Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 827: His cold fingers reached for hers, clasping them tightly. "Your painting... it brought her back. My mother's face, her voice - memories I thought were gone forever." His eyes softened, holding Maia's. "Thank you, Maia. Truly." Joy sparked in Maia's expression, her heart swelling. She had not anticipated that her portrait could unlock such a gift. "This is incredible," she said, her voice bright. "We should get you to a doctor later, just to be safe. You might be on the mend." Chris' brow furrowed, curiosity overriding his pain.

"But how did you do it?" He leaned closer, his voice low. "You never met her. How could you paint her so perfectly?" The question hung in the air, and the crowd leaned in, their curiosity palpable. How had Maia captured a woman she had never known? Once again, silence settled over the room. "It's actually quite simple..." Maia spoke in a relaxed tone, her lips curling slightly into a knowing smile. With the crowd watching intently, she turned toward Chris again, strolled over with measured steps, and gave his face a thorough once-over, taking in the sharp angles of his features.

"The answer... is written all over your face." As she said this, she lifted her hand and motioned toward him. "In many families, daughters often inherit their looks from their fathers, while sons usually favor their mothers. It's not a strict rule, of course, but it holds true more often than not. So..." She spun around, pointed to her painting, and continued, "I took the structure of your face as my guide. Then, by flipping the traits and imagining them with feminine touches, I built a picture of what your mother might have looked like.

Looking at the final piece, I'm confident it reflects your mother's appearance." Maia's voice was steady and full of assurance. As her last word lingered, the space grew still, as if the air itself paused. Then, all at once, gasps filled the room, followed by an explosion of cheers and astonishment from the audience and the judges. ? ⲁν． "What is Maia saying? She can paint a mother's face just by studying her son? That sounds like some kind of magic!" "In criminal investigations, professionals can put together a suspect's face by reading tiny clues.

If Maia pulled this off, then her grasp of facial anatomy is out of this world!" "So this is what true talent looks like? I'm honestly blown away!" "Maia's on another level! Most forensic sketches only capture a rough idea, but hers looks incredibly real - like the woman was sitting right there in front of her. It's more like a photo than a painting!" "Mariana's piece, Contemplation, is solid, but it just doesn't hold a candle to Maia's portrait when you make a comparison." Right then, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement, and the crowd's opinion turned on a dime.

While the crowd burst into excited chatter, Mariana - standing opposite Maia - felt her expression collapse. Her pride took a hit. She simply couldn't come to terms with the fact that Maia's work had received such overwhelming applause from both the viewers and the judges. She stared once more at Maia's painting. It had a soft, dreamlike glow, almost hidden behind a misty layer. With the way the light and shadows danced over it, the image looked as though something real had been laid gently on top of the canvas. . . .