Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 829: Around them, the energy in the room buzzed. People were clearly thrilled. But Mariana was different - her expression turned grim. She had been certain that her artwork would stand out, but yet again, she found herself in Maia's shadow. Whatever pride she had left crumbled into pieces. At that point, she couldn't even bring herself to glance at Maia's painting. All she wanted was to vanish into thin air. A short distance away, Raegan's brows knit together.

She couldn't help but wonder - was it truly possible that Maia had painted a woman she'd never laid eyes on, and yet somehow created a face that looked strikingly real? She shot a sideways glance at Kiley - and to her surprise, caught a flicker of fear flashing across Kiley's usually unshakable expression. But it didn't last long. Kiley's features quickly returned to their usual cool composure. Then, without warning, she stepped forward. Her voice rang out, sharp as ice. "Ladies and gentlemen, it appears you've come to a final decision." As soon as she spoke, the room went completely still.

The judges looked at one another, exchanging uncertain glances. A palpable tension coiled through the air among the judges, the silence in the exhibition hall as taut as a drawn bowstring. Some judges fidgeted, their lips parted as if words teetered on the edge of escape, only to falter under the weight of restraint. Others cast furtive glances, their furrowed brows betraying unease as their eyes darted from one colleague to another. They all recognized the superior artistry before them, yet the shadow of Kiley's influence - the exhibition's most formidable patron - loomed large.

None dared risk her wrath by openly challenging her will. In that charged moment, every gaze converged on Grover, a silent plea shimmering in their eyes. Grover, sensing the collective expectation, swiped at the beads of perspiration glistening on his brow. Ʞν・ With a reluctant step forward, he cleared his throat. "Well, Ms. Cooper, the sentiment is clear. The audience and judges have spoken. The victor of this artistic duel is-" His voice wavered, but before he could conclude, a razor-sharp voice sliced through the air.

"Have you all forgotten the essence of this painting challenge?" Kiley interjected, her lips curling into a mocking smirk that dripped with disdain. Her words struck like a thunderclap, leaving the judges exchanging bewildered glances. Grover's frown deepened, though he held his tongue. From the crowd, a voice pierced the silence. "Portrait realism!" Mariana, who moments before had seemed lost in a fog of despair, snapped to life, her eyes igniting with a fervent spark. "Exactly," she declared, her voice swelling with renewed vigor.

"This competition hinges on portrait realism, capturing the unerring likeness of a subject." Her momentum surged, each word a polished arrow aimed at her rival. "Since the theme is realism, victory should rest on who most faithfully recreated their subject's true appearance." Her gaze, unrelenting, pinned Maia in its crosshairs. Earlier, she had been too flustered to realize that only she, Kiley, and Chris had seen Nicola in person. And Chris, because of an accident, had lost his memory of his mother's looks. There wasn't even a single photo of her left in the family.

This absence emboldened Mariana to challenge the authenticity of Maia's work, tilting the scales in her favor. . . .