Chapter 7

Old Mr. Johnson had a well-known passion for fine art and collectibles, so naturally, every guest arrived bearing gifts that matched his refined taste—each more lavish than the last. Marsha played along, presenting a rare vintage fountain pen from a limited edition collection. The moment he unboxed it, Mr. Johnson's eyes lit up with delight. "Liliana, didn't you bring something for Grandfather?" Marsha asked, her smile bright and innocent. But the way she phrased it—"didn't you"—wasn't a question. It was bait, meant to stir the room. Whispers started almost immediately. Liliana glanced at her coolly. "It's Grandfather's birthday. Of course I brought a gift." Marsha knew that. She'd seen it. But that didn't stop her from setting the stage for public embarrassment. It was obvious she was trying to humiliate her. In her past life, Liliana had been too naive—mistaking malice for kindness. "And what did our dear Liliana bring?" Marsha asked sweetly, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her: part smug, part cruel. She had deliberately nudged Liliana toward purchasing a "rare" painting—one she knew was a forgery. Today would be the perfect time to expose it. She could already imagine the fallout. Everyone thought of Liliana as the poor, sweet girl who came from the countryside. But once she embarrassed the Johnsons in front of their elite guests, would they still side with her? Marsha was ready to watch her crash and burn. But one glance at Marsha's expression, and Liliana saw right through her. She offered a faint smile. "Didn't you already know, Sis?" Then she calmly pulled out a professionally framed painting and handed it to Mr. Johnson. "I searched forever trying to find the right piece, but thanks to my sister's suggestion, I finally found this. I hope you'll like it, Grandpa." Wait—did she know it was a fake? Was she dragging Marsha into this on purpose? Marsha quickly jumped in. "I merely made a few casual suggestions. Liliana made the final call on her own." Mr. Johnson wasn't paying attention to the tension between the sisters. He simply beamed at Liliana. "If it's from you, sweetheart, I'll cherish it no matter what." As it turned out, the painting was an original by a well-known artist. Mr. Johnson examined it carefully, turning it over and admiring the brushwork with obvious affection. "This is very thoughtful, Liliana. I love it." Then, a sharp voice cut through the room. "That painting looks like a fake." Heads turned. "Wait, seriously? She gave her grandfather a fake on his birthday?" "Typical. What did you expect from that backwoods girl? No taste, no class." "How embarrassing..." The buzz in the room grew louder with every second. Liliana turned toward the voice. Predictably, it was Chloe Fletcher—Marsha's close friend. She feigned surprise. "You know art, Miss Fletcher? That's interesting. I paid a fortune for this at an auction. Are you sure it's a fake?" Mr. Johnson's expression darkened. "Miss Fletcher, you do realize that making false accusations can have serious consequences, yes?" He'd always felt sorry for Liliana, having grown up outside the family. Now that she was finally home, he was especially protective. Seeing someone attack her like this? Not a good look. Chloe didn't flinch. "I happen to know the current owner of the original piece. He's a dear friend, and he would never part with it. What you have here, I'm afraid, is a copy—at best." From her angle, she cast a quick glance at Marsha, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. They both knew the painting was fake. After all, Marsha had steered Liliana toward it in the first place. This was their moment. The one where the "country girl" would finally be exposed and humiliated. But Liliana didn't flinch either. "Spreading false rumors is a serious matter, Miss Fletcher," she said calmly. "This painting was purchased with my sister right beside me. She even studied art history and authentication. Are you questioning her expertise now?" Chloe's smugness faltered. She shot Marsha a glance, waiting for a signal. Marsha's smile had stiffened. If the painting turned out to be fake, she'd go down with it—after all, she was the one who recommended it. "You must be mistaken, Liliana. I've been swamped with work lately. I haven't gone art shopping with you." Her tone turned firm, feigning confusion. "You're probably thinking of someone else." Liliana tilted her head as if deep in thought. "Maybe I did mix it up. I've been so busy, things blur together sometimes…" Someone in the crowd spoke up, "Didn't Ms. Marsha study fine art authentication? Why not have her take a look?" Another chimed in, "Yes! We've got an expert right here." Marsha's expression flickered, but she quickly recovered, lips curling into a proud smile. She tossed Liliana a smug glance, chin slightly lifted. Let's see how long the countryside princess can hold out. "The painting, please," she said coolly, stepping past Liliana toward Mr. Johnson. He didn't hesitate—he'd known Marsha since birth and trusted her judgment. Marsha turned the painting over with practiced care, then looked up with a troubled expression. "It's not authentic," she announced. Then, in a soft, almost sympathetic tone, she added, "I'm sure Liliana just wanted to make Grandpa happy. Maybe she couldn't get the real thing and settled for this instead." Mr. Johnson frowned, eyes narrowing in thought. Around the room, the guests were already whispering again—this time, louder. "If you can't get something genuine, at least give something sincere. But a fake? That's just low." "She's pretty, sure—but clearly not raised with class. I guess the rumors were true." "Can't believe they're sisters. Look at Marsha—still covering for her, even after this. What a difference." The criticism rolled in like waves. Wilson's brow furrowed. Damn it. I didn't prep a gift. What can I do to shut them all up? But Liliana looked completely unbothered. She reached over and gave his hand a reassuring pat, as if to say, Don't worry. I've got this. She turned back to Marsha with a calm expression. "Seems like your eye for art might be a little rusty, Sis." Marsha had been bragging about her art expertise for years, all to win Grandpa's favor. But in truth, she barely knew the basics. Her confidence came from one thing only: she'd watched Liliana purchase the fake herself—under her guidance. "What's that supposed to mean?" Marsha's smile vanished. Liliana offered a polite smile. Two could play this game. "Come on, Marsha. Even experts make mistakes. Maybe you're just tired today—had a moment of blurred vision." Then she turned her head toward the back of the room, her voice clear and refined: "Mr. Adams, would you mind taking a quick look and telling us what you think?"