?<strong>Chapter 424:</strong>


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    Beneath her traditional dress, bruises from yesterday’s beating ached, a secret she hid well. The dress was supposed to impress Keanu, but now it felt more like armor — a mask to hide her shame.


    She despised Allison. She hated her with all her body and soul. No matter what she did, Allison always seemed one step ahead, leaving her trapped in her shadow.


    “I’m curious, Allison — do you really think your skills surpass Mr. Sugden’s? Are you so confident you can find his mistakes?”


    The challenge was as sharp as broken ss, designed to cut deep.


    Louis, not one to be left out, chimed in with a mocking grin. “Exactly. We can restore sixty percent of the painting. So, Ms. rke, what can you do? Seventy? Maybe eighty?”


    Each word was a jab meant to belittle her, but Allison didn’t flinch. Not even an inch. Her eyes remained steady, calm, and focused. “At least ny-five percent.”


    Bang!


    Louis’s fist came down hard on the table, rattling the objects on top.


    Hisugh was sharp, disbelieving, as if the absurdity of her im had shattered something inside him. “What did you just say? Ny-five?! Now that’s rich! You must be delusional to boast like that. Know your limits, girl.”


    Louis couldn’t shake the growing certainty that the woman standing before him was lying through her teeth.


    “I once watched Mr. FrameMaker restore a painting just like this one,” Louis dered, the memory vivid in his mind. “He worked tirelessly for seven days and nights. Even then, he only managed to restore about ny percent of it.”


    His words wereced with a clear implication — how could Allison, this seemingly ordinary woman, possibly outdo one of the most renowned restorers in the world? But Allison didn’t flinch. Instead, she met his stare with a cool, unwavering gaze. “So?” she asked, her tone sharp as a scalpel. “Can’t you do it?”


    Her questionnded like a p, and Louis felt his face burn with embarrassment. Of course, he couldn’t do it.


    If he had the kind of talent FrameMaker did, he wouldn’t be standing here, stuck in his current position.


    But admitting that? Out loud? No chance.


    “Well, FrameMaker is one of the best,” he hedged, his voice losing some of its earlier bravado. “I’m no FrameMaker, that’s for sure.”


    Allison’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. She could see right through him. The man had more pride than skill.


    “Your technique is sloppy,” she said, matter-of-factly. “You’re barely scraping by with what little you know. Keep at it, and you’ll ruin this painting beyond repair.”


    Her words hit like cold truth, and Keanu, who had been silently watching, felt a knot tighten in his chest.


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