?<strong>Chapter 425:</strong>


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    Louis bristled. “I can’t do it, huh? And you can, I suppose?” His sneer was a flimsy cover for the rising frustration as he pushed back his chair, standing with a mocking flourish. He swept a hand toward the table, like a performer making way for the next act.


    “Fine. Go ahead. Show us how it’s done, then. Let’s see if you’re any better than FrameMaker.”


    For a moment, Allison remained motionless, staring them down, as though considering her next move.


    Louis, mistaking her stillness for hesitation, pressed on, his voice dripping with disdain. “What’s wrong? Afraid you might fail?”


    “What if I can?”


    Louisughed, the sound harsh and humorless. “If you can, I’ll drop to my knees and call you master.”


    Tension buzzed in the room. Someone from the team started to speak up, perhaps to calm the rising conflict, but Louis silenced them with a re. Things had reached a boiling point. Allison had no choice but to respond.


    “That won’t be necessary. You’re not qualified to be my apprentice.”


    Without another word, she moved forward, sliding into Louis’ spot with a grace that made it look effortless. “But I’ll be waiting for you to kneel.”


    Keanu, standing nearby, spoke softly. “Are you sure about this, my girl?”


    His voice was low, filled with the kind of trust that only came from knowing someone deeply. If she said she could do it, she definitely could.


    Allison nced up at him, offering a brief but reassuring smile. “Yes.”


    With that, she took Louis’ ce in front of the painting and began the delicate work.


    “Then I believe in you,” Keanu replied, stepping aside to give her room.


    Mny and Colton exchanged uncertain nces but said nothing, clearly unwilling to interfere while Keanu stood by her.


    Louis, on the other hand, crossed his arms, a sneer stered across his face.


    “I can’t wait to see how you screw this up. You…” But his sarcasm died mid-sentence.


    Allison had already begun. She worked with tweezers, lifting the fragile, peeling sections of the painting with a skill that made even the most seasoned restorers pause. Louis felt a jolt of something unfamiliar in his chest — a sudden, inexplicable dread.


    Her next words were even more shocking.


    “The discoloration has seeped into the texture. We’ll need to remove ityer byyer. After that, a strong adhesive will tten the lifted sections.”


    As she spoke, she worked steadily, her brush strokes deliberate and measured.


    Several of Louis’ team members, who had been watching from the sidelines, nodded unconsciously, as if they were witnessing a masterss.


    “She’s right,” one of them murmured. “That part does need to be handled that way…”


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