The elder in front of her was in his sixties. It wasn’t that she didn’t know who he was—an internationally prominent artist and also a member of the Artists’ International Association.
Michael.
He was well-known for his grouchiness, fondness for drawing, and taking on disciples. His recruitment was either for competency or his gain. And the girl’s gift, skills, and expression—those were what he desired. Her unique talent would add so much value to his collection.
Ning Xue saw the rough edge of dominance in his eyes. She was no stranger to that kind of gaze—it was the same look as a teacher subjugating their student. He didn’t speak.
The silence lingering in the air was depressing. Ning Xue started to get uneasy—why was getting rid of the old codger so tough?
Under the stalemate, her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sis. Are you in Central Park right now?”
Ning Xue knitted her brow together. She hadn’t contacted Jack lately, so there was no way he could’ve known she was there that day. What was going on?
“Someone’s found your identity as an artist. They’re also in Central Park.”
“Huh?” Her eyes darkened. Her workpieces were different from usual ones—no one could’ve connected the dots. She had only shown her work to Michael and the young man from a while ago, so which one of them was it, then?
How did he do it? Or was the old man playing tricks from her back all this while? The list of possibilities pissed her off. Anger flashed across her eyes. “Who was it?” she asked in a cold voice.
“Beats me. But they’re on it. I think we’ll know who’s behind it soon. Be careful, sis.”
“Okay.” Ning Xue hung up. She took a handkerchief and wiped the paint on her fingers while she was distracted thinking about her exposed identity. Something was fishy. She had a bad premonition.
Agitated, she couldn’t comprehend the source of her feelings.
“Never mind about the offer,” the old man spoke out of nowhere, looking up and staring at her. “But I’d like you to do me a favor. Could you promise me something?”
Ning Xue turned to face him. “What is it?”
A strange smile appeared on his lips. “I want you to come along to Italy with me and paint me a drawing as a gift for someone.”
“Huh. What painting? And why should I agree to go with you?”
“I’ll tell you why when you agree. We’re talking money like this—” Michael stretched all his five fingers.
“No.”
“You’re saying no to 50 million? You’d better think about it carefully.” His creepy grin remained on his face.
“I told you, no.”
Michael snorted. “You shouldn’t have rejected me. You’ll regret it.”
“I won’t. I never would. I have my principles.”
“And what are them?”
“I don’t need anyone interfering in my decisions.”
Following the end of her sentence was glass shattering—Michael had smashed the mug he’d been holding. “Good, very well. If this conclusion is what you’ve come up with,” he narrowed his eyes into a fine line, his glare malicious, “I won’t let you off this easily.”
Ning Xue never flinched. “My advice for you is not to mess with the wrong person, or you’d suffer the consequences.”
“Heh. Consequences? I’m not afraid of anything, and frankly speaking, I don’t believe anyone would ever dare to stand up against me,” Michael spoke with arrogance. Being a big shot in the fine arts industry, and no matter where he was, he’d always have a crowd of his loyal followers.
No one on Earth could hurt him, for he was the world-famous Michael! Be it leaders of a country, the US government, the mafia, the Interpol, or assassins—no one would ever lay a finger on him.. Money was the answer to everything!