Chapter 51
Audrey’s POV:
In the car, Noah gripped my hand tightly, shaking his head stubbornly.
“No, I don’t want Audrey to go home. His voice carried unwavering determination.
1 sighed softly, watching the scenery blur past the window.
‘Noah, I’ll come back to spend time with you tomorrow, okay?” I tried to reason with him, but his small hand only gripped mine tighter.
*Please, just tonight. He looked up at me, those dark grape–like eyes shimmering with pleading.
I exchanged a helpless glance with Caspar. He shrugged, something unreadable flickering in his expression.
Eventually, I gave in.
But after Noah fell asleep, my phone buzzed.
It was an urgent message from the Bailey family butler: “Miss Audrey, please return home immediately. Mrs. Margaret has lost something and she’s having a complete meltdown.”
I carefully got up, tiptoeing out of the room to avoid waking the sleeping Noah.
As soon as I closed the door, I ran into Caspar standing in the hallway.
‘I have to go back,” I explained. “There’s an emergency at home.”
Caspar nodded in understanding. “I’ll drive you.”
‘No need,” I declined politely, my gaze unconsciously drifting toward Noah’s door. “If Noah wakes up and doesn’t see anyone familiar, he’ll be scared. You should stay with him–he needs someone tonight.”
Caspar fell silent for a moment, seemingly weighing my words.
Finally, he nodded and turned to instruct Edward, who happened to be passing by: “Take Ms. Lane home.”
“I’m so sorry to trouble you this late, Edward,” I gave the butler an apologetic smile. “Thank you.”
Edward nodded slightly, maintaining his professional composure. “It’s my pleasure, Ms. Lane. The car is ready.”
When I returned to the Bailey family’s Upper East Side apartment, tension hung thick in the air.
Margaret’s voice carried from the living room,
where she was heatedly questioning George and Eleanor.
I’ll ask you one more time–did you take that painting?” Margaret’s voice trembled with rage.
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Chapter 51
“Mother, why on earth would we take your painting? George replied impatiently. “That modern art garbage is worthless to tis,
The moment I walked into the living room, all three stopped arguing.
Margaret’s eyes lit up as if she’d seen her savior.
“Audrey, you’re finally back.” She said wearily. “The painting you gave me is missing.”
Audrey gave it to you?” Eleanor’s tense expression relaxed, and she waved dismissively. “Here I thought it was something valuable. It’s just some cheap painting from Audrey. If it’s lost, so what? What’s all the fuss about?”
“Shut your mouth!‘ Margaret snapped sharply. “When my collector friend visited last week, he recognized it immediately as an authentic Liora! He even offered to buy it for a hefty sum, which I refused.”
Margaret turned to me, her eyes filled with distress. “Such an expensive gift–Audrey must have saved up for ages, pinching pennies to afford it. I have to
find it, no matter what.”
I opened my mouth, wanting to explain that the painting’s origin wasn’t as difficult as she imagined, but given the current situation, I simply nodded
quietly.
“Who entered my room today?” Margaret turned to the servants and butler standing nearby, her voice stern.
They all shook their heads, claiming they hadn’t entered.
In the silence, a young maid gathered her courage and whispered, “Ma’am, when I was cleaning the hallway this morning, I think I saw Miss Sienna coming out from the direction of your room…”
Her voice grew smaller and smaller, barely audible by the end, but it was enough to drop a bombshell in the room.
All eyes turned to Sienna, who was unusually silent in the corner.
Only then did I notice that somehow, she had also returned home and was sitting at the far end of the sofa.
“Sienna, did you take my painting?” Margaret asked point–blank, her sharp gaze fixed on her.
Before Sienna could speak, Eleanor jumped up like a mother lion protecting her cub.
“Mother!” She raised her voice. “How can you accuse Sienna like that? Based on some servant’s word? How could Sienna possibly do such a thing!”
*Exactly, George immediately stepped forward to defend his daughter. ‘It was probably one of the servants who took it. Now they’re trying to frame our
Sienna!”
The servants in the room all trembled, shaking their heads in denial, insisting they absolutely hadn’t taken the lady’s painting.
Watching this circus unfold, I decided to break the deadlock.
“Since no one’s admitting to it,” I said calmly, “maybe we should call the police. Art theft is a serious crime–the authorities have professional methods to investigate.”
noticed Sienna’s face instantly turn pale, her fingers unconsciously twisting together.
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Chapter 51
I had my answer.
But Margaret sighed and waved her hand: ‘Forget it. We don’t air our dirty laundry in public. Let’s not make this a police matter.
Her gaze lingered on Sienna’s face for a moment, her expression dejected. “Audrey, help me back to my room to rest.”
I nodded, walking over to Margaret and taking her arm.
Back in her room, Margaret sat on the edge of her bed, looking at me wearily: “I’m sorry, Audrey.”
She sighed and continued, “Bailey Corporation’s stock price is already hanging by a thread,” she explained quietly. “I can’t let another family scandal become the media’s next feeding frenzy. Even though I know who took that painting…*
“The Bailey family has reached this point because I failed to raise George properly.” Her voice was full of self–reproach. “I hope you won’t hold it against
me.”
I stood nearby, speaking softly. “The Bailey family’s affairs are
“Please get some rest. I’ll head out now.”
With that, I quietly closed the door and left.
to
handle, Grandmother.”
Back in my room, I collapsed onto my bed exhaustedly and pulled out my phone to check
my messages.
The screen showed a social media notification: Dorothy Thornton had sent me a
request.
I paused for a moment, then clicked accept. Almost instantly, a message popped up.
“Awesome! Thanks for accepting my request, Audrey.” Dorothy’s message read, her tone bubbling with excitement. “I have some art–related stuff I’d love to pick your brain about. Are you free tomorrow?”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
