When There Is Nothing Left But Love

As expected, the art gallery was packed with guests. We seemed to be a little out of place, being the only ones who showed up with the whole family.

Nathaniel was busy entertaining his other guests, so we decided to look around the gallery ourselves.

The gallery adopted the Epea architectural style from the last century. Its lobby with vaulted ceiling introduced a historic charm to the place. Under such an atmosphere, the oil paintings on the wall seemed to be veiled by a sense of mystery.

Standing in the middle of the lobby, John fixed his eyes on the Mona Lisa’s smile and gauged its authenticity. “Do you guys think it’s authentic or fake?”

“I suppose it’s authentic,” I blurted out. “Those who show up today are all prominent figures. Besides, Nathaniel is rich. I don’t think he would display a reproduction in his gallery.”

“What do you think?” John asked Ashton.

“Well, it can be authentic, and it can be fake. Actually, the oil paintings themselves have no value. They only gain popularity and rise in value because they are much sought after. To some extent, it is an excellent marketing tactic by attaching the artists’ feelings and life experiences to the artworks.”

about business. I’m asking you if the painting is authentic.” John grew serious as he put his hands

a cold smile. He stooped down to pick Audrey up and then replied nonchalantly, “Well, that

with Audrey to look at the other

us shared a look and unanimously shrugged in

it seemed. It was a high-risk investment, just like

set up such a grand art gallery, he must be one of the few who got to

foot in the gallery faded away. After all, we were not

the villa

was keeping me company. Later, he went outside to answer a call from M Country to

to rest, Nathaniel’s voice rang out,

his voice. Soon, I realized he was talking about the picture

breaking waves, a distant view from the seaside. At first glance, one couldn’t really tell if they were ebb or flood tide