Chapter 9 Mysterious

Two rolls of canvas were spread out on the workbench, with new paint tubes opened, releasing a faint scent of turpentine.

Evelyn rolled up her sleeves and dipped a paintbrush into a tiny amount of titanium white to test the color on the edge of the canvas.

She glanced up and first looked at the child sitting not far away.

Ella had moved a small stool to the window, her sketchbook lay flat, and she was drawing with a charcoal pencil.

Today, she had a new sticker—a small blue umbrella—stuck in the corner of her sketchbook.

She drew for a while, then looked up at Evelyn before continuing with a few more strokes.

"Hey, sweetie, did you finish your speech exercises today?" Evelyn asked, meeting her gaze.

Ella nodded, made an "OK" gesture with her hand, and then opened and closed her mouth, puffed her cheeks, and stretched her face.

She had done these exercises many times and always took them very seriously.

"Great job." Evelyn smiled and ruffled her hair. "I'll make you some corn soup later."

She said this while checking her phone for the time, and a new email notification popped up on the screen.

The sender was the project director from a Gallery, with a straightforward subject: [New Investor Interest].

She opened the email, and a few lines of text appeared: [Wellington Assets hopes to establish a long-term partnership, willing to fund exhibition tours and transportation insurance; no interference with creation or pricing, only participating in charity and derivative development revenue sharing.]

Evelyn tapped her finger lightly on the table and continued reading until she reached the third page, which mentioned:

[Public Education and Children's Rehabilitation Art Project Collaboration.]

—Wellington Assets.

This name wasn't new to her.

As one of the investment platforms under the Collins family, Wellington primarily focused on art, real estate, and charitable projects, and it frequently attended cultural events.

The accounts were clean, always low-key, but the owner was Arthur.

She stared at the name on the screen, feeling a faint sense of unease.

Six years ago, when she left the Collins family, she thought she had completely severed ties with him.

But now, after all this time, the funding chain had found its way back to her.

She pushed the emotion down.

Business is business, and feelings are feelings.

She could accept rational support, but didn't want to tie herself back to the Collins family.

Her phone rang, and Evelyn answered. It was her assistant.

"Hey, Evelyn, the supplementary terms from Wellington Assets have arrived. They agreed not to publicize the charity seats. Also, there are two articles online questioning your sudden rise, and the PR team suggests holding off on any response for now."

"Send the terms to legal. Charity is fine, but we need to lead the children's rehabilitation part. Collect the articles, but don't respond."

"The closing reception is scheduled for next Friday evening."

"Got it."

The assistant hesitated. "Also, the representative from Wellington Assets wants to meet you for dinner to discuss your thoughts."

"Have them schedule it with the team."

"They insist on meeting you personally."

Evelyn's voice was calm. "There are no exceptions for bypassing communication channels. That's my principle."

"Understood."

"Anything else?"

"That's all for now."

She turned off the screen and put her phone down on the table, then went to wash her hands.

In the mirror, her brow furrowed slightly for a moment.

When she turned around, she saw Ella and spoke softly, "Sweetie, help Mommy pour the corn into the pot."

Ella ran over, stood on tiptoe, and stirred the soup carefully.

"Once it starts boiling, turn it down to a simmer."

Evelyn placed her hand over Ella's, guiding her to stir along the edge of the pot.

Ella nodded, pressing her tongue against her teeth in a gesture of concentration.

The kitchen filled with the light scent of corn, and the steam fogged up the window.

Just then, the phone on the table vibrated, its screen lighting up with an unfamiliar number.

Evelyn frowned and instinctively reached to silence it.

But a few seconds later, the screen lit up again with the same persistent number.

Ella looked up, blinking.

Sensing Evelyn's change in mood, she didn't say anything, just stirred the pot more vigorously.

Evelyn sighed, feeling the pressure of this relentless pursuit.

She knew that someone who could call repeatedly like this must know exactly who she was.

But she didn't want to appear flustered in front of Ella, so she turned the heat down and answered the call, her voice cold. "Hello?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a deep voice.

"Evelyn, it's me."

Evelyn's fingers tightened, but her tone remained unchanged. "Sorry, you have the wrong person."

There was a brief pause, as if the caller couldn't believe her response.

"Stop pretending. Even with a different name, I can recognize you."

"Mr. Collins." She deliberately used the most distant address, cutting him off, "I'm Sarah, not the Evelyn you're talking about. I don't know how you got my private number, but I hope this is the last time. Please contact me through my team in the future."

"Do you think changing your name can make you disappear from under my nose?" Arthur's voice was cold, each word hitting hard, "When you saved John in the gallery, I knew it was you right away."

Evelyn's lips pressed into a thin line, a moment of bitterness rising in her chest, but she forced it down.

Her voice was calm, even slightly mocking. "It's not unusual for an artist to know a bit of first aid. Are you being too sensitive?"

A cold laugh came from the other end.

That laugh had no warmth, reminding her of his usual firmness and dominance.

Six years ago, this voice had once swayed her emotions, making her believe she had found lifelong support.

But now, it only felt oppressive and irritating.

"Sensitive?" Arthur repeated, with a tone of certainty, "No matter how you deny it, you are Evelyn."

"People make mistakes all the time," she replied indifferently, "Mr. Collins, you might have confused me with someone else. If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up now."

"Don't you dare," his voice deepened, but before he could finish, Evelyn decisively hung up.

The screen went dark, leaving only the sound of the soup bubbling in the kitchen.

Ella looked up at her, her small hand gripping the spoon tightly, worried that Evelyn might be upset.

Evelyn took a deep breath, bent down to rub her hair, and spoke softly, "It's okay, sweetie, keep stirring. The soup will be ready soon."

Ella nodded, obediently lowering her head.

But the phone didn't give her a moment to breathe.

A few seconds later, the screen lit up again with the same number.

After several persistent calls, Evelyn finally felt annoyed and picked up the phone, answering it for the second time.

She didn't speak, just waited coldly.

Arthur's voice came through again, forcing her to listen. "Since you don't want to have dinner, I'll change the plan. I'll be at the closing reception tomorrow."

He didn't give her a chance to respond, hanging up right after.

Evelyn stared at the screen, unmoving for a long time.

What surged in her chest wasn't surprise, but a suffocating familiarity.

Still the same.

Six years ago, he treated her just like this.

Once he made up his mind, he wouldn't let her argue; once he decided, he wouldn't give her a choice.

Back then, she had naively thought that Arthur's decisiveness and reliability were enviable traits in a man.

But it took her six years to understand that it was just his domineering nature.

She slowly closed her eyes, placing the phone face down on the table.

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze had regained its calm.

The soup in the pot bubbled, releasing a fragrant aroma.

Ella stirred carefully, looking up at her with bright eyes.

In that moment, Evelyn's heart softened.

She took the spoon, her voice gentle. "Alright, it's almost ready, sweetie."