Chapter 409 I Am Cordelia Grey
Reluctantly, Phillipe conceded, "I'll stay at home and await your return." His voice was void of any insistence, his trust in the young woman's plans absolute."Don't even think about trailing me or secretly assigning someone to keep an eye on me," Abella warned, her tone suggesting she was reading his thoughts. "I'm well aware of your schemes."Phillipe was taken aback by her perceptiveness. She had deciphered his intentions in an instant.With a swift, fluid motion, he drew her into his embrace, peering into her eyes as he questioned, "Is it so perilous that you forbid any followers? Are you concerned about my involvement? Are you worried for my safety?"Before Abella could formulate a response, Phillipe pressed on, "Who is this mysterious party you're dealing with?""I'm not entirely certain yet, but they've insisted on complete discretion," Abella explained, attempting to persuade him. "If they were to discover that I'm not trustworthy, that I've brought along a team of bodyguards and you, my business reputation would be in ruins. You understand that, don't you?"Phillipe silenced her with a gentle kiss, taken aback by the eloquence that flowed from her small mouth.He turned and selected a black bobby pin, fastening it beside her bun. "This contains a state-of-the-art tracking device. If you remain stationary for too long or if something seems amiss with your location, I'll come to find you."Abella was taken by surprise. She hadn't anticipated such a device to exist within their home—an unassuming hairpin that was, in fact, a tracker."It was specifically designed for situations like this," Phillipe clarified, noting her puzzled expression. "Your safety is my primary concern.""I suppose I owe you a heartfelt thank you, then," Abella responded, rising on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and, with a reassuring smile, added, "Don't worry, I'll return soon, safe and sound.""I sure hope so," Phillipe replied, pressing his forehead against hers and stealing one last kiss before she turned to leave, a sense of reluctance tugging at his heart.Abella arrived at the decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of New York, a full ten minutes ahead of schedule.A squadron of bodyguards stood vigil outside, their brows furrowing in suspicion as they watched the young woman emerge from her vehicle."I'm here to deliver the painting," Abella announced confidently to the head of the security team.The dubious security chief scrutinized her, "I'm afraid you'll need to inform Yan Mo that our boss insists on a personal meeting.""I am Yan Mo."The security chief gave her a once-over, his disbelief palpable.Yan Mo, the renowned "Asian Pen" and a master painter revered in the art world, was this young woman? Who would believe such a tale?"You must be joking," the security chief responded, his tone serious."I assure you, I am not," she affirmed, her gaze steady. "I am the real deal."Observing Abella's solemn demeanor, the security chief held his reservations but proceeded to inform his boss of her arrival.He returned shortly after, extending an invitation, "Please, come inside."As Abella moved towards the entrance, painting in hand, she was halted by the security chief's hand. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but could you please remove the hair clip?"Abella thought to herself, So they noticed it that quickly?"The premises are perfectly safe," he reassured her, noticing her hesitation. "Our boss has no intention of causing you harm.""If that's the case, whether I wear this clip or not seems irrelevant, doesn't it?""Our boss prefers his location to remain confidential. I apologize for the inconvenience, and I hope you understand."Sensing no malice, Abella complied, gracefully handing over the hair clip. The chief accepted it respectfully, gesturing her forward with a courteous, "This way, please."
Upon entering the warehouse, Abella was greeted by a bright, expansive space. Its heart was a grand desk, lavishly adorned with pens, inks, papers, and a myriad of other writing materials. The room was devoid of people, yet Abella's keen eyes spotted several cameras. Some were trained on the desk, others followed her every move."Sir, Miss Abella has arrived," the security chief respectfully relayed through his earpiece.As Abella stood before the desk, a chilling aura seemed to radiate from her.The security chief, having received instructions through his earpiece, turned to her with a courteous demeanor. "Miss Abella, could you please unfold the painting?"Abella complied, spreading the artwork across the desk. Captured on camera was a landscape of monumental gravity, masterfully rendered with bold strokes. Rugged mountains piled upon one another, dense forests, meandering streams, and enveloping mists dominated the scene. Scattered thatched huts nestled in the valley, lending a touch of serene reality, while flocks of birds glided through ethereal clouds, infusing the scene with a profound, dreamlike quality.Compliments flooded the security chief's earpiece from his superior. There was no doubt that the painting was authentic."Miss Abella, how can you prove this artwork is your own creation?"In the past, Abella might have responded to such skepticism with a dismissive 'believe it or not.' But now, with thoughts of the man waiting for her at home, she picked up a brush from the desk, dipped it in ink, and began to sketch out a portion of the piece on a fresh sheet of paper.This segment, representing a tenth of the entire piece, was completed in just under five minutes.The security chief was stunned, as was the voice in his earpiece. It was hard to believe that a young woman could accomplish such a feat in such a short time. It was undeniable; she was the artist behind the masterpiece!Noticing their silence, Abella inquired indifferently, "Any other questions? I have another appointment and would prefer not to linger.""Please wait a moment, Miss Abella. Our boss would like to meet you in person."At the chief's words, Abella paused as a middle-aged man quickly descended an iron staircase, flanked by a retinue of bodyguards. He was casually dressed, devoid of flashy jewelry or designer watches, resembling a successful man ready for a round of golf.Abella could tell from his well-groomed appearance and overall demeanor that he was a man of significant status."Ms. Yan, my apologies for not recognizing you sooner," the middle-aged man said, extending his hand.Abella shook it, noting the soft yet firm grip that hinted at a life of comfort and privilege."I've always imagined Ms. Yan to be a gentleman, and here you are, so young and beautiful," the man spoke with great respect. "Both my mother and I are great admirers of your artwork. We are true fans.""Thank you," she responded.The man picked up the masterpiece from the desk and sighed in admiration. "The way you apply the ink, layering light and dark strokes, creates a spacious feeling in your composition. It captures the essence of both the substantial and the ethereal, the waterfall cascading, the stream flowing gently, the misty clouds over the mountains… Ms. Yan, your work is truly exquisite!"Suddenly, he felt that a hundred million dollars was too little for such a masterpiece. It was worth at least five hundred million!"Do you require any changes?" Abella asked suddenly.The man was taken aback, unsure what she meant, and looked to his head of security for clarification.Changes? What did she mean?The security chief explained, "When we communicated with Miss Abella's subordinates earlier, we feared she might not be willing to meet in person, so we mentioned that if the painting wasn't satisfactory, we needed her cooperation to make adjustments."
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