CHAPTER 145: CHAPTER 145: HIS SECRET

After that night, Blake Sinclair returned to Sinclair Manor to explain the matter about the child.

Holly Crowe continued to busy herself preparing her competition piece until she received an email from Miles Quill, saying that Shannon Yarrow publicly tagged her on Weibo, inviting her to a painting exhibition.

She opened the Weibo post, seeing Shannon Yarrow’s earnest words inviting her to attend her "Five Seasons" exhibition, finding it laughable.

How many days since that car accident?

Shannon Yarrow could play the part of sisterly love online, a thickness of skin that was truly impressive.

She had announced her intent to hold an exhibition long ago during a Success live watch.

Holly just couldn’t understand why Shannon had to publicly invite her on Weibo.

What unnerved her even more was the comment section under that post, rife with oddities:

[We believe in you, Holly.]

[We’ll always be your support, take care of yourself.]

[Do you have to go? That woman seems up to no good...]

This headless and tailless concern and support made her feel like she was being kept in the dark about something.

Shannon had put the invitation out there, with such grand gestures that even Miles Quill had stepped in, leaving Holly no grounds to refuse sensibly or emotionally.

Finally, she shared the Weibo post, officially responding with two words, "Looking forward."

Friday morning.

The entire Beldon was enveloped in a curtain of rain.

The weather forecast had long announced the first typhoon of the year had formed over The Vast Ocean, expected to gradually affect southeastern coastal cities in the next three days, declaring Beldon officially in typhoon season.

Blake Sinclair watched Holly Crowe adjust her hat in front of the mirror in the living room.

Today, she wore a pearl-white fitted suit to complement the exhibition, paired with a black camellia waist belt and a round-top formal hat, exuding elegance.

Blake Sinclair stepped forward to help adjust her hat.

Ever since she agreed to attend Shannon’s exhibition, a sense of unease lingered.

"Call me as soon as the exhibition ends, I’ll come and get you." he instructed in a deep voice.

"Didn’t you say you have an important international video conference this afternoon?"

"Canceled."

"So suddenly?"

"Yes," he replied vaguely, not wanting to elaborate.

Holly studied his tense profile, teasing deliberately, "Are you worried about me? Or is there really an unspeakable story between you and Shannon Yarrow that you’re afraid I’ll find out?"

She blinked mischievously.

"No," Blake Sinclair did not hesitate at all.

This exhibition was entirely unknown to him; ever since that necktie pattern incident hit the hot search, he withdrew all resources previously granted to Shannon Yarrow.

Upon learning Holly would attend the exhibition, he immediately sent someone to investigate the organizer and all processes, and the feedback was that everything seemed normal.

Everything seemed to be just him overthinking.

Yet the more normal it seemed, the more it felt like the calm before the storm.

Shannon Yarrow’s exhibition venue was at the Beldon Art Planning Center.

When Holly arrived, many journalists had already gathered inside.

The morning rain continued to pour until noon, showing no signs of abating.

However, in stark contrast to the dreary weather outside, the exhibition hall was brightly lit.

Each beam of light inside was meticulously designed and adjusted, shining on the oil paintings, looking exceedingly high-end.

Before formally exhibiting, Shannon would make a speech, mainly introducing her creative journey.

Escorted by an etiquette lady, Holly walked into the inner area and paused before the first-row seats.

"Hello, is there a mistake? Why is my seat in the first row?" Holly politely queried.

The etiquette lady wore a professional smile, carefully verifying the invitation and name tag on the chair back, stating affirmatively: "Ms. Crowe, your seat is indeed in the first row, no mistake."

Holly’s doubts deepened, but she had no choice but to temporarily suppress them and sit in the first row under the scrutiny of the crowd.

Gradually, the seats filled, the sound of camera shutters and chatter particularly noisy, until the lights dimmed, and Shannon entered wearing a soft purple gown.

Her smile was poised, particularly deepening as her gaze swept over Holly in the front row, though not reaching her eyes.

Taking the microphone, she bowed to the audience, her voice gentle: "Thank you all very much for attending my first personal exhibition ’Five Seasons’ on such a rainy day.... A work ten years in the making, everything should have a conclusion, some obsessions eventually need to be let go or attained."

Holly noticed that as Shannon spoke, she kept glancing at her, especially when using those meaningful words, seemingly emphasizing something deliberately.

She only hoped that this segment would end quickly, so she could leave promptly after viewing the exhibition.

Fortunately, once the exhibition formally started, Shannon was either accepting interviews from journalists or chatting with art luminaries, no longer appearing before her.

Holly was happy to bask in tranquility.

The exhibition divided into seasonal areas, Holly strolled along the route slowly, pondering why it was named "Five Seasons" when there were only four; what was the added "season"?

Turning a corner on the second floor, she saw on the left an independent gallery, no label at the door, nor any lights on, pitch black, seeming not yet open to the public.

Disinterested, Holly was about to turn away when the crisp sound of high heels rang behind her, notably sharp in the corridor.

She turned, seeing Shannon standing quietly in the middle of the corridor, her gaze deep.

Shannon walked forward leisurely in her high heels, brushing past her, not stopping.

Reaching the unlit gallery door, she switched on the inside lights.

The dim light only illuminated the entrance, deeper inside obscured by a corner.

"Curious, you can come inside to see." Shannon said.

"Uninterested." Holly replied coldly, turning to leave.

"Holly, are you afraid to?"

Shannon’s sarcastic voice echoed from behind, "Or, are you afraid I might do something to you? Could it be last time left you with psychological trauma?"

She spoke while stepping to Holly’s side, her tone suddenly turning both aggrieved and innocent.

"I explained everything at the police station last time; it was truly just an accident, I was completely unaware, why won’t you believe me?" She leaned closer as she spoke, her overwhelming rose-scented perfume invading Holly’s senses.

Holly stepped back two steps, establishing a safe distance.

Only upon retreating did she notice that the entire second-floor exhibition hall was emptied, leaving just the two of them?

"Don’t bother looking."

Shannon toyed with her nails, her tone lazy: "As per the schedule, everyone is in the first floor’s viewing area now, watching a short film of my creative journey."

Holly frowned, there was no viewing segment on her invitation.

Clearly, Shannon had meticulously orchestrated this.

Yet Shannon remained unflatlined by her spotting her scheme, stepping aside to reveal the path to the gallery, "Come all this way, won’t you really dare enter?"

Holly saw through her goading, unprovoked, chuckling coldly, "Not don’t dare, but uninterested."

She glanced over the second-floor railing, "Because your exhibition is, quite frankly, hideous!"

This was not something Holly said offhand.

While touring earlier, she had discerned Shannon’s paintings were empty beneath the exterior.

Though superficially impressive, it relied entirely on flamboyant text to sustain itself, when it came to color utilization and painting technique, if not for carrying the young artist title, they might only end up selling on Marinus online.

"You..."

Shannon’s face turned ashen.

She had anticipated Holly might be angry, and curious, but never expected her to dismiss her art so bluntly and disdainfully!

As if slapped publicly, the original rhetoric was forcibly swallowed, converting to a breath, held in the chest about to erupt!

"What’s the matter? Didn’t Shannon Yarrow just claim on stage, she hoped everyone would speak freely, offering valuable opinions?"

She advanced a step, teasing with a cold smile "My opinion is: hideous. Goodbye, no need to see off."

After speaking, she turned to leave, her steps decisive and brisk, without any hesitation.

"What if I said the things inside here, are connected to Blake Sinclair?"

Holly’s feet stopped in place.

"What if I said, there’s a secret here he doesn’t want you to know?"

Holly didn’t turn around, nor did she continue forward.

"Don’t you want to know what the swallow pattern on Blake Sinclair’s tie really signifies?"