Filed To Story: Returning to Her Not-So-Poor Family
“Sir, Ms. Mirabelle has arrived,” the head of the security team said, speaking into his earpiece.
Mirabella stood before the desk with an air of aloofness about her.
Upon receiving instructions from the earpiece, the head of security politely requested, “Ms. Mirabelle, could you please unroll this scroll?”
Mirabella spread the artwork across the table. On the camera feed, it was a majestic and vibrant traditional oriental ink painting.
The mountains in the painting were steep, trees lush, streams winding, and clouds wafting. The few cottages nestled within the valleys added a sense of tranquility to the scene, while the birds flying through the hazy clouds hinted at the profound depth of the painting, adding a touch of ethereal quality.
The head of security heard the continuous praise from the earpiece. Without a doubt, this was an authentic piece.
“Ms. Mirabelle, how can you prove that this is your work?”
In the past, Mirabella might have simply retorted, “Believe it or not, I don’t care,” but now, eager to finish this task and head home, she picked up a brush and started recreating a part of the painting on a prepared piece of paper.
This portion, taking up a tenth of the entire piece, was completed in less than five minutes.
The security head was stunned, as was the person on the other end of the earpiece. They couldn’t believe a young woman could complete a tenth of the painting in such a short time. And the thing was, this painting was really hers!
She was indeed Mirabelle!
Seeing their silence, Mirabella asked indifferently, “Any other questions?”
She had another place to get to and didn’t want to waste her time here.
“Ms. Mirabelle, please wait a moment. Our boss would like to meet you personally.”
Hearing this, Mirabella waited quietly. A middle-aged man descended the metal stairs briskly, followed by a group of bodyguards.
He was not decked out in gold or sporting any designer watches. Dressed casually, he looked like a successful man ready for a round of golf at any moment.
From his youthful face and demeanor, Mirabella could tell he was an important figure in some industry.
“Ms. Mirabelle, it’s an honor to meet you,” the middle-aged man said as he extended his hand first.
Mirabella shook his hand.
His fingers were soft and broad, further evidence of his affluent lifestyle.
“I’ve always thought that Ms. Mirabelle was a man, and yet you’re so young and beautiful,” he said respectfully. “Both my mother and I are big fans of your work.”
“Thank you.”
The middle-aged man picked up the piece on the table and said, “The landscape rendered in light ink, combined with the strong brushwork, gives the canvas a broad sense of space. It seems realistic yet surreal. The creek is gentle. Ms. Mirabelle, you paint so beautifully!”
Suddenly, he felt that ten million dollars might be too little.
Such an artwork was worth at least fifty million!
“Do you need me to make any changes?” Mirabella asked abruptly.
This caught the middle-aged man off guard. He looked a bit puzzled, then turned to the head of security.
Changes?
He wasn’t quite sure what she meant.
The head of security explained, “When we were communicating with Ms. Mirabelle’s team earlier, we were concerned that she may not want to make an appearance, so we suggested that if there were any dissatisfaction with the painting, she would need to make the corrections in person.”
“What a load of hogwash!” The middle-aged man suddenly scolded loudly, “This is a downright disrespect to Ms. Mirabelle, you folks are going off half-cocked. You should apologize to Ms. Mirabelle right away.”
The head of the security immediately dropped his gaze, apologizing to the middle-aged man and
Mirabelle, saying that even though the idea wasn’t his brainchild, he needed to shoulder the blame.
“Ms. Mirabelle, I’m sorry for the misconduct of my team.” The middle-aged man again shook hands with
Mirabella, expressing his deep apology.
“Your interpretation of the artwork is spot-on. I thought you’d use conventional symbols to denote longevity and peace, but you chose such a unique path, it’s really striking and top-notch!”
In this painting, there were two special birds, a species native only to eastern countries.
The long tail feathers of the birds looked like ribbons, and they had the longest lifespan among small birds. Hence, they symbolized longevity.
The two birds were flying through the clouds, their motions intricately depicted.
Every element in the painting, be it the birds, the landscapes, or the flora, came to life under Mirabella’s brush, captivating the viewer.
“There are many good painters in the art world, but no one can compare to you when it comes to capturing the hardest elements of form and essence.”
Other artists’ works either lacked depth in the ambiance or didn’t adequately represent the form.
But Mirabella was hailed as a master of oriental painting art, not only because she brought a fresh style to the art form, not only because each of her works had a distinct personal touch, but crucially, because she could capture the hard-to-grasp essence and form in her art.
This exquisite skill was beyond the average artist.
“Ms. Mirabelle, could I ask for your autograph?” A middle-aged man, looking like a fanboy, gazed expectantly at Mirabella.
“Sure.” Mirabella remained calm. “Where should I sign?”
“Here.” The man opened a cherished notebook he carried with him, handing it over with both hands.
Mirabella picked up the pen, writing a line on the first page: May you seize favourable opportunities and circumstances, brave difficulties, and stride forward to realize your lofty aspirations.
She signed her name in the bottom right corner: Mirabelle.
The man didn’t expect Ms. Mirabelle to include a blessing for him, he was touched and unexpectedly noticed that Ms. Mirabelle’s handwriting resembled that of a calligrapher he admired. Before he could think more, Ms. Mirabelle spoke.
“I have other matters to attend to, unless there’s anything else, I’ll take my leave.” Mirabella was about to leave.
The man hurried, “Ms. Mirabelle, please wait.”
Mirabella was puzzled, was there something else?
“I just wanted to ask, Ms. Mirabelle, do you have a boyfriend? My son is about your age.”
Mirabella caught his drift and replied lightly, “I have a boyfriend.”
She has a boyfriend?
A hint of regret flashed in the man’s eyes, but he quickly said, “That’s alright, I’ll walk you out, Ms.
Mirabelle.”
“No need.” Mirabella said lightly, “Please hold.”
She nodded and was about to leave the warehouse when she saw a security guard quickly approach the middle-aged man, whispering something in his ear.
The man looked towards Mirabella’s retreating figure, asking with some surprise, “Ms. Mirabelle, do you know Romeo from McMllian Corporation?”
Mirabella stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him.
“My man here tells me that you’re driving Romeo’s car.”
Mirabella frowned slightly. She had this feeling that someone was sneakily watching her from upstairs.
Calmly, she said, “If you need anything in the future, just talk to me directly. Don’t bother him.”
The middle-aged man looked a bit confused. Was she worried about him bothering Romeo?
Just as he was about to explain that she might have got it wrong, he saw the girl glance upstairs, walk out of the warehouse, take a hairpin from the bodyguard’s leader, get into a car, and leave.
She was young, but had such a strong personality and presence.
The woman upstairs only came down after Mirabella had left. “Do you think she noticed me?”
“Nah, she just casually looked up. Probably because the light above was too glaring.” The middle-aged man pulled her into his embrace, “After we deliver the painting tomorrow, let’s leave this place.”
“Alright.” The woman looked at Mirabella’s retreating figure with a hint of regret in her voice, “It’s a shame. She already has a boyfriend.”
If that wasn’t the case, Mirabella’s aura, age, and painting skills would have been a good match for her son.
Mirabella drove to her next destination and called Romeo to update him on her situation.
Having anxiously waited for nearly an hour at home, Romeo finally heard her voice and felt a weight lift off his heart.
“Does anyone else know that the hairpin you gave me is a tracker?” Mirabella suddenly asked.
Romeo was a bit puzzled, “Did you get caught?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they give you trouble?”
“No.”
Romeo heaved a sigh of relief and began to ponder.
“Only my development team and I have seen the hairpin. It hasn’t been leaked, and it’s not available on the market.” Romeo said, “The development team is loyal to me, and they wouldn’t betray me.”
Their wealth wouldn’t be enough to buy a painting priced at ten million either.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.