How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 93

Esmeralda had just finished grimacing her way through a bottle of medicine when she turned toward Elodie. "There must be tons of places like that, right? All sorts of shady organizations buying up art from all over, reselling it through different channels."

She paused, frowning in confusion. "Why do you ask?"

Elodie pinched the bridge of her nose before answering. "My mom lost a painting years ago. Even in her last days, she couldn't let it go. Her third anniversary is coming up, and I thought if I could track it down, maybe it would fulfill her last wish."

She remembered her grandmother mentioning it once in passing.

The missing piece was the bottom half of a painting—her mother's graduation project, if she recalled correctly. Something had gone wrong halfway through, and in the end, it was never used.

But that year, her mother had graduated and returned to Eldermere. Paintings like that tended to circulate, especially in a city like Eldermere, with its bustling art market. Maybe there was a chance she could find a lead here.

Esmeralda pondered for a moment, then nodded. "I'll ask around, see what I can find out. Just hang tight, I'll let you know if I hear anything."

Elodie didn't put much stock in it. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack—she could only try her best.

What she didn't expect was to hear back by lunchtime.

Esmeralda came bursting in, cheeks flushed with excitement. "There's a private collector's exhibition next week. Apparently, they'll be showing a ton of modern masterpieces, works from all over the world. The guy owns an entire building here in Eldermere—one floor is a full-on gallery, and another's dedicated solely to his grandfather's calligraphy and paintings. The whole thing's over the top."

She paused, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "But…"

"But what?"

"The exhibition's hosted by the Warwick family. They do this every year, but it's strictly invite-only. The guest list is set in stone—only the elite of the elite get in. Regular people don't stand a chance."

Elodie's eyes widened. She knew all about the Warwicks; they were just as famous as the Silverstein family—a household name in high society. The threshold for entry was sky-high.

Esmeralda sighed, spreading her hands helplessly. "I don't have any connections to get us in."

"What connections?" Alexander walked in, files in hand, glancing up at them.

Esmeralda's eyes lit up instantly. "Alex, do you know anyone from the Warwick family?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I know the eldest son, but he's overseas. Why?"

Elodie's heart skipped. "Could you reach him?"