Accidentally Crossing the Tycoon Chapter 103

Audrey's POV:

Mrs. Cole studied me with newfound interest, her elegant features softening.

"It's true. Around the eyes, especially."

She reached out as if to touch my face, but stopped herself.

"There's something so familiar about you, dear. "

I managed a polite smile, unsure how to respond to being compared to someone I'd just met.

"That's... very kind of you to say."

Mrs. Cole glanced around, suddenly realizing we were all still standing in the middle of the ballroom.

"Oh, but where are my manners? We shouldn't keep everyone standing like this."

She gestured toward the elaborate table arrangements.

"Let's get everyone seated. The first course will be served shortly."

Turning to Caspar, she added with practiced grace, "Mr. Thornton, we've prepared a special table for you near the front—"

"Thank you for your consideration, Mrs. Cole, but that won't be necessary," Caspar interrupted smoothly.

"I'd prefer to sit with Ms. Lane and my son. I don't want to engage in extra social activities."

Mrs. Cole's expression shifted to understanding.

"Of course, Mr. Thornton. I completely understand wanting to enjoy the evening." She smiled warmly.

We were seated at a round table with several other guests, all of whom regarded us with barely concealed curiosity.

The woman across from me, wearing an extravagant emerald necklace, leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile.

"You have such a beautiful family," she whispered loudly. "Your son is absolutely adorable."

"Oh, we're not—" I began, but the woman continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"How long have you two been married?" she asked, looking between Caspar and me.

"We're not married," I clarified quickly. "I'm not his mother."

The correction hung awkwardly in the air.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Noah's expression cloud over, his small shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly.

Before I could say anything to comfort him, a commotion near the entrance caught everyone's attention.

Daisy Cole was making her way toward our table, her arm linked with a slim woman in an overly dramatic black dress.

"Caspar!" Daisy's voice rang out, deliberately loud enough to ensure everyone nearby could hear.

"I simply must introduce you to someone extraordinary." She pulled the woman forward.

"This is Liora, the brilliant artist I told you about. She's agreed to create a special piece for my mom's birthday."

The announcement sent a ripple of excited whispers through the nearby tables.

I could hear snippets of conversations as guests turned to get a glimpse of the supposed art world sensation.

"First Caspar Thornton and now Liora?" gasped a woman in a sequined gown. "The Coles certainly know how to draw the elite!"

"I've been trying to commission her for years," a gray-haired man murmured to his companion. "My art dealer says her waiting list is three years long."

"Her paintings are always priceless." another guest added with reverent awe.

Daisy basked in the reflected glory.

The attention seemed to make her glow, her smile growing wider with each admiring comment from the crowd.

She flicked her gaze dismissively at me,

"...whatever unknown corner of the art world you emerged from, Ms. Lane." She laughed, a brittle sound that didn't reach her eyes.

"Just imagine what Noah could accomplish with proper artistic guidance from someone like Liora, instead of..."

She waved vaguely in my direction, "...basic preschool techniques. The boy has genuine talent that deserves nurturing from established artists, not just anyone with a paintbrush."

Clara, who was passing by with a champagne flute in hand, let out an audible scoff.

Daisy's head snapped toward the sound, her radar for anything that might diminish her spotlight moment perfectly tuned.

"Something funny, Clara?" she asked, her voice sugar-coated but with a sharp edge.

Clara took a slow sip of her champagne. "Just amused watching people count money for someone who's selling counterfeit goods."

The metaphor hung in the air like a challenge.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Daisy demanded, her smile vanishing.

Finley approached behind Clara, his tall frame casting a shadow that seemed to provide her additional confidence.

He fixed his gaze on the supposed Liora. His tone was professionally curious.

"You claim to be Liora?"

The woman straightened, clearly misreading his attention as interest rather than suspicion.

She extended a manicured hand with practiced elegance.

"Yes, I am. And you are...?"

"Finley Blackwood," he replied simply, not taking her offered hand. "Owner of Blackwood Gallery in London. Exclusive representative for Liora's work in Europe."

"But I don't seem to have met you before," said Finley carelessly.

The color drained from the woman's face.

Daisy's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Wait a minute. If you're truly Liora's exclusive agent, why have you never mentioned this before? "

Finley remained composed.

"You of all people should understand why, Daisy," he replied, a subtle edge creeping into his voice.

"When has my involvement in the art world ever been welcomed in family conversations? Every time I mention my gallery, my father changes the subject to the family business."

Daisy's cheeks flushed with pink splotches, a telltale sign of her rising agitation.

"This is ridiculous," she insisted, her voice pitching slightly higher.

"You're clearly just saying all this because of what happened with Clara's room. You're upset that I moved your fiancée to accommodate an actual artist, so now you're making up this absurd story."

The fake Liora seemed to recover some of her confidence, nodding along with Daisy's accusations.

"I've never heard of Blackwood Gallery," she added, her accent slipping slightly.

Finley's expression remained neutral as he pulled out his phone. A few quick taps, and he turned the screen toward the gathering crowd.

"The London Arts Weekly feature on emerging galleries, published three months ago. There's my photo, the gallery's storefront, and—" he paused meaningfully, "—an interview about my exclusive representation of Liora in Europe."

The woman's momentary confidence crumbled as she stared at the undeniable evidence.

"If you were actually Liora," Finley continued calmly, "you would certainly recognize your exclusive European representative. Isn't it?"

Daisy insisted, though her voice had lost its edge. "If you're saying she's not Liora, then who is?"

"The real Liora is actually here with us tonight," Finley announced.

A ripple of gasps and murmurs spread through the gathering crowd. Heads swiveled, searching the room.

"Who?" someone called out. "Where?"

Finley gestured toward me with a nod. "Audrey Lane is Liora."

All eyes turned to me. Caspar's expression shifted from mild interest to intense focus, his gaze studying me.

"That's absurd," Daisy sputtered, but her protest sounded hollow even to her own ears.

"She's just a children's art teacher! Even if this woman I invited isn't the real Liora, there's no way *she* could be."

I wiped my mouth with my napkin, suddenly tired of the entire spectacle.

"Honestly, Daisy, if I were you, I'd worry less about who I am and more about the fact that you've invited an impostor to your party." I stood up, smoothing my dress.

"The Coles have considerable wealth, so perhaps you're not concerned about being defrauded of a few hundred thousand dollars. But being known as the family who got conned by a fake artist? That's the kind of gossip that sticks around for years."

Daisy's face flushed red.

"I've had my fill of both food and drama for the evening," I said, placing my napkin beside my plate.

"Thank you for the meal, but I believe I'm done here."