Chapter 133
Inside the exhibition hall, the air seemed to freeze.
The surrounding crowd began whispering.
"Oh my god, that painting..."
"One of Mr. Fields's most treasured pieces—I heard it's worth a fortune."
"This is serious trouble."
Lorelei turned her head slightly, hiding the triumphant smile at the corner of her lips. "Ms. Kennedy, can you afford that much money?"
Yet Josephine clearly saw the gleeful satisfaction she couldn't conceal in her eyes.
Catching sight of Gideon approaching from the corner of her eye, Lorelei immediately restrained her schadenfreude, replacing it with perfectly calibrated concern.
"I know your situation—you're divorcing Mr. Getty now. Where would you get the money? Why don't you talk to Mr. Getty and ask him to help you?"
Lorelei had investigated Josephine. She was an extremely stubborn woman with innate pride.
She would absolutely never ask Gideon for help.
A figure had already rushed to Josephine's side.
It was Cedric. He crouched down, carefully examining Josephine's injuries. With so many people watching, Josephine gritted her teeth, wanting to say she was fine, but the pain in her knee made her movements stiff.
Cedric frowned, saying quietly, "Don't move. Let me see."
Cedric carefully rolled up her dress hem. Her knee was badly scraped, blood staining her skin—the sight was shocking.
Her elbow was in a similar condition—the wound wasn't deep but covered a large area.
"This needs medical attention."
He helped Josephine stand. Her legs felt weak, and she had to lean on him to steady herself.
This gesture, seen by others, prompted another round of whispers.
Just then, the crowd parted as a young man approached. He was about thirty, with a stern face and sharp eyes—none other than Daryl, the exhibition's host.
Daryl's gaze first fell on the shattered painting, his expression instantly darkening. His voice wasn't loud but carried suppressed anger. "What happened?"
Lorelei spoke first, her voice gentle yet clear. "Mr. Fields, I'm so sorry. Just now, when Ms. Kennedy was admiring the painting, she accidentally fell and knocked into it. It was an accident—Ms. Kennedy didn't mean to."
Hestia wasn't to be outdone, adding fuel to the fire. "We all saw it. Ms. Kennedy clearly saw the painting—how could she fall? You knew how expensive this painting was. You should have been more careful passing by!"
Daryl's expression grew increasingly grim. He walked to the broken painting, crouched down, and carefully picked up a frame fragment, his fingers gently rubbing the broken edge.
"This painting," Daryl slowly stood, his gaze sweeping over Josephine, then the surrounding crowd, "I acquired at an auction three years ago. The price then was thirty-eight million dollars."
A collective gasp filled the air.
Thirty-eight million dollars!
This figure shocked everyone. Though they knew Daryl's collection was valuable, no one expected a single painting to be this expensive.
Josephine's heart sank. Thirty-eight million dollars wasn't a small sum. And that was just the price from three years ago—it would likely be higher now.
Daryl's gaze returned to Josephine, his eyes cold. "Ms. Kennedy, I'm very sorry this happened at my exhibition. But there must be accountability for the damaged piece."
His tone had become quite discourteous.
Cedric calmly shielded Josephine, his tone indifferent. "She's injured. I'll take her to treat her wounds first. We can discuss the painting's compensation later."
Daryl also noticed Josephine's injuries and didn't want to be too harsh, so he agreed.
Josephine walked unsteadily. Just as she frowned, Cedric picked her up.
Turning, she saw Gideon.
She didn't know how long he'd been watching, his expression cold as ice.
Josephine didn't insist on independence. She patted Cedric's shoulder, and he remained still. Josephine looked over Cedric's shoulder at Daryl. "Mr. Fields, I'd like to ask you something."
Daryl frowned. "What do you want to say?"
Josephine's gaze swept over Lorelei and Hestia before settling on Daryl. "Mr. Fields, you just said you acquired this painting at an auction three years ago for thirty-eight million dollars, correct?"
"That's right," Daryl said coldly.
"Do you remember which auction house?"
Daryl froze for a moment, then frowned. "Why are you asking this?"
"Just want to confirm some details," Josephine said lightly. "Thirty-eight million dollars isn't a small amount. Regarding compensation, everything should be crystal clear."
Daryl stared at her for several seconds. The logic made sense. He spoke slowly, "Opulent Auction House, three years ago at the spring auction."
"Thank you."
As Josephine's words fell, Cedric carried her past Gideon.
Gideon's expression was cold as frost, staring straight at Lorelei.
Lorelei's spine stiffened. "Gideon..."
Gideon simply turned his head away, completely ignoring her.
Lorelei withdrew her gaze unwillingly, exchanging a look with Hestia, feeling somewhat uneasy. Josephine's reaction was different from what they'd anticipated.
She was too calm—unsettlingly calm.
A second-floor bedroom.
Cedric was treating Josephine's wounds.
When the disinfectant touched the wound, Josephine gasped in pain, her fingers gripping the armrest tightly.
Cedric's movements paused. When he continued, they were noticeably gentler.
He seemed inexperienced at treating wounds, his movements initially clumsy but quickly becoming proficient. He cleaned the wounds, applied ointment, and wrapped them with gauze. "Don't get them wet for the next few days. Change the dressing once daily. If there's redness, swelling, or fever, tell me—I'll take you to the hospital."
Josephine looked down at her hands. "Thank you."
Just now downstairs, if not for Cedric's undisguised protection, she might not have escaped unscathed.
After all, everyone was watching her become a laughingstock.
Josephine sat on the bed's edge while Cedric leaned against the headboard, long legs casually extended, looking down at the small whorl at the crown of her head. "How do you plan to handle this?"
He offered a reminder. "Daryl isn't easy to deal with."
Josephine carefully adjusted her leg. Fortunately, it no longer hurt. "I know. This compensation is unavoidable, but..."
She paused.
This piqued Cedric's curiosity, his gaze fixed on her.
Josephine's lips curved slightly with a hint of cunning. "Since they set this trap specifically for me, naturally, I have ways to counterattack."
Cedric nodded, not pressing further, though his eyes held some amusement. "If you need help, tell me anytime."
"Okay."
Josephine wouldn't be polite. After all, they were now a community of shared interests, people on the same boat.
When help was needed, she'd ask.
After treating the wounds, they went back downstairs.
The atmosphere in the hall remained tense. Daryl stood before the shattered painting. Gideon was speaking to him in low tones, but Daryl's expression remained poor—Gideon's words seemed to have little effect.
A circle of people surrounded them, including Lorelei and Hestia.
Seeing Josephine descend, all eyes focused on her.
Daryl's gaze swept over her bandaged knee and elbow, his tone so flat it was impossible to read. "Wounds treated?"
"Everything's fine now." Yet Josephine sensed an approaching storm.
Daryl withdrew his gaze, looking at the painting with intense regret in his eyes. "Then let's calculate how much this painting should be compensated."