Chapter 167 The Voice That Called It Fake
Tonight's banquet hall was filled with the wealthiest and most influential people in River City.
Among this crowd, many were seasoned collectors of antiques and fine art. Even those who knew little about the field had at least heard one name—Ivan.
Ivan was not only one of the most brilliant sculptors of his era, but a figure whose reputation had been etched permanently into the history of art.
In the catalog of masterpieces that defined art history, the works of Ivan stood as towering achievements. Three of his sculptures were universally regarded as the pinnacle of his career—the marble-carved Rose Vase, the silver-inlaid marble goblet, and the walnut-and-silver pen stand.
Each piece was a marvel of craftsmanship, its details so precise that critics often described them as miracles in the history of human sculpture.
But the tides of war had scattered them. They vanished overseas, their whereabouts unknown.
Of the three, only the pen stand had resurfaced in recent years, appearing at an auction and selling for an astronomical sum.
The other two had remained lost… until now.
Or so it seemed.
For there, on a velvet-lined display table in the center of the hall, stood one of them—the marble Rose Vase.
A ripple of awe swept through the crowd.
"My God, is that really Ivan's marble Rose Vase? Anna, where on earth did you get it?"
"This is a one-of-a-kind treasure. Ms. Williams just said she wouldn't mention the price, but to acquire something like this… it must have cost well over ten million dollars."
"Price doesn't even begin to cover it. You could have all the money in the world and still fail to get your hands on something like this. Ms. Williams must have extraordinary connections."
"To go to such lengths to secure an Ivan masterpiece… Ms. Williams, you've truly gone above and beyond. Mr. Williams is lucky to have a granddaughter like you."
The praise flowed toward Anna like warm currents, lifting her higher with each word. Her smile threatened to spill beyond the bounds of polite restraint.
"No, no… you're far too kind," she said with a modest shake of her head.
Her voice was humble, but inside she felt a rush of relief.
Acquiring the piece had cost her dearly, but if it pleased her grandfather, every cent was worth it.
And of course, her earlier worries had been unnecessary.
After all, who could truly tell the difference between genuine and imitation at a glance? Most people had only ever seen photographs of the original. No one here had laid eyes on the real thing.
But Amelia had.
The moment her gaze fell on the vase, her brow furrowed.
It was a fake.
Anna was standing here, publicly presenting a reproduction as if it were the real deal, intending to gift it to Vaughn for his birthday.
Amelia studied her—unsure whether Anna had been deceived herself, or whether she knew full well and simply didn't care.
Either way, Amelia wasn't going to expose her.
This was Vaughn's birthday celebration. Anna was his granddaughter. To denounce the piece as a forgery in front of everyone would tarnish Vaughn's reputation more than Anna's.
What Amelia didn't expect was that she wasn't the only one who had spotted the truth.
And the other person clearly had no qualms about speaking it aloud.
"Wait a second—this isn't right!"
The stream of compliments broke off abruptly. Heads turned.
"Ms. Williams, have you been misled? That marble Rose Vase isn't an authentic Ivan. It's a reproduction."
The air seemed to crystallize into silence.
Someone had just accused Anna's marble Rose Vase of being fake.
Every pair of eyes swung toward the source of the voice.
It was a young man in his early twenties, just over average height, with a slender build and ordinary features. His skin bore the roughness of someone accustomed to wind and sun. He wore a plain white shirt and casual trousers, his dark hair slightly disheveled. Thick black-framed glasses perched on his nose, giving him a reserved, almost awkward look.
Clearly, he hadn't thought before speaking. Now, under the weight of so many stares, his shoulders instinctively hunched, as though he could make himself smaller.
Amelia froze for half a beat when she saw him.
She hadn't expected to encounter someone from her past life tonight.
And given what he had just done… well, it was exactly the sort of thing he would do.
Anna was more stunned than anyone else in the room.
Who was this man? How did he know?
She had gone to one of the most renowned masters of antique reproduction to commission this piece, paying a hundred thousand dollars for it. The craftsman had sworn—hand to heart—that unless someone had seen the genuine article up close, they would never spot the difference.
Yet this stranger had identified it from across the room?
"Who are you?" she demanded.
Anna knew most of the guests here by name. This face was unfamiliar. His plain clothes screamed outsider—someone who didn't belong to the circles of wealth and influence. Probably here as someone's plus-one.
Her voice sharpened. "What nonsense are you spouting? This marble Rose Vase was purchased overseas for ten million dollars. What gives you the right to call it a fake?"
The young man flinched at her anger, realizing his outburst had been rash. He hurried to explain.
"Forgive me, Ms. Williams. I meant no disrespect. But I recognized it as a reproduction, and when I heard you say you had paid ten million for it… I couldn't stand the thought of you being cheated out of so much money. I spoke without thinking."
Anna let out a short, incredulous laugh.
Whether she had been cheated or not was none of his concern. Who was he to interfere?
She wanted nothing more than to have security escort him out immediately.
But others in the crowd were intrigued.
"Sir, how can you tell it's a fake? It looks identical to the photographs of the original."
The last thing Anna wanted was for anyone to dig deeper, but the question had already been asked.
Before she could cut it off, the young man spoke again, his voice calm and certain.
"It looks identical because the reproducer copied the shape of the original with near-perfect precision."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep slowly across the room.
"But Ivan's work is famous not just for its flawless form… it's celebrated because it carries a unique sense of life and power."