Chapter 62

Having grown used to Eliana's cool detachment,Tristan trailed after her with casual ease.

The moment his gaze landed on her, a faint smile tugged at his lips-and stayed there, unbroken.

Any earlier vow to keep his emotions in check evaporated from his mind.

Flanked by a wall of bodyguards in crisp black suits,the pair strode swiftly into the venue.

The entrance hush lasted only a beat before the crowd collected themselves.

Several men,their initial shock fading into tight-lipped displeasure, exchanged loaded glances.

These were not ordinary guests-they were business heavyweights with ongoing projects under the Pearson Group's umbrella-yet not one of them had ever been honored with Tristan's personal welcome.

Eliana,however, gave no indication she was impressed.Her chin lifted slightly, her eyes calm but edged with pride, as though Tristan's presence carried no weight in her world at all.

Back when the Murray family still reigned among the city's elite, such behavior might have been tolerated

But now that the Murray Group had collapsed into bankruptcy, the men in attendance considered them beneath even polishing their shoes. To see Tristan,calm and attentive toward Eliana despite her frosty demeanor, was something they could neither accept nor understand.

Among the women, the disapproval was just as sharp -particularly from the younger ones.

Tristan's striking looks had set many hearts racing,making him the ideal man in their eyes. Yet here was Eliana, the very woman they had dismissed, carrying herself with imperious confidence in his presence.

The sight stoked their resentment and jealousy until it burned at its peak.

At that moment, movement at the entrance drew their attention. Security staff began inspecting invitations with meticulous care.

This charity exhibition wasn't just any social event-it was an exclusive gathering of the city's most influential, and the coveted invitations were few and fiercely sought after. The guests had arrived brimming with anticipation,clutching their invitations as if they were golden tickets.

Yet the moment they saw Tristan personally usher Eliana inside, their excitement dimmed, and the invites in their hands suddenly felt far less precious.

Not everyone reacted with bitterness. The shrewder among them quickly recalculated, deciding there was merit in aligning themselves with Eliana once inside.

They reasoned that Tristan wouldn't extend such courtesy to someone of modest background without a compelling reason-befriend her, and perhaps his favor would follow.

To them, quiet contempt and polite flattery were not contradictions but parallel strategies.

By then, Eliana had already stepped into the heart of the event.

The building was arranged in three distinct sections: a welcoming foyer dominated by a gleaming sign-in board, the central exhibition hall beyond it,and on either side of the space, the conference area to the left and a plush lounge area with a dining section to the right.

Following Tristan's lead, Eliana walked past the sign-in desk and entered the heart of the exhibition.

Rows of artworks floated weightlessly, suspended by levitation technology, their frames glinting under the ambient lighting. Eliana's lashes trembled as she took them in.

It had started as nothing more than a pitch to the curator, yet here it was, alive and breathtaking.

Assuming her gaze meant fascination, Tristan inclined his head. "Would you like me to give you the full tour?Today's charity auction is showcasing internationally renowned pieces."

Noticing the curious stares from every direction,Eliana's brows drew together. "No, that's alright. Go take care of what you need to. I'll look around on my own."

With the event about to begin and final preparations still pending, he simply nodded. "Very well. Once things are underway, I'll come find you."

Turning to Rocco, he added in a low, firm tone,"Stay with Eliana."

Rocco straightened as he replied, his tone brisk with agreement, "Got it."

Doran's eyes kept drifting toward him, tinged with envy. Tagging along with Tristan meant endless errands, while being paired with Eliana looked more like a leisurely stroll than work. It felt to him as though Tristan were playing favorites.

Then another thought struck-maybe Tristan believed Rocco's looks outshone his own, and that was why he'd entrusted him with Eliana. That thought alone soothed Doran's pride.

Completely oblivious to Doran's silent grumbling,Rocco offered Eliana a polite, almost formal gesture,inviting her forward.

She inclined her head in acknowledgment, then began to wander deeper into the exhibition hall at a slow,measured pace.

Tristan lingered for a few seconds, watching Eliana's retreatingfigure before Doran's voice drew him back to the matter at hand.

The guest list included prominent figures from the political sphere,among them Rupert Oliver, the newly appointed mayor who had only stepped into office a few days earlier.

The former mayor's abrupt removal for investigation -over matters closely entangled with Louis' troubles -was still the talk of the city.

"I've spoken with Mayor Oliver before. He's not hard to work with. But..." Doran began, then paused mid- thought.

Tristan's eyes narrowed slightly. "But what?"

Doran rubbed the back of his neck, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "He kept asking if there was someone you favored. I dodged the question as best I could."

A knowing look crossed Tristan's features, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly. "Perfect. I'll answer him myself."

···...

In the main exhibition hall. Eliana came to a halt before a certain canvas, her gaze settling on it for a lingering moment.

The painting wasn't the work of just any artist-it belonged to her own student, Davin.

"Ms. Murray, are you a fan of Mr. Gordon's work?"Rocco inquired, watching her closely.

She gave a casual shrug and answered, "Not really."

Her blunt answer carried through the hushed admiration of those gathered nearby, drawing curious glances.

Among them stood the young woman Leyla had brought along.

Already harboring resentment toward Eliana-especially after Eliana refused to share Tristan's preferences at their last meeting-the woman seized her chance to speak. Her lips curled with disdain.

"Mr. Gordon is a legendary artist. I get that you don't know the first thing about art-you're just a country bumpkin-but don't spout igmorant monsense," she remarked, each word laced with malice.

Rocco's brow furrowed as it ready to fire back, but Eliana reached out and gently touched his arm, a small shake of her head urging him to stand down."Leave it," she murmuired

Her restraint, however, was not shared by the other party.

The moment Eliana turned to walk away, the woman darted forward, stepping directly into Eliana's way."Hold it! You really think you can insult Mr. Gordon and just stroll off?"

Eliana's gaze finally met hers, cool and unhurried.

Recognition flickered instantly-this was the same sharp-tongued girl from her welcome-home banquet,the one who had sneered about her being a country bumpkin chasing a wealthy husband. The woman was none other than Frieda Larson.

"It's you again," Eliana muttered evenly.

Frieda gave a derisive snort. "You bad-mouthed Mr.Gordon and think you can just walk away? Not happening. You owe him an apology! Don't you all agree?"

The group gathered in front of the painting happened to be admirers of Davin's work, and they eagerly rallied behind Frieda's call. "Exactly! You'd better apologize to him!"

"You're spouting nonsense without knowing a thing!Do you even know Mr. Gordon's here today? One word out of place and we'll make sure you regret it!"

Eliana's gaze swept over them, her expressioncool and unyielding. "AlL I said was that I don't care for his painting. Since when does that count as an insult?"

Frieda's lips curled in disdain. "You knew he was here,yet you declared your dislike for his work in front of everyone. How is that not insulting him?"

It was clear to anyone paying attention that she was deliberately twisting Eliana's words.

Still, Eliana found the whole exchange faintly amusing rather than infuriating. "This piece is poorly executed. Why shouldn't I be allowed to say I don't like it?"

"Poorly executed? You're just babbling without a clue what you're talking about," Frieda scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain.

"I'm only speaking the truth," Eliana replied evenly,her voice calm but steady.

"Oh really? Then enlighten us-what exactly is so poorly done?" Frieda pressed, her eyes narrowing.

She had always assumed anyone from the countryside had a shallow grasp of art, and she was certain Eliana wouldn't be able to give a single insightful critique.