Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 135: Chapter 135
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 135: Chapter 135. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Adaline told the onlookers in a firm voice, "Annabelle painted it. That New Year, her father was away on business and surprised her by coming home on New Year's Eve."
"Before dinner he arrived, and she'd been waiting out in the courtyard—hence this painting."
With every word, it felt as though Adaline flayed Elena's heart anew.
So they remembered everything—yet they had grafted Elena's memory onto Annabelle's life.
Elena laughed, and while she laughed, tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks.
Adaline's chest tightened at the sight, but she steeled herself and fastened the label of plagiarist onto Elena.
"She's my daughter too," Adaline announced, "and I won't shield anyone. As their mother, I apologize that plagiarism has occurred in our home."
"Elena, I expect you never to do such a thing again."
Agony sliced through Elena's heart like a honed blade.
She glanced at Annabelle; a triumphant glimmer flashed across her sister's eyes, gone in an instant.
"So it really was her who copied!" someone exclaimed.
"A plagiarist and still brazen enough to hang the work in an exhibition—shameless!"
"How can a stolen piece even be displayed here?"
One man strode forward, yanked the painting down, and snarled, "I despise thieves! I was plagiarized once; fighting for my rights was hell. People like this should be driven out forever!"
He flung the canvas to the floor and began to stomp on it.
Elena's eyes flew wide. "No—stop!"
She dove, shoved the man aside, and sprawled over the painting, cradling it with her arms as though shielding treasure.
The man, still incensed, brought his foot down again—this time on the back of Elena's hand.
"Ah!" Elena screamed; her face blanched, but she refused to relinquish the painting.
It was her most cherished possession; the people within might no longer love her, yet the memory of them remained flawless.
She wanted to protect the parents and brother preserved in that memory.
The Bennett family watched, brows knitted so fiercely that lines carved deep between them.
Each felt as though a sharp spike had been driven straight into the heart.
"Enough!" the organizer barked, voice like a whip crack.
"Elena Bennett, you're a well-known artist—who would have thought you'd sabotage your own future like this!"
"Just take your painting and leave—now."
The event organizers ordered her entire collection carried out of the hall.
Julian Bennett, teeth grinding, glared at Elena sprawled on the polished floor; then he lunged forward, seized her wrist, and dragged her toward the exit.
"Come outside with me!" Julian snapped.
Elena moved like a walking corpse, allowing herself to be hauled into the corridor.
Julian stared at the angry welts across the back of her hand and growled, "It's only one painting! Why did you have to snatch it, ruin your own hand, and make us feel sorry for you on purpose?"
Tears filmed Elena's eyes, yet she gave him a mocking smile. "Sorry for me? Hardly. If any of you actually cared, you wouldn't accuse me of plagiarism when you know Annie copied my work."
Julian's jaw tightened. "It's just a painting. Does it matter who painted it first? Annie has already suffered so much—can't you let her have this one thing?"
Adaline hurried out after them.
"Elena, I know you blame me—hate me if you must—but Annie's acting career is already ruined. We can't let her art career be destroyed too."
"Before dinner he arrived, and she'd been waiting out in the courtyard—hence this painting."
With every word, it felt as though Adaline flayed Elena's heart anew.
So they remembered everything—yet they had grafted Elena's memory onto Annabelle's life.
Elena laughed, and while she laughed, tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks.
Adaline's chest tightened at the sight, but she steeled herself and fastened the label of plagiarist onto Elena.
"She's my daughter too," Adaline announced, "and I won't shield anyone. As their mother, I apologize that plagiarism has occurred in our home."
"Elena, I expect you never to do such a thing again."
Agony sliced through Elena's heart like a honed blade.
She glanced at Annabelle; a triumphant glimmer flashed across her sister's eyes, gone in an instant.
"So it really was her who copied!" someone exclaimed.
"A plagiarist and still brazen enough to hang the work in an exhibition—shameless!"
"How can a stolen piece even be displayed here?"
One man strode forward, yanked the painting down, and snarled, "I despise thieves! I was plagiarized once; fighting for my rights was hell. People like this should be driven out forever!"
He flung the canvas to the floor and began to stomp on it.
Elena's eyes flew wide. "No—stop!"
She dove, shoved the man aside, and sprawled over the painting, cradling it with her arms as though shielding treasure.
The man, still incensed, brought his foot down again—this time on the back of Elena's hand.
"Ah!" Elena screamed; her face blanched, but she refused to relinquish the painting.
It was her most cherished possession; the people within might no longer love her, yet the memory of them remained flawless.
She wanted to protect the parents and brother preserved in that memory.
The Bennett family watched, brows knitted so fiercely that lines carved deep between them.
Each felt as though a sharp spike had been driven straight into the heart.
"Enough!" the organizer barked, voice like a whip crack.
"Elena Bennett, you're a well-known artist—who would have thought you'd sabotage your own future like this!"
"Just take your painting and leave—now."
The event organizers ordered her entire collection carried out of the hall.
Julian Bennett, teeth grinding, glared at Elena sprawled on the polished floor; then he lunged forward, seized her wrist, and dragged her toward the exit.
"Come outside with me!" Julian snapped.
Elena moved like a walking corpse, allowing herself to be hauled into the corridor.
Julian stared at the angry welts across the back of her hand and growled, "It's only one painting! Why did you have to snatch it, ruin your own hand, and make us feel sorry for you on purpose?"
Tears filmed Elena's eyes, yet she gave him a mocking smile. "Sorry for me? Hardly. If any of you actually cared, you wouldn't accuse me of plagiarism when you know Annie copied my work."
Julian's jaw tightened. "It's just a painting. Does it matter who painted it first? Annie has already suffered so much—can't you let her have this one thing?"
Adaline hurried out after them.
"Elena, I know you blame me—hate me if you must—but Annie's acting career is already ruined. We can't let her art career be destroyed too."
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 135. Continue reading Chapter 136 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.