Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 59: Chapter 59
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 59: Chapter 59. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Sir Whitmore nodded again, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Thrilled, Annabelle hooked her arm through his. "Next time you go fishing, Grandpa—"
He cut her off with a genial laugh. "Ellie, what did you bring for your grandpa?"
Annabelle's smile froze, embarrassment flashing across her face. She had spent a small fortune, yet the old man ignored her gifts and eagerly awaited whatever scrap Ellie had brought. Fury flared—she clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened.
Ellie moistened her lips. "Sir Whitmore, perhaps after the banquet I—"
"Ellie!" Annabelle raised her voice. "I'm dying to see your gift, too. How about showing everyone right now?"
Sir Whitmore looked at her, eyes bright with anticipation.
Annabelle added sweetly, "Grandpa treats Ellie like his own granddaughter, so her present must be something truly special."
The guests, their curiosity thoroughly piqued, leaned forward.
Annabelle darted over, seized Ellie's gift, and said, "Let me unwrap it for you!"
"Hold it." Sir Whitmore's tone turned firm. "I will open Ellie's present myself."
Annabelle's smile remained fixed. "Of course—please, Grandpa."
The gift was a rolled canvas secured with a red silk ribbon. Sir Whitmore untied it, peeled away the outer wrapping, and revealed a crimson ground.
When he unfurled it completely, a Hundred Longevity Characters scroll emerged—each character penned in a distinct, vigorous script, every stroke brimming with life. But the largest longevity character at the center had been smeared, the ink blurred into a grimy blotch.
A wave of whispers rolled through the hall, "What is this? Miss Elena actually gave Sir Whitmore such a mess?"—"Outrageous! No wonder she tried to hide it."
Ellie gaped at the scroll—when had the piece she'd penned so carefully been defaced? Beside her, Sir Whitmore stood rooted to the spot, stunned into silence.
Annabelle let out a theatrical sigh. "Ellie, how could you be so careless? Even if you didn't want to spend money, Grandpa deserves better than a botched gift like this!"
One of the guests sneered, "Miss Bennett was right—Elena Bennett, how could you present something like this? Do you think Sir Whitmore's birthday is some casual affair you can treat so lightly?"
Mocking laughter rippled through the room, rising like a tide that threatened to swallow Elena whole.
Sir Whitmore's expression remained kindly as he called her by the childhood nickname, "Ellie, tell Grandpa—did you write this calligraphy yourself?"
Elena gave a quick nod and murmured, "I'm sorry, Grandpa, it must look ridiculous to you."
Sir Whitmore traced the bold strokes with obvious appreciation. "The brushwork is strong—no one would guess a young woman wrote it. Only, here in the center..."
Elena's mind raced, but she owned the mistake with poise. "Grandpa, a little water must have splashed and blurred that section. I'd like to give you a small surprise—could we fetch some paints and brushes?"
Sir Whitmore's eyes lit up; he immediately had the servants bring over a full set of paints and fresh brushes.
Elena unfurled the canvas on the table and, entirely at ease, began working over the blurred spot in the Hundred Longevity Characters Scroll.
Within minutes, two lifelike immortal cranes emerged from her brushstrokes, seeming almost ready to lift off the paper.
A low, collective gasp spread through the onlookers.
Someone in the crowd whispered, "Fake heiress or not, the eldest Bennett girl is truly gifted—her calligraphy is gorgeous, and now her painting looks almost alive!"
Thrilled, Annabelle hooked her arm through his. "Next time you go fishing, Grandpa—"
He cut her off with a genial laugh. "Ellie, what did you bring for your grandpa?"
Annabelle's smile froze, embarrassment flashing across her face. She had spent a small fortune, yet the old man ignored her gifts and eagerly awaited whatever scrap Ellie had brought. Fury flared—she clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened.
Ellie moistened her lips. "Sir Whitmore, perhaps after the banquet I—"
"Ellie!" Annabelle raised her voice. "I'm dying to see your gift, too. How about showing everyone right now?"
Sir Whitmore looked at her, eyes bright with anticipation.
Annabelle added sweetly, "Grandpa treats Ellie like his own granddaughter, so her present must be something truly special."
The guests, their curiosity thoroughly piqued, leaned forward.
Annabelle darted over, seized Ellie's gift, and said, "Let me unwrap it for you!"
"Hold it." Sir Whitmore's tone turned firm. "I will open Ellie's present myself."
Annabelle's smile remained fixed. "Of course—please, Grandpa."
The gift was a rolled canvas secured with a red silk ribbon. Sir Whitmore untied it, peeled away the outer wrapping, and revealed a crimson ground.
When he unfurled it completely, a Hundred Longevity Characters scroll emerged—each character penned in a distinct, vigorous script, every stroke brimming with life. But the largest longevity character at the center had been smeared, the ink blurred into a grimy blotch.
A wave of whispers rolled through the hall, "What is this? Miss Elena actually gave Sir Whitmore such a mess?"—"Outrageous! No wonder she tried to hide it."
Ellie gaped at the scroll—when had the piece she'd penned so carefully been defaced? Beside her, Sir Whitmore stood rooted to the spot, stunned into silence.
Annabelle let out a theatrical sigh. "Ellie, how could you be so careless? Even if you didn't want to spend money, Grandpa deserves better than a botched gift like this!"
One of the guests sneered, "Miss Bennett was right—Elena Bennett, how could you present something like this? Do you think Sir Whitmore's birthday is some casual affair you can treat so lightly?"
Mocking laughter rippled through the room, rising like a tide that threatened to swallow Elena whole.
Sir Whitmore's expression remained kindly as he called her by the childhood nickname, "Ellie, tell Grandpa—did you write this calligraphy yourself?"
Elena gave a quick nod and murmured, "I'm sorry, Grandpa, it must look ridiculous to you."
Sir Whitmore traced the bold strokes with obvious appreciation. "The brushwork is strong—no one would guess a young woman wrote it. Only, here in the center..."
Elena's mind raced, but she owned the mistake with poise. "Grandpa, a little water must have splashed and blurred that section. I'd like to give you a small surprise—could we fetch some paints and brushes?"
Sir Whitmore's eyes lit up; he immediately had the servants bring over a full set of paints and fresh brushes.
Elena unfurled the canvas on the table and, entirely at ease, began working over the blurred spot in the Hundred Longevity Characters Scroll.
Within minutes, two lifelike immortal cranes emerged from her brushstrokes, seeming almost ready to lift off the paper.
A low, collective gasp spread through the onlookers.
Someone in the crowd whispered, "Fake heiress or not, the eldest Bennett girl is truly gifted—her calligraphy is gorgeous, and now her painting looks almost alive!"
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 59. Continue reading Chapter 60 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.