Chapter 279
The jewelry woman–Mrs. Lancaster, according to her enormous nan tag arranged her face into what she probably thought was modesty. “Well, the competition s… varied. My Oliver barely takes printing seriously–three, maybe four hours of lessons weekly She sighed dramatically. “I keep telling him to practice fundamentals but he’d rather visit galleries. If he places today, I might finally sleep at night.
Another parent glanced toward the exhibition area. “Those three addable children have pretty creative pieces. Dark horses, maybe?
Mrs. Lancaster’s face pinched up like she’d tasted something souir. “This is about artistic merit, not a cuteness pageant. Pretty faces don’t make pretty paintings.”
Irene’s lips twitched at the thinly veiled insult. Adam, however, shot Mrs. Lancaster a look cold enough to flash–freeze hell.
An hour after judging ended, the audience hushed as the host returned.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our judges have reached their decisions.” He paused for drama. “Bronze goes to… Lucas Sterling, for “The Financial World Through a Child’s Eyes.““.
Whispers rippled through the crowd. Mrs. Lancaster’s smile froze in place.
“Silver goes to… Alex Sterling, for ‘Patterns of Thought.“”
Mrs. Lancaster’s program crumpled in her grip.
“And our gold winner… Lily Sterling, for ‘What Mozart Sounds Like‘!
The room went so quiet you could hear a pin drop before people slowly started clapping. Irene’s face remained neutral, but her tapping fingers betrayed her pride. Mrs. Lancaster looked like she’d swallowed a wasp.
“Should we collect our champions?” Irene asked, chest tight with unexpressed emotion.
“Wouldn’t miss their faces,” Adam replied, something soft in his eyes that made Irene’s heart stutter.
They’d barely made it halfway to the backstage area when they heard it–the unmistakable sound of entitlement in full meltdown.
“Get your supervisor NOW!” Mrs. Lancaster’s voice could have shattered glass. “This whole thing is rigged! My son attends Montgomery Art Academy–THE premier youth arts program five years running!”
Pushing through the crowd of onlookers, Irene found her kids backed against a wall, medals clutched in white–knuckled hands. Mrs. Lancaster loomed over them, face twisted ugly with rage.
“These CHILDREN?” she spat, gesturing wildly. “They can’t possibly understand composition! How did they sweep all three prizes? You little CHEATERS!”
Alex stood super straight in front of his siblings, calm but unyielding beyond his years. Lily clutched his shirt with tears pooling, while Lucas’s tiny fists clenched, ready to throw down despite being half the woman’s size.
“That’s enough.” Irene’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. She stepped between the woman and her kids while Adam positioned his wheelchair as a physical barrier, his knuckles bleached white against the armrests.
“This is an art exhibition, not a tantrum competition,” Irene said, voice dangerously even you better have more than hurt feelings to back them up.”
“If you’re throwing around accusations,
“My son is ACCOMPLISHED!” Mrs. Lancaster hissed. “Regional and state awards! This little exhibition should have been nothing!
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Chapter 279
You MUST have connectionsT
Without proof, you’re just heat rising in her voice.
sore loser throwing around accusations which, by the way, can cost you big in court, frene shot back.
Mrs. Lancaster faltered but didn’t retreat. The crowd had swelled, plines discreetly recording the drama.
“Montgomery!” Mrs. Lancaster suddenly shouted, spotting a distinguished man hovering at the edge. Mr. Montgomery, come explain this travesty! This is THE renowned art educator who personally tras my son!”
The man approached reluctantly, wincing at the spectacle.
“Mr. Montgomery?” Adam didn’t raise his voice, but everyone stopped to listen. “I must be behind the times. Never heard of him.”
He continued, casual as discussing weather. “Haven Enterprise dropped five million on the Children’s Arts Foundation last year. I think I know who’s actually supporting arts education in this city.
Mrs. Lancaster’s face drained of color as realization hit. “Oh my God she whispered to her neighbor. “That’s Adam Haven…”
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