?Chapter 792:

    Whatever it took, she wasn’t about to let this chance slip away. Surrounded by artists and buyers, she was determined to drag Maia’s name through the mud.

    Only by ruining Maia’s reputation could Mariana finally feel at ease.

    Her tirade didn’t just target Maia and Alice; it leveled heavy usations, iming they had stolen the work of others. The charges struck a nerve with nearby artists, who erupted furiously.

    “Stealing ideas, huh? Get lost! You don’t belong here!”

    Yet through it all, Maia’s expression remained calm. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face.

    She began to move, one step at a time, heading straight toward the artwork titled…

    With dozens of eyes fixed on her, she stopped. Slowly, her hand lifted as she pointed toward the lower right corner of the canvas.

    There, now that the painting had rotated to reveal the phoenix, the name inscribed was Maia.

    She turned to Grover, her voice steady and clear.

    “Weren’t you trying to find the artist Matias Watts?” she asked.

    “That’s me. I am Matias Watts.”

    The silence was almost unbearable.

    Maia’s deration hit like a thunderp, stunning everyone into a hushed stupor.

    It felt as though time itself had frozen, the air thick with disbelief.

    After a few tense seconds, someone finally found their voice, shaky and uncertain.

    “Did I hear her correctly? Did she just im to be Matias Watts?”

    “This can’t be real! If she’s truly Matias — the mastermind behind Rebirth — then she’s no ordinary artist. She deserves respect, not rejection.”

    “That’s right! Even the sponsors don’t have the authority to drive out someone of such caliber. If this exhibition stands for anything, it should be artistic freedom and authenticity.”

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    The room slowly buzzed back to life as whispers spread like ripples through water.

    Kiley’s brows furrowed, her face a mix of doubt and disbelief. Could the woman standing before them — Maia — truly be Matias? Or was this just a ploy? After all, a simple Maia signed on the painting wasn’t irrefutable proof.

    Raegan’s jaw hung open in astonishment, while Mariana scoffed.

    With a calcted smile, Mariana folded her arms and sauntered toward Maia, her eyes gleaming with ridicule, as though watching a desperate actress stumble across a stage.

    “Maia, has pretending be second nature to you? Just because the name ‘Maia’ appears on that painting, you think you can get away with this charade? A few design tricks picked up abroad and suddenly you believe you’re a jack of all trades?”

    She paused deliberately, her smirk sharpening as she pressed on.

    “Do you have any idea what it takes to create something of this depth? And you dare stand there, stone-faced, and im it as your own?”

    Her words sliced through the air, dripping with sarcasm. Mariana might have been forced to swallow her pride in fashion design, where she could never outshine Maia.

    But painting? That was sacred ground to her. A craft she had nurtured since she could first hold a brush. An art where she didn’t just endure — she excelled.

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