Chapter 390
In Marina’s eyes, Niamh had always seemed painfully average in every regard.
But this time was different.
“I don’t get it,” Karin whispered to Peter, confusion etched on her face. “Niamh’s hand is injured–why would she agree to a live restoration contest in front of so many experts?”
Peter stayed silent.
As the minutes ticked by, the hall grew increasingly quiet, the air thick with tension. It felt as if everyone in the room was holding their breath, absorbed by the delicate duel unfolding before them.
After exactly one hour, twenty–six minutes, and fifteen seconds, Marina set down her tools, having completed the restoration of the scepter. She glanced over at Niamh, who was still struggling–barely halfway done.
Marina allowed herself a faint, satisfied smile but said nothing more. In front of so many industry insiders, results spoke louder than words. Whether Niamh liked it or not, there would be no room for excuses.
Dragging a chair over, Marina sat down to rest. She glanced–casually, or so it seemed–at Jonathan.
His gaze was sharp, almost hawk–like, fixed on Niamh with a mixture of concern and disapproval.
Marina’s lips curled into a subtle, chilly smile.
Clearly, Jonathan also thought Niamh was out of her depth, pushing herself with that injury. No matter the outcome, she was bound to lose–she only had herself to blame for the humiliation.
Stifling a yawn, Marina settled back in her chair. At Niamh’s current pace, Marina thought dryly, she could take a nap and still wake up before the restoration was finished.
Even the staff from the Solmaris Museum were growing restless.
“Director,” one of them muttered, “Niamh’s hand is injured, and she’s so much slower than Marina… Shouldn’t we just declare Marina the winner?”
“Yeah, by the time she finishes, the result will be the same anyway–why not just-”
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Chapter
But both fell silent as Samuel shot them a warning look.
Everyone waited. The entire room seemed trapped in a slow, tedious limbo, Marina was so bored she nearly dozed off.
At last, three hours, fifty–seven minutes, and eighteen seconds later, Niamh finally finished restoring the scepter.
The long, grueling contest was over. Marina rose to her feet, straightening her back, ready to bask in her moment of triumph.
As the director of the Solmaris Museum, Samuel naturally served as the chief judge. Two others stood alongside him: Dalton, an expert in antique restoration, and Catherine, a master jeweler from Cartier.
The three of them approached Marina’s scepter first, examining it with painstaking
care.
“Impressive craftsmanship,” Dalton murmured.
“I never would have guessed Ms. Thornton could pull off such flawless stone setting at her age,” Catherine remarked, clearly impressed.
“The next generation really does outshine the last,” Samuel added with a chuckle.
“No kidding! With skill like this, Ms. Thornton could be a senior designer at any major jewelry house in the country.”
The judges‘ praise made Marina feel as if she were floating, giddy and lightheaded. Around her, guests began to whisper casting admiring glances her way.
Catching Jonathan’s eye, Marina gave him a bashful, triumphant smile.
He responded with a faint, polite smile of his own.
Just that small gesture was enough to set Marina’s heart racing.
Yes–she would prove her brilliance to Jonathan. She would take back, with her own hands, everything that was rightfully hers.
Next, Samuel, Dalton, and Catherine made their way to Niamh’s scepter. None of them said a word. Instead, they exchanged a series of loaded glances.
Marina knew what that meant.
Just seeing the judges‘ expressions, she was certain–Niamh was finished.
Samuel cleared his throat. “Now, I’ll announce the winner–the one who will be given the honor of restoring the antique scepter is…”
With a confident smile, Marina stepped forward.
