Billionaire’s Reborn Baby Chapter 67


    Chapter 67 An Oscar-Winning Actress


    Ferne looked at the unfurled paintings on the table. He had to say that these were pretty good ones.


    The artistic conception was fairly clean, pure and peaceful. At the corner of it lied a mini signature: Britt.


    Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    “Who’s the painter?” Ferne asked casually.


    Emily pointed at Harold and said, “Him.”


    Harold, “….”


    Ferne nodded. Now he knew what had happened. He nced at Harold in pity, like he was saying “It’s


    really tough to work for someone else. So pathetic”.


    Harold red back. His expression says for him, “I don’t need your sympathy.”


    Ferne, however, was mistaken. What he read from Harold’s gaze was “Yes, yes, after all she pays”.


    Immediately, he turned his sympathetic gaze to Emily. “Why don’t you keep the card Armando gave


    youst time? The money is enough for you to live the rest of your lifefortably.”


    “I feel at ease spending my own money.” Emily looked at the painting on the table quietly.


    “….”


    Emily must not be mocking them, who still relied on their family, right?


    “But I still want the fifty grand.” Emily said righteously, “Since you offer the ce to hang up my


    painting, then we’ll take the fifty grand off from your 10 percent.”


    “….” This was settled? Did he agree? Emily, you were such a “negotiator”!


    Before Emily left, she handed a note to Ferne, “My card number.”


    Ferne, “….”


    Why was she so confident?


    After that, a waiter came to clean up the table and asked Ferne, “Mr. Ferne, where should we put these


    paintings?”


    Ferne took out a cigarette as he walked out and waved his hand, “Hang them up.”


    “Where?” The waiter asked.


    “The most luxurious rooms. One in each room.”


    “Alright.”


    Having walked around, Ferne went back to the hall, and the waiter came to fawn on him. “Mr. Ferne,


    you are so thoughtful. There are exactly eleven rooms.”


    “….” It was not your boss who was thoughtful, but Emily.


    If anyone dared to say again that Emily was a retard, he would definitely cut off the guy’s head! With


    her intelligence, damn, he would for sure chase after her if he wasn’t married.


    And more importantly, she was so pretty. No, no, stop it.


    Emily turned to look back when she walked out of the hotel. Harold followed her gaze and only saw an


    empty corridor. ‘Could it be that seeing Mr. Vincent’s buddy reminds Miss Emily of him?’ Harold


    thought.


    Having pondered for a moment, he started, “Mr. Vincent is abroad for a meeting.”


    Emily nced at him, befuddled, “I’m just estimating how many paintings you can hang up in such a


    corridor.”


    Harold, “….”


    They took a taxi and left. Having worn the mask for a bit too long, Emily felt a little hot, so she just took


    it off and yed with the cap in her hand. She studied the driver casually until he looked at the rearview


    mirror and asked friendly, “What’s wrong?”


    “Nothing.” It was a little strange. This driver was apparently not one of Vincent’s bodyguards, but


    somehow, she still had the feeling that Vincent sent him.


    Kamron just walked out from the back door and was about to light a cigarette when he inadvertently


    nced at the taxi in front of him. He happened to see Emily leaning against the window.


    He didn’te back to his senses until the taxi had driven away. Then he rushed out and chased after


    it, “You damn girl, stop!”


    Harold heard the noise and saw Kamron through the rearview mirror. He whispered to Emily, “Miss


    Emily, you don’t have to look back. It’s the guy you … smashed and kicked.”


    “Oh.” Emily nced at the rearview mirror and said in a calm voice, “It looks like he’s recovered.”


    Harold, “….”


    He quietly mped his legs.


    Suddenly, the detective called and said, “The rat is out.”


    “Where to?” Harold asked.


    The detective lowered his voice. “I don’t know. It’s only that woman and she just came out. The driver


    drove a Bentley to pick her up. Alright, I gotta go. I’ll send you the location when I get there.”


    “Is there anyone following?” Emily leaned over and asked softly.


    Harold put the phone by her ear, and the detective said, “I’ve been following her for half a month, and I


    haven’t seen anyone.”


    As soon as Harold hung up the call, Emily said to the driver, “Stop here. Thank you.”


    It was only a less-than-four-minute drive. So Emily paid the starting price and hurriedly took another


    taxi. Before she could sit tight, she blurted out, “Go to the art gallery.”


    Not long after they were gone, Kamron brought a group of people and blocked the former taxi. As soon


    as he got out of his car, he saw that the back seat was empty. Kamron kicked the tire angrily, “Damn it!”


    The taxi driver had seen much of life and just sat there, fearless. Kamron walked over and knocked on


    the window. “Tell me, where’s the girl who just sat in your car? Where did she go?”


    The driver simply pointed at the opposite direction, “Over there.”


    Kamron gritted his teeth and led his people to rush towards that direction, “Get her!”


    “Yes!”


    He had made up his mind! And he was determined to catch this damn girl!


    In the art gallery, Emily studied every single painting. There werendscape paintings, portraits, and


    various abstract paintings. The proportion of cold and warm colors was as exact as had been


    measured. Every painting looked just like a perfect mold, or a soulless replica. So when she finished


    thest one, she turned away her gaze, somewhat disappointed.


    “Miss Emily, I’ve secretly photographed them all. I’ll develop the negatives when we get home, so you


    can enjoy them in leisure,” Harold said quietly.


    Emily, “…”


    “What’s wrong?” Harold had learned to read Emily’s eyes. For example, at this moment, her eyes were


    telling that she disliked the paintings. He did not know how to paint, so when he saw that Emily had


    stared at the paintings for a long time, he thought that she liked them.


    “Just killing time.” Emily walked out of the art gallery and the sun shone on her face, making her ivory-


    white visage to glow like a piece of porcin. “In the future, only my paintings will be worth taking


    pictures.”


    Harold looked at her in a daze. The teenage girl’s words did not make him feel that she was arrogant or


    conceit. On the contrary, her aura was so clean and pure that people would uncontrobly believe that


    her words woulde true in time.


    The detective sent the location to them. It was Reverie Teahouse.


    They immediately took a taxi and rushed over. Although the name was a casual one, the teahouse was


    not small. It had three and a half floors. On top of the building was a small balcony with a parasol to


    block ultraviolet rays. There also were a round wooden table and a set of chairs. Not knowing how, 19


    bamboos were nted around. Under the bamboos were a circle of hydrangea flowers, colorful and


    bright. And the bluestone floor tiles were ced fair and square. All these,bined with the


    melodious stream, were so beautiful.


    A waiter made the tea and left, leaving only the guest there.


    When Emily and Harold arrived, they immediately noticed Christy sitting on the balcony. She wore an


    antique champagne cheongsam, with her long hair curled up and a string of prayer beads on her wrist.


    She looked so extraordinary but untainted, like a youngdy from a wealthy family, who was tired of the


    secr world and lived in seclusion here.


    “Do you have reservations?” An attendant in a cyan robe asked with a smile.


    “Yes.” Emily pointed upstairs calmly. “We have an appointment with Miss Christy. She’s already here,


    right?”


    Harold, “….”


    If Emily was an actress, she could definitely win an Oscar. What a pity!