Behind Closed Covers
Aceville Resort
"Oh my, it's Mrs. Young's work."
"Take a look at that detailed artwork."
Susan Moor whispered to her peers, loudly enough for others to hear, as they stared at the newly unveiled portrait in the midst of the crowd.
"Well said," Gia spoke with a smirk, her flawless face tilted slightly as she sat afar from them—that alone showed how loud Susan had been.
"Hey, but did you guys notice? Only if you're observant," Meg added.
"You'd see that her works always signify something pitiful—sorrowful abstracts."
"It's like she's trying to pass a message each time a portrait of hers is auctioned."
But she was harshly brushed off by Gia.
"Well, look who's talking. I never knew you were born with special powers," she snapped, shoving her roughly by the arm.
"Ow!" Meg flinched in pain, struggling to break free from Gia's grasp.
"This is going to be the last time you say something ill about my sister-in-law. Do you get that?" Gia yelled, pinching Meg's skin hard, making her wince even more.
"Fine, I get it—I get it," Meg pleaded painfully.
"That's enough, Gia," Susan Moor stepped in, clearly dissatisfied by the outburst.
"No matter the case, she had no right to treat Meg that way. Everyone is entitled to their opinion."
"How dare you make a fuss about it? What she said could actually be true."
"Eliza—please, that's enough already," Amy tried calming the enraged woman, who was visibly shaking with anger.
"Let the auction begin," a voice from the telecom system announced, cutting through the tense atmosphere.
"Come on now! Let's all take our seats," Aster Philip, a co-presenter, urged the guests.
The ceremony began. Bidders, friends, sponsors, and well-wishers all settled into their seats.
Gareth Young, a famous business tycoon and once-known bachelor, graced the occasion with his beautiful, petite wife locked in his arm. Standing beside her husband, who towered over her, she was often mistaken for even smaller than she was.
"Ha, ha—here they come."
"Such chemistry."
"I must say, they're a match made in heaven."
Olivia felt her head spinning from the endless gazes and deafening praises. None of it impressed her. A woman of her status should have been thrilled—speechless even—by the recognition and admiration, yet she felt none of it.
"Hon, put a smile on that face," Gareth whispered, pinching her slightly, wearing a pretentious smile.
Olivia quivered in fear, not missing the hidden warning in his tone. To the crowd, he appeared calm, gentle, and doting—but only she knew the man he was behind closed doors.
"This way, please," a soft voice interrupted. An usher guided them to the VIP seats.
"Thank you," Gareth said politely, adjusting his suit before pulling out a chair for Olivia.
Olivia muttered her thanks awkwardly. She could still feel the gazes on her—as though everyone was monitoring her every move, waiting to point out a flaw.
"You must always maintain a smile. Be discreet. Avoid making friends. Just blend in and flow with the crowd."
She remembered his warnings over and over again, clutching her purse tightly as if it were her only support.
Wider, she urged herself, stretching her lips into a smile that could easily be mistaken for beauty.
"Look at the camera. Don't forget to smile," Gareth's deep, coarse voice whispered gently into her ear.
His chestnut-yellow eyes shone brightly under the sun, his hazel hair styled into soft waves. For a moment, Olivia's heart fluttered.
"Gosh… he's a slayer—but a devil in disguise." She bit her lip regretfully.
The bidding began, with a spokesman introducing each piece created by the renowned artists present, along with their starting prices.
Gareth's smile froze the moment his eyes landed on his wife's artwork.
"Ha… what's this? Was she mocking him?" he scoffed inwardly.
Olivia pinched herself, trying to stay calm. She knew she was in trouble. The icy look in his eyes, the redness creeping into them, said everything.
(Imagination Shift)
"How dare you, you useless thing!" he roared, flipping the round table into chaos.
"Please, calm down! People are watching!" Olivia cried, shielding herself from the crashing furniture as she ran to a corner.
"Did I waste my money on a fool like you for this ridiculous painting?" he shouted, pulling out his belt and swinging it violently.
"I'll teach you a lesson—you'll learn the hard way!"
The crowd erupted into chaos.
"He's lost his mind!"
"He's insane!"
"I thought he was a gentleman!"
People scattered in fear.
Olivia crouched helplessly, hugging her knees, bracing herself for what was to come—
"Flip."
"Flip."
She blinked.
Gareth stood in front of her, snapping his fingers.
"A penny for your thoughts," he said, staring at her.
"Oh… so it was just my imagination," Olivia murmured, embarrassed, rubbing the tip of her nose. "I almost thought it was real."
"Olivia, dear, you look stunning tonight." Ingrid approached, exchanging cheek kisses with her.
Her mother-in-law—an advocate for women suffering abuse—smiled warmly.
"Sis-in-law, you were so lost just now, you didn't even notice us," Gia added sweetly, playing her role perfectly.
Here we go again.
Gia—the voice for abused women—yet blind to her brother's cruelty.
"Hey, stop teasing her."
"But, Mom—" Gia started, only to be cut off.
"It's enough," Gareth said firmly.
"Come, let's sit and listen to the bids."
"Tsk. You're truly a man of few words," Gia teased, sticking out her tongue playfully.
"So shameless. Act modest—look at my wife. Learn from her," Gareth scolded.
"Besides, Riley Fields and his family are here. Behave yourself."
"And so what? Who cares?" Gia snapped.
"You do," he shot back.
"Can you two stop? Enough of the bickering," their mother snapped sharply.