Honey, You're a Billionaire by Chandler Solar

Alan York was Regalia's most renowned calligrapher. His achievements in the field were unparalleled, and the few works he left behind before his passing were invaluable masterpieces. Nobody had expected Lizzie, the lady of the Finch family, to be Alan's student. After all, Alan never just took on any student. Only those with true talent could earn his mentorship.

Upon hearing this revelation, the guests regarded Lizzie with newfound admiration. After all, she was still the lady of the Finch family, and despite the buzz around Rose, who was the daughter of the Lerain Group's Xanth family, Lizzie's importance couldn't be entirely overlooked.

The Finch family still held significant weight, and everyone present knew when to show the appropriate deference.

It was evident that Eleanor had intentionally brought up Lizzie's calligraphy skills, and the guests looked forward to witnessing them.

"Who could have guessed that Mrs. Finch was Alan's student? Her calligraphy must be exquisite!" one guest exclaimed.

"Indeed. Who knows? We might even be fortunate enough to witness a masterpiece tonight," another added eagerly.

All eyes turned toward Lizzie, eager to see her demonstrate her skills. Eleanor was particularly pleased with how her plans were coming together perfectly.

Naturally, Lizzie knew exactly what Eleanor was doing, and she couldn't afford to let Eleanor's intentions fall flat in front of so many people.

"Mom, should I give a demonstration?" Lizzie asked, adopting an air of modesty.

"Yes, of course! Let's see your skills," Eleanor replied, her face glowing with satisfaction.

Upon hearing Eleanor's subtle cue, the helpers swiftly brought out stop-quality brushes, ink, paper, and an expansive desk. Their efficiency was a testament to the Finch family's influence.

The orchestrated nature of this calligraphy display was evident, and the guests couldn't help but wonder who Eleanor intended to impress.

Their gazes shifted toward one figure in unison. Eleanor's focus on currying favor with the distinguished figure from the Lerain Group couldn't have been more obvious.

The gathering crowd who harbored similar intentions took mental notes, while others discreetly messaged their assistants to acquire calligraphy masterpieces as potential gifts.

Rose also noted Eleanor's favoritism toward Elijah. Standing beside him, she commented, "You like calligraphy? What a coincidence. My mother does too." In Rose's childhood memories, her mother's study was always filled with the scent of ink, brushes, and paper.

Her mother's calligraphy was breathtaking. It was an elegant, artistic expression that left a lasting impression on anyone who saw it.

Elijah seemed lost in his own thoughts too, perhaps recalling the woman he had loved so deeply. His eyes softened with a rare tenderness.

"She loved it, so I learned to love it too." Back then, Elijah's life had been marked by bloodshed and violence, and his constant companions were the weapons of war. It was Celeste's influence that had drawn him to the gentle arts. Rose was taken aback by his response, turning to look at her father in awe. A smile slowly spread across her face.

"How wonderful." For so long, she had been ignored and emotionally neglected by Jamie. He had never shown any affection for her mother, and because of that, she had never questioned whether she was truly his daughter. Rose had simply accepted that she wasn't the product of a loving union between her parents.

But now, standing beside Elijah, she could feel the depth of his love for her mother. It erased any doubts she had ever harbored about her place in their lives.

"I am a product of love," she thought.

Elijah gazed at her, his eyes filled with affection. "What's wonderful?" "Finding my father," Rose answered with a radiant smile. However, a crease formed on her brow as her expression turned pensive. "But I fear I may have caused you trouble." She was referring to Eleanor and why she had been invited to the manor that day under the guise of viewing an evening gown. Rose would have to be blind if she hadn't realized the true motive behind this invitation by now. Lately, both Elijah and Clover had been spoiling her, cherishing every moment they could spend together If they had known she would be at the Finch Manor that day, they certainly would have calong.

And that was precisely what Eleanor wanted.

Rose couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Eleanor now had the perfect opportunity to curry favor with Elijah, and the stakes for what she sought in return would only grow larger.

Elijah understood exactly what Rose was thinking. As for Eleanor's ambitions, he didn't mind. His priority was simply spending twith his daughter. Gently patting Rose's hand, he reassured her, "Don't worry, it's no trouble at all." Meanwhile, Eleanor wasn't pleased with the father and daughter's private conversation. "This won't do," she thought. She needed Elijah's attention to shift to Lizzie's calligraphy demonstration.

"Lizz, are you ready? Do give it your best!" Eleanor's voice rose, drawing Rose and Elijah's attention. They exchanged glances before turning to look at Lizzie, who was poised at the writing desk, brush in hand. Lizzie's artistic upbringing was evident in her graceful posture, making her the embodiment of elegance and poise. Her slender form and focused expression evoked an ethereal, otherworldly beauty as she leaned over the inkstone. She briefly glanced up, acknowledging Eleanor with a nod, but as she lowered her gaze back to the paper, her eyes caught sight of someone at the crowd's edge. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment. Carl quickly masked the momentary yearning in his gaze before vanishing into the sea of people.

Everyone's attention was now focused on Lizzie. This was the perfect moment. Within the crowd, Lizzie's brushstrokes danced, leaving an elegant trail of ink on the paper. Her calligraphy was both graceful and powerful. As she wrote, someone recited the words emerging on the page.

"In the year 353 AD, during the early days of spring... We convened at the Blooming Pavilion, nestled in the tranquil shadows of Mount Havenridge..." "Wait... This is from the Lindisfarne Gospels! How remarkable!" "Mrs. Finch is writing from the Lindisfarne Gospels!" As soon as Elijah heard the first line, a glint of recognition flashed in his eyes. Standing beside Rose, Clover's expression shifted visibly, a frown creasing his features.

He couldn't help but wonder how they knew Elijah was searching for the Lindisfarne Gospels.

He turned his gaze back to Lizzie's calligraphy, and a hint of disdain flashed in his eyes. Her writing may have seemed remarkable to the untrained eye, but compared to the piece Elijah had treasured for years, it fell far short. Even against Elijah's own calligraphy, it was like comparing an amateur's scribbles to a masterpiece.

"How laughable," he thought, watching in silence as Lizzie continued her performance.

Lizzie was fully immersed in her work. She took pride in her skills, and even though N washing she knew that Eleanor was using her talent as stepping stone for something, bigger, her pride and vanity velhet compelled her to deliver a flawless performance.

She longed for the admiration of everyone in the room, but most m importantly, she yearned for the acknowledgment of the Xanth family's legendary figure. As she poured her heart into her work, the murmurs of admiration from the crowd grew louder.

"Mrs. Finch's calligraphy is exquisite. It's no wonder she was Alan's student!" "Indeed, her writing possesses the grace and elegance of a true master." "The Finch family has so many hidden talents. I wonder if this piece could be purchased. I'd gladly pay a handssum to add it to my collection!" Lizzie's heart swelled with pride as the comments reached her ears.

Despite being accustomed to constant flattery and admiration as Mrs. Finch, the compliments still gave her a small thrill, and that day, it was particularly satisfying.

She felt that perhaps it was because of Rose. Finally, at her own birthday banger of altention, banquet, Lizzie had becthe center of attention, successfully diverting everyone's gaze away from Rose. To Lizzie, this seemed to signify that she had emerged as the victor in the silent battle she had been waging.