Chapter 452: Who Is the Murderer
As an outstanding exchange student from the Caelus Academy of Fine Arts in Vessaria, Sean Grant’s artistic skills were simply beyond comparison for most people.
What’s more, this young man’s paintings always carried an intense and unmistakable personal style.
In Sean Grant’s painting, the upper half was shrouded in a night mist as light as gauze; a small boat floated quietly, the moonlight shining on the sea’s surface, sparkling like countless dazzling diamonds.
However, in the lower half of the painting, a tiger shark emerged from the depths, its teeth gleaming with an eerie coldness, thin traces of blood seeping from its maw, lurking menacingly in the water, as if ready to attack at any moment.
By rights, such a combination of styles would have come across as utterly disjointed, producing a bizarre, jarring sense of rupture.
But for some reason, beneath Sean Grant’s brush, everything became astonishingly harmonious, creating a one-of-a-kind world—no one could say these were two separate paintings.
...
When Cecilia Vaughn saw it, she immediately thought of that class assignment she’d once done—the Sunset Painting.
Her style leaned closer to the serene beauty of the upper half, but after Sean’s masterful transformation, it took on an element of dark, sinister energy.
At the time, Cecilia Vaughn thought Sean Grant only painted this way on occasion—she never expected she would once again witness the boy’s extraordinary skill tonight.
"Grant, you really are a genius—everyone says there’s only one Vincent van Gogh in this world, but I think you’re also that one-of-a-kind artist, Sean Grant. One day, you will be famous all over the world."
The fact that Dodge Skansen was willing to spend a full twenty million US Dollars to purchase Sean Grant’s painting made it clear that Sean had unlimited potential.
Even being compared to Van Gogh by Cecilia Vaughn, Sean Grant showed not a trace of happiness; he slowly set down his brush, gazing at Cecilia Vaughn with utmost seriousness.
"I’ve never thought of comparing myself to anyone."
Huh?
Cecilia Vaughn looked up in confusion, expecting Sean to be modest, but instead saw a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old boy, elegant and cool as water, his tone bursting with arrogance.
"Because they’re not worthy."
"..."
Cecilia Vaughn’s mouth twitched as she struggled for an answer to such brazen arrogance.
She’d intended to offer a few more compliments, but now found herself entirely at a loss for words.
Well, geniuses always have an air of pride ordinary people find hard to understand. That sort of arrogance is mostly innate, inscribed in the bones and blood.
...
Cecilia Vaughn was secretly amused, but suddenly, a shriek of abject terror came from downstairs.
"Oh my god! Something’s wrong! Someone’s dead! Help!"
Cecilia Vaughn blinked in a daze, almost doubting her own ears.
She glanced at Sean Grant in disbelief, a rather comical expression on her face.
"Not only are my eyes bad today, even my ears are going—I could have sworn I just heard someone shouting that there’s a dead person?"
She’d thought catching a glimpse of Katherine North earlier was strange enough. Now someone was shouting about a death?
Seriously, even if Cecilia Vaughn looked down on Fiona Vaughn, this was still a marriage alliance between the Law and Vaughn families. Security was top-notch, and every guest needed two invitations to get in.
Even the waiters had undergone rigorous background checks.
...
Cecilia Vaughn didn’t take it seriously at first, but the screams from downstairs grew even more chilling.
"Ahhh! Somebody, help!"
"Oh god, how could this happen? Where’s security? Where’s security? This is bad!"
It wasn’t just one person shouting below. Cecilia Vaughn’s expression became grave; she shot an urgent glance at Sean Grant.
"Something really seems to have happened, Grant. Let’s go take a look together."
In her whole life, besides the time she accidentally killed Young Master Trent, the son of Stellerton University’s former chairperson, Cecilia Vaughn had never been so close to a crime scene again.
...
The scene from three years ago flashed inexplicably through her mind. Cecilia Vaughn’s legs felt a little weak.
She forced herself to remain calm and was about to stand when she saw Sean Grant still leisurely packing up his art supplies.
"What are you dawdling for? Which is more important, your art supplies or human life?"
Cecilia Vaughn stared in shock as Sean moved unhurriedly, showing no signs of urgency. Staring at his handsome, indifferent face, she could only massage her forehead helplessly.
"Okay, I forgot you’re younger than me, you’ve just come of age. Maybe this kind of crime scene scares you too. Just stay here, don’t go anywhere."
...
Because Sean was about the same age as Evan Vaughn, Cecilia Vaughn instinctively slipped into a big sister’s mindset, taking care of Sean as a younger brother. She gave a couple of quick instructions, then ran off on her own.
Sean Grant stared at Cecilia Vaughn’s swift figure, and a meaningful smile slowly curled on his lips.
In the moonlight, his almost ethereally handsome face resembled that of Prince Apollo from Greek mythology—only less divinity, and more shadow.
...
Cecilia Vaughn hurried toward the scene of the commotion, only to find a large crowd already gathered in a circle. Many girls were covering their faces, crying, unable to bear the sight.
"It’s terrifying... her hair is so long, she looks like a drowned ghost... sob, I’m going to have nightmares tonight."
"God, poor Miss Fiona. Such a lovely wedding—a happy event turned into a funeral. How unlucky!"
"No kidding. When The Eldest Young Master Law interrupted the newlyweds’ vows, I already had a bad feeling... this marriage was full of bad omens."
"Who’s dead? Did anyone recognize her?"
...
Cecilia Vaughn’s heart tightened. She pushed through to the front and saw it was a woman’s corpse—her dress completely soaked, as if someone had just dragged her out of the sea.
And her long hair, thick as seaweed—on a living woman it might have been glamorous, but on a corpse, it only made her seem more ghastly and sinister.
Cecilia Vaughn stared at the dress on the corpse, her pupils contracting.
This is...
Someone else voiced the truth for her.
"Isn’t that a bridesmaid’s dress? Shit! Could that be Mayor Alden’s daughter—the Eldest Miss Alden?"
"No way, don’t scare me. The mayor only has one daughter... no, wait, he’s got an illegitimate son... Poor Mrs. Alden..."
"Hurry, flip her face over so we can see."
Most of the people crowding around were guests—none dared approach. They were both afraid and didn’t want the bad luck attached to them.
When Cecilia Vaughn recognized the bridesmaid’s dress, she felt thunderstruck. Gritting her teeth, she prepared to step forward and turn Chloe Alden’s face over.
But that’s when the security guards arrived.
"Miss Vaughn, don’t touch her. I’ll do it."
Cecilia Vaughn stepped back, teeth clenched, feeling cold all over. The security guard acted swiftly, turning the corpse’s face over in moments.
"..."
"Oh my god—it really is Chloe Alden!"
"At a wedding, for god’s sake, she didn’t jump herself, did she? I think someone murdered her—whoever did this is truly twisted!"