Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1460 October Art Museum (Second Update)

She had never seen such a proud, beautiful woman, exuding a godlike majesty.

Although the two witches already possessed exceptional charisma and had witnessed numerous bizarre and strange missions, this woman possessed an innate divinity that constantly stung anyone who tried to approach her, unleashing thunder and flashes of light in their nervous systems, almost triggering epilepsy on a real level. However, upon seeing Bayonetta and Jeanne, the woman immediately withdrew her imposing aura. Even so, her tall figure, muscular arms, high cheekbones, and cascading blonde hair still drew attention. Laura Crawford reluctantly averted her gaze, only then noticing a woman with dark hair, also dressed in a white dress, standing beside the woman.

The woman looked somewhat haggard, and her loose clothing did little to conceal her protruding belly.

She was Vanessa, the owner of this art exhibition. However, compared to the dazzling array of postmodern paintings, many people were drawn to the radiant blonde woman and the two witches who were as beautiful as daffodils. Only a simple sketch depicting the blonde woman managed to divert some visitors' attention. "I knew I shouldn't have invited you and your friends, Minerva," Laura Crawford, a VIP visitor, said, following the witches as they approached the blonde woman. The exhibition owner, holding a tall glass of juice, half-jokingly remarked, "Every time you attend my exhibition, my sales figures plummet."

"Perhaps you should change your painting style, abandon postmodernism. Perhaps you should find the world's best salesperson, someone who can get people to give anything just to smile and give their approval." Minerva's glass was filled with pink champagne. She wore few adornments; the only exquisite things were her gold earrings and the gold body chain she wore over her white long dress. "We happen to know someone like that, don't we? It's a pity he's not here. I don't want you to resent him because of this. He's already raised funds for your life in London. At least he's ensuring your child can live with a clear conscience, instead of dying at the hands of other children who have also lost their fathers."

Minerva's response was harsh, as she had never treated Vanessa as an equal, especially after Vanessa married a mob boss and, ignoring advice, became deeply entangled in the relationship, potentially facing FBI surveillance. Minerva lost faith in the woman. Vanessa couldn't use a single penny of Wilson Fisk's money unless she wanted to have a child in prison.

After Wilson Fisk purchased several paintings from the gallery, the FBI and the IRS had reason to suspect Vanessa of involvement in illegal money laundering and transactions. Even though the money had already been laundered at the casino, everyone knew that Vanessa was Wilson Fisk's weakness, and it didn't matter whether the money was clean or not.

To secure the space and amenities for Vanessa in the gallery, theater, and club, including chefs, champagne suppliers, bartenders, waiters, cleaners, security guards, and food suppliers, Minerva paid a substantial sum to rent the hourly-rate museum and tasked Vanessa with developing menus, event schedules, and other miscellaneous tasks. Minerva also invited numerous renowned artists to London for exhibitions to prevent Vanessa from falling into financial ruin and starving to death in her rented apartment. She did all this because Vanessa's foolishness shouldn't be the punishment her unborn child deserved, and partly because someone understood how difficult it was for a child without parents to survive.

Minerva did not continue speaking, but looked at Bayonetta and Joan of Arc.

Although she was the one who truly extended the invitation, she showed no excitement or other emotion upon meeting the witch. Their relationship, complicated and uncontrollable by their shared man, was like that of herons vying for the same prey. "I recently mentioned the 'St. Teresa's Fanaticism' statue you displayed in the manor's entrance hall, but unfortunately, it's not for sale, and I don't think you'd be willing to part with that statue full of love… I think you are Duchess Laura Crawford, whom my lovely adopted son mentioned. Clearly, the tabloids' descriptions of you are purely sensationalist slander. If you don't mind, I think we can have a proper chat in the courtyard. Vanessa?"

Laura Crawford's mother, Emilia, was an exceptionally talented postmodern painter, and her former works filled the studio at Crawford Estate. Minerva introduced Laura to Vanessa, mentioning Laura Crawford's past adventures and then Emilia Crawford. As an artist who had frequently appeared in magazines, Vanessa naturally knew her and had even had contact with her; after all, this circle wasn't large, and academic art professors didn't necessarily have the ability to hold exhibitions. Vanessa also met Minerva there, although at that time Minerva was one of Emilia de Monet's investors. After Emilia de Monet became Emilia Crawford, Minerva also purchased several paintings to fill his gallery for her exhibitions.

Laura Crawford never expected that she would uncover her mother's past here.

“I was fortunate enough to study in your mother’s Paris studio, Ms. Crawford, who was my mentor in postmodern art. To this day, I still think back to that time; it was truly a wonderful time.” Vanessa smiled at the somewhat flustered Laura Crawford, her tired face full of relief, as if she were seeing Emilia de Monet many years ago, which made her feel young again—look at what she has become now. She could no longer afford the penthouse in Manhattan and the long-term rental to the museum, the evening gowns she wore were styles she had worn many times before, her makeup artist and stylist were all cheap substitutes, and her relatives in Italy all refused to contact her.

Although she was just as poor in the past, she could still easily and happily stroll through the streets of Paris, buying equally inexpensive yet beautiful clothes and jewelry. Laughter seemed to flow through her veins, infusing art and wisdom into every cell of her body. She still remembers the days when she wore a red beret, a cigarette dangling from her lips, basking in the sun by the river, waiting for the scene that would appear at dusk, and then sketching it on her drawing paper. She misses Paris, even though the reality of Paris was certainly not that good, but in her memories, it represents her most precious time.

“Don’t worry, you’ve already helped me a lot, I can handle it myself now.” She winked quickly at Minerva. “Not everyone here is here for the art exhibition. Look at that, Jane Foster… She looks like a lost lamb, clearly she doesn’t know anything about these works of art. A Nobel laureate in physics needs someone to guide her, and I don’t think anyone but me could do that. But why would a researcher be here?”

"Because of my invitation," Minerva said. "You can invite her to the courtyard to see us; I also have something to say to her."

(End of this chapter)