His Wife Calls The Shots
Chapter 1233: Mr. Foster, Miss Tang Doesn’t Need My Help At All_1

Chapter 1233: Chapter 1233: Mr. Foster, Miss Tang Doesn’t Need My Help At All_1

Chapter 1233

It is the only public listed company in Anstolas that has risen in a short term without relying on any official relationships. It attracted attention and respect primarily by its distinct characteristic of ancient martial arts.

He had heard about it before but hadn’t paid much attention, nor was he aware that Chloe Collins was the CEO behind the scenes.

Chloe Collins played with the Peace Dove and softly said, "I established this when I was still part of the Dark Alliance. Initially, it was just a fun project with members like Heijii and others. But as more people joined, and Dean Collins needed a company to realize his ambitions, I decided to scale it up."

The Peace Dove flew to Alexander Foster and landed on his hand.

But his eyes were only on her, indulging in her voice, her story sharing: "What happened next?"

She narrated slowly without deliberately holding anything back.

Alexander Foster quietly listened, deriving a sense of happiness and enjoyment from her narration.

After they returned to their residence, they had some late-night snacks before going to their respective rooms for rest.

After bidding each other goodnight, they both began to engage in their personal matters.

One stood by the window making a phone call, while the other reached for drawing paper and tools, preparing to paint.

Alexander Foster called the most renowned painter, intending to guide Chloe Collins.

With a hesitant voice, the painter responded, "Mr. Foster, I’m honored to work for you, but the exhibition is starting next week, and the deadline for submissions is in three days. It would be difficult to teach a novice to reach the exhibition standard in such a short time."

"She’s not a novice. She already has a foundation in drawing, and her learning ability is quick. You just teach."

"Alright, I’ll give it a try. But, the competition is fierce for this international exhibition, I hope you don’t have high expectations, Mr. Foster."

After ending the call, Alexander Foster didn’t go to see Chloe Collins immediately. He planned to discuss it with her the next day, allowing her to rest for the time being.

However, he was unaware that while he was on the call, Chloe Collins’ painting had started to take shape.

She had only taken one glance at the original picture before setting her phone aside.

As the sun began to rise and the morning light shone on the table, a finished painting sat there. Chloe Collins had already left to rest a half-hour ago and was sound asleep at this time.

An hour later, Alexander Foster walked in, intending to have the hired teacher wait in the study room. However, his attention immediately fell on the painting lying on the table.

The female teacher who followed him reacted faster. She sped up her steps towards the painting, leaning in closer to inspect it.

"This was just finished, wasn’t it?"

Alexander Foster responded, "It should be."

She stayed up all night.

The teacher looked for a while before turning to him, "Mr. Foster, Miss Collins doesn’t need my help at all. This painting could absolutely win a prize! Her use of color and the originality of her concept are amazing. Rest assured, you have nothing to worry about! By the way, has she named the painting?"

"She is resting now."

The teacher nodded, "We can ask her when she wakes up."

Then, she lowered her head to admire the painting once more, her eyes gleamed with unhidden admiration.

Alexander Foster walked up to the table and began to appreciate the painting.

It was an oil painting, where light and color had been perfectly fused to capture the transitory beauty of nature. The painting depicted the towering mountains, a sunset of crimson hanging between two peaks, and the twilight illuminating the river’s surface. Cramped boats were on the river, while people hustled on the shores, children and dogs played, and smoke billowed from the rural houses. The colors of the river deepened as it flowed east, only to realize suddenly that it was just the flow of a woman’s long hair, connecting the river and supporting the entire vibrant world.

Only the side profile of the woman was painted, up to her neck. Her eyes were closed, the expression peaceful. From her headwear and bronze skin tone, one could identify her as a deity from mythology. Although her eyes were closed, the impression she gave was not of gloom but of sanctity and dignity.