Tiffany chuckled and slowly opened her eyes. "But that's not what I want," she said. If she wanted Philip's approval, she wouldn't need to resort to these tricks. A dozen paintings showcasing her talent would impress him more than anything else.

Zoe was puzzled. "Then what do you want?"

"Don't ask. Just sit back and enjoy the show," Tiffany said, narrowing her eyes and patting the grass beside her. "Come lie down."

"Okay!" Zoe replied.

Since Tiffany didn't explain, Zoe didn't press further. She supported Tiffany unconditionally, no matter what happened.

At that moment, in the spacious studio, the students peeked out excitedly upon seeing so many masters arriving. They quickly returned to their seats, assuming serious expressions.

Philip walked in, holding a painting. "Who painted this?" he asked.

It was a landscape painting, full of poetic charm and beautifully rendered. However, the students were all clueless and shook their heads in confusion.

"It wasn't me," one student said.

"Not me, either," another stated.

Seeing everyone shaking their heads, Philip was surprised. "This must have blown out the window. None of you painted this?"

Sandra, who had just returned from the restroom, overheard this. A thought quickly formed in her mind. She walked in confidently, smiling. "Sir, this is my painting. I was sitting over there, and it must have blown away when I went to the restroom."

Sandra pointed to her seat, conveniently close to the open window. It was entirely believable that the wind could have blown it away.

"Oh, it was you," Philip said, pleased, nodding repeatedly. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise! Wonderful! From today onwards, you're my student."

Being a renowned artist's student guaranteed a spot in the international competition. Regardless of whether Sandra would be recognized by other artists in the future, she had secured her place in the art community.

The students looked at each other, unable to hide their envy.

Sandra was thrilled. Originally, the process required several rounds of selection. However, thanks to the painting, Philip had directly accepted her as a student, exempting her from all subsequent tests. She couldn't help but feel she had made a wise decision. If she had waited for the painting's owner to show up, Philip wouldn't have accepted her.

She wasn't afraid of being discovered; she was naturally talented. Even if exposed, she could claim it was a false accusation, and she was confident people would believe her.

"Thank you, sir," Sandra said gently.

And so, for the rest of the afternoon, Philip dedicated his time to guiding Sandra, while the other artists offered pointers to the remaining students. After class, Philip and the others left, satisfied.

Sandra was once again surrounded by her classmates. The envious students showered her with praise.

"Sandra, you're amazing! You're the most talented student at our school. Compared to you, your cousin is just a disgrace. She has nothing going for her besides her family background," a young lady said.

A man remarked, "With your talent, winning an award in this international competition will be no problem!"

A girl echoed, "Yes, yes, don't forget about us then. And if Mr. Fremont is still accepting students, see if he can take us in too. We'll work hard."

As everyone flattered Sandra, she felt proud but remained outwardly humble.

"Oh, I was just lucky. But don't worry, I'll definitely put in a good word for you all with Mr. Fremont. If he agrees, we can be classmates again," Sandra said.

Hearing this, the others liked her even more.

The news spread quickly, and when Tiffany heard about it, she wasn't surprised and simply smiled. She probably knew Sandra better than anyone. Sandra was selfish, petty, and narrow-minded. Tiffany had sent such a golden opportunity Sandra's way; of course, Sandra would take it. Now that the fish had taken the bait, it was time to reel it in.

Hence, Tiffany took out a few more of her previous works and told Zoe to find a way to get them to Philip the following day.

Zoe didn't understand her plan. "Tiffany, Sandra has already taken your place, and you're sending out more paintings? Why?" she asked in confusion.

"For…" Tiffany's smile turned mischievous, "…for drowning her in them."

That night, Sandra dreamed sweetly. In her dream, she fantasized about winning the highest honor in the international competition, and from then on, no one in Lovell City would ever look down on her again. Also, Kenneth confessed his feelings for her and wanted to marry her.

When Sandra woke up, she was in an exceptionally good mood. But she was called over by Philip as soon as she finished breakfast.

"Sir, are you looking for me?" Sandra asked.

She walked into the studio the school had specially prepared for the famous artists. It was clean, spacious, and bright. Philip was studying something on the table, his back to her. When he heard her, he hurriedly called out, "Come over here. This painting is in the same style as your landscape painting from yesterday, but looking at the paper, it seems quite old, right?"

Sandra's smile froze. She looked down to see a painting of a rustic village scene on the table—smoke curling from chimneys, white clouds, and birds, all depicted in a leisurely style. It was clearly from the same person who had painted the landscape painting from the day before.

Seeing her stunned, Philip teased with a smile, "What's the matter? You don't remember your own work?"

Sandra replied, embarrassed, "I painted this a year ago. I remember some classmates liked my paintings, so I gave away several. I didn't expect someone to bring it out now." She said this preemptively, paving the way for herself. If the real artist came forward later, she could use this excuse to turn the situation in her favor.

Philip nodded, a gratified look in his eyes. "You're the student with the most potential I've ever seen. You have a bright future ahead of you, and I have high hopes."

"Thank you, sir," Sandra said happily.

"Now, go and prepare for next month's competition. If you have any questions, come to me," Philip added. "By the way, you're very good at oil painting. That's your strong suit. Compete on this theme. I believe you won't let me down."

Sandra opened her mouth to speak, but swallowed her words. Of all the styles, oil painting was her weakest. But she couldn't admit that. She had to push through, no matter what.

After leaving Philip's studio, Sandra returned to the dorm in a troubled state, only to find Tiffany doing something unknown in the room. Out of curiosity, Sandra quietly went upstairs and peeked through the slightly open door. There she saw Tiffany, her back to the door, seriously working on a painting on the balcony. The artwork on the paper was an exquisite oil painting.

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