"Is this... targeting ?"
Anna knows that in recent years, especially after her aunt passed away,
the new managent at "Oil Painting" magazine has often felt dissatisfied with the nurous personal imprints belonging to the old era of the Ilyena family.
But such conflicts generally took place in secret, with everyone appearing amicable on the surface.
It’s the first ti sothing so openly targeting her has happened.
Anna took out her phone from the pocket of her gray lady’s suit and dialed a number in her contacts.
Long beeping sounds, no one answered.
She expressionlessly hung up and redialed... Until the third ti she dialed, the call finally went through.
"Chairman Brown, I’d like to schedule a eting... No, I’m not seeking your opinion. I’m notifying you to arrange a eting as a private shareholder. It’s my prerogative."
Ten minutes later, at the headquarters of "Oil Painting" magazine, in the Chairman’s office.
"Welco, my child. Tea? Coffee?"
Sir Brown is already seventy years old, but he looks quite spirited. He keeps a tuft of white goat-like beard on his chin, but his hair is finely dyed, showing no trace of gray.
He appears very amiable, resembling a kind old professor rather than a professional manager.
"Would you like so cherry preserves from the Philippines? Quite to my taste."
Sir Brown pushed a small silver fruit preserve box across the desk: "Apologies about the work credentials issue, I planned to visit Yilena Manor tomorrow to personally explain the magazine’s decision."
"Are you planning to fire ?"
Anna asked coldly.
"Of course not; who can fire a Miss Ilyena here?"
Sir Brown chuckled sowhat awkwardly.
As the current head of the magazine, he dislikes Anna’s influence within this magazine.
But he’s unwilling to fire the last heir of the Ilyena family.
That would be a huge scandal for both sides.
"We just need to have a necessary conversation. You know our magazine has encountered so trouble recently."
Sir Brown handed over so newspapers.
"Even though those dia reports are nonsense, we still must consider the negative impact they’ve caused."
Anna took the newspapers and magazines, flipping through them casually.
The first page was the headline news from "THE MOON" which she had seen before.
"Since those reports are nonsense, why bother with them... Besides, we’re not politicians, when did we need to care about reports from vulgar tabloids like ’Moonlight News’?"
Anna directly stared into Sir Brown’s eyes: "Is there anything I don’t know?"
"Since we’ve co to this point... to be honest, yes."
Sir Brown shrugged.
"I’ve received news that Derong Fan Doorn doesn’t want his na associated with... his words were ’monkey wielding a paintbrush,’ an online illustrator, appearing in the sa art criticism guide. He considers it an insult, and if we don’t cancel his account, he’ll contact lawyers to sue the magazine."
"Just revoke his ’Buyer’s Guide’ then. Does ’Oil Painting’ magazine need to respond to threats from a worthless old rogue who only draws empty lines of madn’s rants?" Anna stood firm without backing down.
"Child, before drawing conclusions, I suggest you take a look at this."
Sir Brown handed over a docunt’s fax.
Anna took the docunt, scanned two lines, and her face turned ice-cold.
The docunt was actually short.
Its content still targeted ’Oil Painting’ magazine, shocked that it had fallen to employing soone like her, a young girl without experience, who relied on her family na to beco an art critic, and allowed online comic illustrators—a small artist deed unpresentable in serious columns—to appear in the painter recomndation section.
The sender claid he believed "Oil Painting" magazine had lost its professionalism and hoped to withdraw from its buyer’s guide.
The signature behind it was not just Van Doorn’s alone.
In total, it included seventeen renowned painters headed by Van Doorn.
Van Doorn is well-connected in the art circle, many of these nas are Van Doorn’s close friends, and a few are guys who held grudges because their works were sarcastically criticized by Anna in past art reviews.
They’ve now seized the opportunity of public discussions to jump out and join forces.
Van Doorn might indeed be an old rogue, but his connections are undeniable.
He himself is far from being trivial, and with these seventeen nas, even the top managent of ’Oil Painting’ magazine feels troubled.
"This is a coup; they’re not really looking to quit ’Oil Painting’ magazine, just showing a demonstration. An art criticism institution compromising to artists, if it happens once, there’ll be a second ti."
Anna shook her head.
"And I stand by my point, Detective Cat is an excellent artist; her painting skills and artistry are enough to deserve a feature in ’Oil Painting’ magazine."
She was reluctant to concede: "Detective Cat..."
"Perhaps so, child."
Sir Brown’s tone grew impatient: "You still haven’t grasped what I’m saying, Anna. Detective Cat? Ha, maybe she’s worthy, maybe she’s not; that’s irrelevant. People can’t live forever in the art world; today’s discussion has nothing to do with art, but everything to do with reality."
"And the reality is, your actions have caused a public relations crisis for ’Oil Painting’ magazine."
"Considering the online public opinion, I’ve already instructed our editorial departnt to revoke the buyer’s recomndations of Detective Cat."
Sir Brown said in a polite but uncompromising tone.
He continued: "Moreover, I need you to write a formal apology letter to Mr. Fandorn to gain his forgiveness."
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