Skyscrapers and Starlight – The Dragon’s Daughter

By Lea von Löwenstein

Chapter 7: The Art of War

Part 1: The Curator’s Wrath

The Drake mansion’s grand foyer had become a battlefield of broken jade and shattered pretenses. Richard Drake stood among the precious fragments, his face transitioning through shades of purple as Elizabeth frantically gestured toward Sophia’s set.

“Richard, darling, be reasonable,” Elizabeth’s laugh was brittle. “These were the fakes. Sophia’s collection here is the authentic—”

“Authentic?” Richard’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You want to see authentic?”

He stalked toward Sophia’s displayed set, his expert eyes scanning each piece. His laugh started low, then built like an approaching storm.

“This?” He lifted one of Sophia’s vases. “This tourist trap trash?”

“Uncle Richard!” Sophia Blackwood stepped forward. “Daddy paid millions for—”

“Paid millions for GARBAGE!” The roar echoed off the gilt-framed masterpieces. “The glaze is machine-produced, the aging artificial, the maker’s mark…” He flipped the piece over, his disgust palpable. “Made in bloody GUANGZHOU LAST YEAR!”

The room collectively flinched.

“But the real set,” his voice cracked, turning back to the scattered shards of Alexandra’s gifts. “The Lost Emperor’s Collection… worth more than this entire mansion…”

“Now Richard,” Harrison tried, “surely you’re exagger—”

What happened next would be whispered about in art circles for years to come. Richard Drake, respected curator and usually dignified gentleman, swept Sophia’s entire “authentic” collection onto the marble floor with one fluid movement.

“THIS!” *CRASH* “IS!” *SMASH* “FACTORY!” *CRACK* “PRODUCED!” *SHATTER* “RUBBISH!”

Each word was punctuated by another piece meeting its violent end, Richard’s Oxford shoes grinding the fragments into dust.

In the stunned silence that followed, only Emma’s quiet giggle could be heard as she clutched her preserved piece closer.

“Now then,” Richard straightened his tie, breathing hard. “Would someone like to explain how these people,” he gestured to the pale-faced family, “just destroyed the most significant jade collection in existence?”

Part 2: The Curator’s Ecstasy

The Drake mansion’s tension shifted like quicksilver as Richard Drake turned to Emma, his expert hands trembling slightly.

“May I?” he whispered, gesturing to her preserved piece.

Emma glanced at Alexandra, who nodded with a small smile, before carefully handing over her jade treasure.

Richard cradled the piece like a newborn, producing a jeweller’s loupe from his pocket. His breathing became shallow as he examined the intricate details.

“Sweet merciful heaven,” he murmured, tracing the dragon motif. “The transparency… the natural inclusions… this is the Emperor’s personal tea cup.” His voice cracked. “I’ve only seen sketches in ancient scrolls.”

The family watched, uncomfortable silence growing as Richard’s examination became increasingly reverent.

“The imperial seal… perfectly preserved… and this shade of green…” He looked up at Alexandra, eyes glistening. “How did you possibly…”

“I thought the Drake family deserved something special,” she said softly.

“Special?” Richard laughed wetly. “This single piece belongs in the Forbidden City’s inner sanctum. And you brought a complete set…” His voice trailed off as his gaze caught something behind them.

The massive crate.

“Is that…” He straightened slowly, loupe dropping from suddenly nerveless fingers. “No. It couldn’t be…”

Alexandra’s smile widened. “Would you like to see Grandmother’s gift, Uncle Richard?”

He moved toward the crate like a man in a trance, peers through a gap in the wrapping.

The explosion was nuclear.

“SWEET JESUS, MARY, AND ALL THE SAINTS!” His roar of joy rattled the windows. “IT’S THE RED ROTHKO! THE LOST ONE! THE ONE THAT DISAPPEARED FROM THE IMPERIAL COLLECTION IN ’49!”

He spun around, face incandescent with pure artistic rapture. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA? THIS IS… THIS IS…”

Words failed him as he collapsed to his knees before the crate, happy tears streaming down his face like a river of pure joy.

Part 3: The Matriarch’s Verdict

The Drake mansion’s atmosphere crackled with shifting power dynamics as Eleanor Drake rose from her chair, her silver hair catching the chandelier light. She moved with regal grace through the sea of jade fragments, past her shell-shocked family, to where Richard still knelt in artistic rapture.

“Richard, dear,” her voice carried the weight of eight decades of authority, “compose yourself and tell me exactly what my new granddaughter-in-law has brought into my home.”

Richard struggled to his feet, dabbing his eyes with a silk handkerchief. “Eleanor… this Rothko… it’s the one. The one I’ve lectured about for thirty years. The masterpiece that vanished from the Imperial Collection during the revolution. And these jade pieces…” He gestured to the scattered fragments, his voice breaking again. “Were worth more than the combined annual GDP of several small nations.”

Elizabeth Drake swayed slightly. “But… but that’s impossible. She’s nobody. Just some consultant who—”

“Who owns the original Imperial Collection,” Richard cut in, his joy hardening to steel. “Who casually gifted us museum-quality artifacts that collectors would literally kill for. Who brought Eleanor a painting that the art world thought was lost forever.” He turned to Alexandra. “There’s only one person with access to these pieces.”

Eleanor Drake’s eyes narrowed, studying Alexandra with new intensity. “Indeed.”

Alexandra met the matriarch’s gaze steadily, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Well,” Eleanor finally said, her own smile spreading slowly, “it seems my grandson has married rather well after all.” She extended her hand to Alexandra. “Welcome to the family, Ms. Chen. Or should I say, Mrs. Drake?”

The room’s collective gasp was drowned out by Richard’s renewed sobbing over the Rothko.

“Thank you, Grandmother,” Alexandra replied softly, accepting the hand. “Though I’m afraid some of your children just destroyed about four billion dollars worth of jade.”

Eleanor’s grip tightened. “Did they now?” Her arctic gaze swept over her pale-faced offspring. “We’ll discuss that… extensively.”

Marcus, who’d been watching the scene unfold with growing amazement, finally found his voice. “Four… billion?”

Alexandra patted his cheek. “Give or take a dynasty or two, darling.”