The Billionaire And His Son Want Me Back (Paisley) novel Chapter 38

When Grayson climbed up to the attic, he was surprised to find it transformed into an art studio. Paintings were everywhere—on the walls, the floor, even stuffed into cabinets. The sheer beauty of the artwork left him stunned and rooted to the spot as he took it all in.

"What are you doing here?" Serena's voice snapped him out of his daze. He turned to see the tiny figure with crossed arms looking suspiciously at him from behind.

"Who painted these?" Grayson asked, gesturing at the paintings.

Serena gave him a look, her tone sharp. "My mom did. Why?"

Grayson froze for a second, his expression shifting to one of disbelief. Then he frowned and scoffed, "She? Seriously?"

He couldn't wrap his head around it. 'No way that's true,' he thought. 'I've never seen her pick up a paintbrush.'

"Of course she does," Serena shot back, her chin tilting up in defiance. She pointed around the room with a small sweep of her arm and explained, "All of them are my mom's work. She's amazing. Loads of people want to buy her pieces."

But Paisley never sold her paintings. She only gave them away.

Grayson's mind was spinning with thoughts. 'Could all this really be that woman's work? She's just a housewife, someone who cooked and nagged me. Even Grandma and Auntie Kayla paint her as some clueless small-town nobody. How could she be capable of this?'

Though Grayson was overwhelmed by the scene in front of him, he still refused to admit what he saw.

"I don't buy it," he said, his tone defiant. He had never seen Paisley paint, and he only believed what he had seen.

Serena's face flushed with anger. She was desperate to prove him wrong. "Why don't you believe me? I'm telling the truth. All of these are Mom's work!" She pointed toward a corner of the room and added, "Look, those are all portraits of me."

Grayson followed her gesture and saw a section full of paintings of a little girl at different ages: a newborn with closed eyes, a baby learning to crawl, a toddler with a toothy grin, and a child laughing, crying, and blowing out birthday candles.

Each painting captured Serena at a different moment, preserving her life in vivid, loving detail.

"See? These are all me," Serena said, her voice rising as she tried to make him understand. "If my mom didn't paint them, how else would there be so many of my portraits?"

Grayson stared at the paintings, stunned into silence. Without thinking, he blurted out, "What about mine?"

Serena shook her head and replied, "You have nothing left. Stella tore them up."

The thought of her mom's hard work being destroyed made Serena's chest tighten with sadness.

"Just one?" Grayson asked, his voice quieter now.

"Yeah, just the one," Serena replied with a nod.

Paisley had placed Grayson's portrait in the best spot, where it could be seen upon entering the room. That was why Serena recognized Grayson the second she saw him. But sadly, it was gone now...

Paisley placed the dish on the dining table and turned to Serena. "What did I tell you about yelling?"

Serena scuffed her shoe against the floor and pouted, her voice small now. "Not to do it..."

"Were you wrong?"

Though feeling wronged, Serena nodded with tears in her eyes. "I was wrong, Mom."

"Good. Then go wash your hands and get ready for dinner," Paisley said, gently tapping Serena's head.

Serena bit her lip, still fuming but knowing better than to argue. With an angry pout, she stomped off toward the bathroom to wash her hands.

Paisley set the dishes on the table and turned to Grayson, who was still stubbornly standing there like a statue. She let out a soft sigh and said, "Go wash your hands. Dinner's ready."

Grayson stared at Paisley, his hands twisting nervously together.

His thoughts were racing. 'Did she hear me earlier? She must've heard me call her ugly, right? But why isn't she mad?

"Why doesn't she scold me? I was yelling too, and she should've asked me if I was wrong, like she used to. She didn't hold back on Serena, so why not me?'