The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 678

He and his wife had only one daughter—Hilda—so over the years, they’d spoiled her a little. But that didn’t mean he was completely biased, or that he didn’t care about his own son’s well-being. They were both his children. How could he not love them both?

Citrine went on, “Maybe Uncle Nigel chose to devote himself to painting as a way to cope, to redeem himself. People with autism often need special ways to express and process their emotions.”

She paused, then gently encouraged him, “Grandpa, I think you should try to understand Uncle Nigel. Maybe you see painting as a frivolous pursuit, but you might not realize—it’s like the air he breathes. He needs it to survive.”

Herschel had always scoffed at painting. Compared to the steady, respectable career of a doctor, painting seemed like a beggar’s trade to him. That’s why he’d been so adamant in opposing Nigel’s choice.

But after hearing what Citrine had to say, something shifted inside him.

For the first time, stubborn old Herschel started to question himself.

Citrine continued, “Uncle Nigel will definitely be at the Crestwood gallery exhibit next month. If you want to make peace with him, that might be your chance. You could go see him there.”

Herschel tucked that thought away, resolving not to let it slip his mind. He reached out and gently patted his granddaughter’s head, his voice thick with affection. “You really are my little treasure, Citrine. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be stuck in my old ways.”

Citrine looked at him earnestly. “Grandpa, if you just explain yourself, I know Uncle Nigel will understand.”

“I hope so.” After all these years, the rift between father and son felt too deep to mend, but he couldn’t help wishing for a second chance.

——

One month later.

Herschel arrived at the Crestwood Art Gallery, just as Citrine had told him. The halls were lined with paintings, each more intriguing than the last.

Once upon a time, Herschel would have written all this off as nonsense. But now, standing in the midst of these works, he found himself—for the first time—curious. He wanted to understand.