Chapter 38

Grayson stumbled into the attic, stunned. It was an explosion of art—paintings crammed everywhere, a riot of color and emotion. He stood mesmerized.

"What are you doing here?" Serena's sharp voice sliced through his awe. She stood arms crossed, small and suspicious, behind him.

"Who painted these?" Grayson asked, gesturing wildly.

"My mom," Serena snapped. "Why?"

Grayson stared, disbelief etched on his face. "She? Seriously?" He couldn't believe it. Paisley? The housewife, the nag?

"Of course," Serena retorted, chin lifted. "All of them. She's amazing! People want to buy them."

But Paisley never sold them. She gave them away. Grayson's mind reeled. Paisley? This was the woman Grandma and Aunt Kayla painted as a clueless nobody?

He refused to believe it. "I don't buy it," he scoffed.

Serena's face flushed. "Why not? Look!" She pointed to a corner overflowing with portraits of a little girl. A newborn, a crawling baby, a giggling toddler—each painting capturing Serena's life in vibrant detail.

"See? If Mom didn't paint them, how would there be so many?"

Grayson, speechless, blurted, "What about mine?"

Serena shook her head. "Stella tore it up." Her chest tightened with sadness.

"Just one?" Grayson’s voice was softer now.

"Just one," Serena confirmed. Paisley had given Grayson's portrait the place of honor, but it was gone. Grayson searched, but found no trace of himself.

His anger exploded. "Who cares about some stupid painting? They're ugly! All of them!" He stormed downstairs.

Serena intercepted him in the living room. "Take that back! My mom's paintings aren't ugly!" Her hands clenched into fists. Grayson was the worst. He was her brother? No way!

"They are! She's ugly, and her paintings are uglier!" Grayson yelled, tears stinging his eyes.

"That's not true! My mom's the most beautiful woman in the world!" Serena screamed back.

Paisley entered from the kitchen, a plate of food in hand, her voice cutting through their shouting. "Enough!"

She placed the food down and turned to Serena. "What did I tell you about yelling?"

Serena mumbled, "Not to…"

"Were you wrong?"

Tears welled in Serena's eyes. "Yes, Mom."

"Good. Wash your hands, dinner's ready." Paisley gently touched Serena's head.

Serena, still fuming, stomped off. Paisley sighed and turned to Grayson, who stood rigid. "Go wash your hands. Dinner's ready."

Grayson stared. Did she hear him? Did she hear him call her ugly? Why wasn't she mad? Why didn't she scold him like she used to? Why wasn't she like this with Serena?