The Billionaire And His Son Want Me Back (Paisley)

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?"noveldrama

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... Grayson searched the room to look through the paintings, but there wasn't a single trace of him anywhere.

Suddenly, his emotions boiled over, and he yelled, "Who cares about some stupid painting? I don't even want it! They're ugly! All of them are ugly!"

Then he bolted down the stairs with red eyes.

Serena ran after him and cut him off in the living room. "Take that back! My mom's paintings are not ugly!" Her face was flushed with anger now, and her hands balled into fists.

She thought, 'Grayson is the worst! How could he keep trash-talking my mom like this? Mom even said he was my big brother. I don't want a brother like him.'

"They are ugly! They just are! She's ugly, and her paintings are even uglier!" Grayson yelled, his voice rising to drown out the storm of feelings he couldn't control. Tears prickled his eyes as he stood there, and his fists clenched tightly.

"That's not true! My mom's the most beautiful woman in the world!" Serena screamed back. She didn't care if she was yelling-she needed him to hear it.

From the kitchen, Paisley appeared with a plate of food in hand, and she frowned as their shouting hit its peak.

"Enough!" she barked, her voice firm and final.

If she still didn't stop them, she was afraid the neighbors might have opinions.

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?'