From Forgotten Wife To Fierce Queen - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

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...
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?'
The strange sense of imbalance was eating him up inside, and his hands were practically tied in knots.
"Not hungry, huh?" Paisley's voice was calm, almost indifferent. She looked at Grayson with an expression to match, as if she couldn't care less whether he sat down to eat or not.
Grayson wanted to blurt out something defiant, like "I'm not hungry, and I wouldn't eat your food even if I were!" But before he could open his mouth, his stomach betrayed him with a loud, unmistakable growl.
Paisley shook her head and took his hand, gently leading him toward the bathroom. "Go wash your hands and come eat."
Paisley knew Grayson didn't like her, so she didn't try to maintain their relationship to have him accept her.
Since Dominick said it was her responsibility to take care of Grayson, she'd comply with it for the two days.
Grayson let Paisley pull him along, and he glanced at their joined hands. That strange pang of bitterness eased just a little. And so, without protest, he washed his hands as demanded.
It had been a long time since Paisley had made a proper meal. Ever since Maria had been around, she rarely had to cook. Her skills were a bit rusty, but Serena didn't seem to care—she started to dig in the moment she hit the table.
"Slow down," Paisley said to her with a smile. "You'll choke if you're not careful."
She noticed Grayson hadn't touched his food and asked, "What's wrong? Not to your taste?"
Grayson pressed his lips together, refusing to answer.
Paisley sighed, her patience thinning. "Well, you'll have to deal with it for two days. Or you can call your dad and have him ask Marissa to come get you."
She knew Grayson adored Marissa. Surely, she thought Marissa wouldn't mind taking him in.
To her surprise, Grayson picked up his fork and began shoveling food into his mouth without a word like Serena did.
Paisley blinked, caught off guard. 'What's with this kid?' she wondered.
But she decided not to dwell on it. After all, she was only responsible for him for two days, and she didn't want to complicate things.
Meals at Paisley's house were all about balance. Meat and vegetables were all carefully portioned out. So when Paisley noticed Serena eating nothing but meat, she said, "Rena, don't just eat the meat. You need veggies to grow strong and healthy, okay?"
Serena nodded obediently and plopped a piece of broccoli into her bowl.
Satisfied, Paisley glanced up just in time to see Grayson silently scooping a giant pile of greens onto his plate. She raised her eyebrows but said nothing, a small smile tugging at her lips.
After dinner, Grayson sprawled on the coffee table to read a book while Serena played quietly in her toy corner. The rare calmness in the house gave Paisley a chance to sit on the couch to continue reading her book.
It didn't take long for Grayson to finish his book. He was smart—reading a storybook was never much of a challenge. Soon, he was sitting there with nothing to do.
Paisley noticed and asked, "Done with that book?"
"Yeah," he muttered, looking awkward.
"What do you usually do around this time?" she asked.
"Just play," Grayson replied curtly.
Paisley arched her brows upon hearing that answer. She knew Grayson had a huge playroom at his house, full of every kind of toy imaginable. But the colorful, girly toys here, definitely not his style, were all Serena's.
"Wanna read another book?" Paisley asked.
Grayson shot her a look of pure disdain. "What kind of books could you possibly have?"
As if to prove his point, he glanced at the one in Paisley's hands and was surprised to see it was a book in French.
"Wait... You can read French?" he blurted, standing up to snatch the book from Paisley.
After having a close look, he confirmed it. It was indeed a French novel, thick and full of text he couldn't even decipher. He had just started to learn French, and he barely knew a lot of words.
Paisley took the book back with a calm expression. "Yes, I can."
Before Grayson could process that, Serena piped up from her corner, all too happy to brag. "You know what? My mom knows more than just French. She can speak Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian too!"
Grayson's jaw practically hit the floor. His head was spinning. The woman he thought he knew—this quiet, plain homemaker—was suddenly someone completely unfamiliar. Everything he'd believed about her felt wrong.