Chapter 1527
When There Is Nothing Left But Love
The two sisters looked to be having more fun out there while Gregory and the housekeeper were hiding
under the shade, completely in their own little world as they fiddled with some miniature laptops like
usual.
Hearing a commotion coming from the study, I tore my gaze away and headed there.
I stopped at the doorway. Ashton and John were acting strangely civil with one another as they stared
intently at the painting bought from Nathanielâs art gallery yesterday.
The painting was being displayed on an easel in the center of the study. John sat in an armchair off to
one side, occasionally sneaking interested glances at the artwork.
Ashton, on the other hand, was standing right in front of the easel. His expression was completely
serious and his gaze was sharp as he reached out to feel the texture of the painting, as if he would be
able to understand the artistâs emotions that way.
It took a while for them to notice my presence, Ashtonâs eyes softening in mirth when he saw me.
âYouâre awake.â
âMhm.â I entered the room, sitting down on a chair beside John. âWhy were you so insistent on buying
this painting? Whatâs so special about it?â
I eyed John as I spoke, curious about the answer.
âWe should take the chance to visit while the older relatives have returned to the country,â John
randomly said instead, changing the topic. âItâll be easier since everyoneâs in one place; I donât have to
run here and there.â
On the surface, his words sounded like he was being considerate of other people, but I could detect a
hint of sorrow in them.
After all, he hadnât seen Emma in a long time. He had every right to feel frustrated.
Ashton didnât react much, but I spoke up, âI think thatâs a good idea. Weâll do as you say.â
A reunion with Emma and Drew might be just the thing to lift Johnâs spirits and prevent any further
friction between him and Ashton.
As expected, my brother quickly sprang into action and grabbed his phone off the table, dialing
someoneâs number as he made to leave the room. âAsk your guy to explain everything to you,â he
reminded me before walking out.
Does he think Ashton doesnât deserve to be called by his name?
I looked exasperatedly towards Ashton, who didnât seem at all perturbed. The corners of his lips
quirked up as he helped me to my feet and led me to stand in front of the painting.
He gently lifted my right hand and guided it to touch the surface of the canvas. The rough, uneven
texture of the dried oil paints under my fingertips added yet another layer of vibrancy to the artwork.
Perhaps it was because I lacked an artistic intuition, but I couldnât feel any emotions rise within me
even while observing the painting at such a close distance. After a short pause, I awkwardly pulled my
hand back. âIâd rather you just tell me outright. I donât have any talents in art, so I have no idea what
youâre getting at.â
His eyes narrowed slightly. He turned around and picked up a single banknote, mysteriously pressing it
into my hands.
âAm I supposed to absorb some sort of power from your wealth?â I joked. âIs this going to help open up
my third eye or something?â
âPossibly,â he answered. âFeel it thoroughly, and then maybe youâll understand the profoundness of this
painting.â
Is he pulling my leg? Without thinking twice, I crumpled up the banknote into a ball in an act of
defiance, acting as if I was going to chuck it at him.
But the moment my fingers properly closed around the ball of paper in my hand, a sense of deja vu
came over me. My movements froze mid-air, and I slowly unclenched my hand to take a closer look at
the note.
Is this a coincidence?
The texture of the banknote was the exact same as the texture of Nathanielâs oil painting.
âTell me whatâs on your mind,â Ashton drawled out.
I snapped awake from my daze, reaching out and touching the oil painting again to make sure that I
wasnât hallucinating. âAre you trying to say that the canvas used for this painting is the same paper
used to print this note?â
Anyone who had studied law before knew that the entire process of making banknotes, from designing
to printing to being made available for public use, was a very strictly monitored process. No matter how
high your position was or how much influence you had, no one was entitled to privately own the original
material for these banknotes.