The secret Painting

Richard came back with boxes of neatly wrapped packages—he had surprised her to make up for his absence.

The moment she saw them, her face lit up in a way she couldn’t hide. With excitement she sat on the bed, carefully opening each package like it contained something fragile.

“Richard… this is too much,” she said softly.

“It’s nothing,” he replied simply, watching her.

One after the other, she tried on the dresses. They were elegant, flowing pieces that hugged her frame perfectly.

Each time she stepped out to show him, she turned slightly, waiting—almost unconsciously—for his reaction.

“They’re beautiful,” he said.

You compliment the clothes so well.

By the time evening settled in, the house felt calm. Scarlett had already left earlier that day, her presence lingering only in memory.

They were all seated in the living room—

For a while, it felt peaceful.

Until Richard spoke.

“I’m going to step down from the company soon.”

The words landed heavily.

Jayden looked up, his expression unreadable.

“You need to start working there,” Richard continued, his voice firm.

“Learn the basics. Understand how things run. If you’re going to lead, you need to be prepared.”

Jayden leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose as if he had expected this.

“Dad,” he began, his tone raised a bit, “I’m an artist. I’m okay with it.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Is that what you want for yourself in life?”

“Yes,” Jayden replied without hesitation. “I get paid. Maybe not like you want, but it’s enough. And when I paint…” He paused, his gaze drifting somewhere distant. “I feel alive.”

That was the problem.

Richard understood passion—but not at the cost of stability.

“I’ve made my decision,” Richard said, his tone hardening. “You are my heir. You will take over the company. And to do that, you will start working there.”

Jayden let out a short, humorless scoff.

Of course it wasn’t a conversation—it was a command.

Without another word, he stood up.

“I’m not doing this,” he muttered, already walking away.

“Jayden—” Lena started, but he didn’t stop.

They heard the door shut.

Lena turned slowly to Richard, her brows drawn together. “Don’t you think that was a bit too harsh?”

She spoke gently, her fingers absentmindedly rubbing against her palm—a small habit she had when she was trying to ease tension.

“He never listens,” Richard replied, frustration slipping into his voice.

“I know,” she said carefully. “But he’s an adult now. Maybe he should decide what he really wants.”

Richard let out a dry chuckle.

“An adult? He’s turning twenty-four soon, Lena. And I’m his father—I know what’s best for him.”

“But it’s still his decision to make.”

He sighed. “I know that,” he admitted.

“But I’m not getting any younger. I need someone to take over when I retire. I can’t just… leave everything hanging.” His voice softened.

“And I can’t sit back and watch him struggle because of stubbornness.”

Lena watched him carefully.

She could see the fear in his eyes.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said.

Richard looked at her immediately. “Really?”

She nodded.

His expression eased a little.

“You’re the best,” he said, reaching for her hand and pulling her into a brief hug.

She let out a small laugh. “I haven’t convinced him yet. Don’t celebrate too early.”

“I know,” he said, pulling back slightly.

“But he listens to you.”

That made her pause.

“Which is strange,” Richard added.

"He's never cared about anyone’s opinion.”

Lena didn’t respond, but the thought lingered with her as she stood up later that night and made her way upstairs.

When she got to Jayden’s door, she hesitated for a second before knocking softly.

“Come in." His voice came from inside.

She pushed the door open.

And stopped.

It was the first time she was observing his room, memories of them together rushing in.

The room smells like him.

It wasn't overdecorated, but it stood out; there were some paintings hung on the walls.

Each one carried a raw emotion.

She found herself drawn in, her eyes moving from one piece to another, almost forgetting why she came.

“Wow,” she murmured. “This is… beautiful.”

Jayden, who had been sitting on the edge of his bed, watched her reaction. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Thanks.”

For a moment, the tension from earlier faded.

“So…” he said after a beat, his tone shifting slightly as his expression turned more serious. “What brings you here?”

She blinked, snapping out of her thoughts.

“Oh. Straight to the point?”

He chuckled lightly. “Sorry—that’s not how I meant it.”

She flipped her hair to the side in a playful gesture. “Too late. I’ve taken offense.”

“Alright,” he said, leaning back slightly, amusement in his eyes. “What do I do to please you, ma’am?”

She smiled, but as she sat down, her expression softened.

“It’s about earlier,” she said.

Jayden let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Did he send you?”

She hesitated briefly. “No. I came on my own.”

He studied her face for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to believe her.

“You can still paint,” she continued gently. “And work at the company. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

“He wants to control me,” Jayden said bluntly.

“He wants what’s best for you.”

“That’s his version of what’s best,” he corrected.

Lena sighed softly.

“I get it,” she said. “I really do. But maybe… just think about it? Not for him—for yourself.

Jayden ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly.

“I’ll think about it.”

It wasn't an agreement.

But it wasn't a refusal either.

“Okay,” she said, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly. “For what?”

“For hearing me out.”

A smirk appeared on his face.

"Well, I can’t really help it.”

Her cheeks warmed slightly at his tone.

She stood up quickly, brushing it off.

"I will be downstairs.”

"Sure."

As she turned to leave, something caught her eye.

A painting—set apart from the others.

Covered.

A piece of cloth had been draped over it, hiding whatever was beneath.

Her steps slowed.

Why cover a painting?

Curiosity flickered inside her, but she didn’t ask.

Instead, she glanced at it one last time before walking out of the room.

But the image stayed in her mind.

Because she knew he didn't want anyone to see it, means it's something serious.