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Chapter 790
This was more awkward than a one-night stand with a stranger.
She was flustered and at a loss when there was a knock on the door, causing Lizetta to freeze.
Remington's voice came from the other side. "Are you looking for your lingerie? It fell into the closet."
Glancing around, Lizetta realized she had hurried too quickly, wrapping herself in a towel but indeed leaving her underwear behind.
She bit her lip, her voice tight. "Just hang it on the doorknob outside, please."
"Alright, take your time. I'll use another room to shower."
His footsteps faded quickly, but Lizetta didn't dare open the bathroom door until the sounds were completely gone. She then swiftly grabbed the thin pieces of clothing and got dressed.
Exiting the bathroom, Remington was nowhere in sight in the bedroom. Lizetta headed towards the bedside table. The hairdryer wasn't in the bathroom, and with her thick, long hair, it always took ages to dry.
She preferred sitting in front of the vanity mirror to blow-dry her hair, so the hairdryer was always kept in the drawer beneath the nightstand.
As she approached, she paused, not to grab the hairdryer but captivated by a large oil painting hanging above the bed.
Her gaze was locked, filled with shock and complexity.
It depicted a couple's wedding, the woman in a flowing white dress, standing on tiptoe, wrapped around the neck of a man in a black tuxedo. The woman's eyelashes quivered, a look of blissful shyness on her face, as if she was about to kiss the man.
The man, looking down with a tender gaze, slowly leaned in towards her.
The woman's long veil fluttered in the breeze, hiding a little boy in a matching black tuxedo, his playful innocence radiating from the painting. The backdrop was adorned with roses in full bloom, under perfect sunshine.
Naturally, Lizetta recognized the figures: the woman was her, the
man was Remington, and the net
boy was their son, Daisyy
The bridal gown and the groom's suit were exact replicas of what they wore on their wedding day.
Even the design of the wedding ring on the woman's finger was detailed to match theirs.
Daisyy had her eyes but Remington's nose and mouth.
In this painting, they were the picture of a happy family.
Every stroke of the painting was infused with the artist's emotions, so full of happiness and detail. Lizetta knew it was Remington's work.
Remington had a natural talent for painting, having studied under the renowned artist Rhine as a child. A piece he made in high school once sold for a staggering hundred thousand dollars.
As a child, Lizetta had once pestered her brother to paint her portrait, but it never materialized.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.
Remington rarely painted people,
claiming it required understanding their deepest emotions and pouring in much more feeling.
He was naturally detached and cold, claiming he couldn't do it justice.
Then, entering the business world, he became too busy to even think about picking up a brush again.
Lizetta never expected to be caught off guard by such a painting.
But what was he trying to preserve with this painting?
Staring at it, her eyes gradually moistened, forgetting what she stood there for.
Until she felt someone close behind her, Remington's arms encircling her waist, pulling her gently into his embrace.
His voice was soft by her ear. "Why are you crying? Don't you like it?"