When There Is Nothing Left But Love Chapter 1527


    The two sisters looked to be having more fun out there while Gregory and the housekeeper were hiding


    under the shade,pletely in their own little world as they fiddled with some miniatureptops like


    usual.


    Hearing amotioning 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 Nathaniel’s art gallery yesterday.


    The painting was being disyed on an easel in the center of the study. John sat in an armchair off to


    one side, asionally sneaking interested nces at the artwork.


    Ashton, on the other hand, was standing right in front of the easel. His expression waspletely


    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 artist’s emotions that way.


    It took a while for them to notice my presence, Ashton’s eyes softening in mirth when he saw me.


    “You’re awake.”


    “Mhm.” I entered the room, sitting down on a chair beside John. “Why were you so insistent on buying


    this painting? What’s so special about it?”


    I eyed John as I spoke, curious about the answer.


    “We should take the chance to visit while the older rtives have returned to the country,” John


    randomly said instead, changing the topic. “It’ll be easier since everyone’s in one ce; I don’t have to


    run here and there.”


    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 hadn’t seen Emma in a long time. He had every right to feel frustrated.


    Ashton didn’t react much, but I spoke up, “I think that’s a good idea. We’ll do as you say.”


    A reunion with Emma and Drew might be just the thing to lift John’s spirits and prevent any further


    friction between him and Ashton.


    Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g


    As expected, my brother quickly sprang into action and grabbed his phone off the table, dialing


    someone’s number as he made to leave the room. “Ask your guy to exin everything to you,” he


    reminded me before walking out.


    Does he think Ashton doesn’t deserve to be called by his name?


    I looked exasperatedly towards Ashton, who didn’t 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 anotheryer of vibrancy to the artwork.


    Perhaps it was because Icked an artistic intuition, but I couldn’t 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. “I’d rather you just tell me outright. I don’t have any talents in art, so I have no idea what


    you’re getting at.”


    His eyes narrowed slightly. He turned around and picked up a single banknote, mysteriously pressing it


    into my hands.


    “Am I supposed to absorb some sort of power from your wealth?” I joked. “Is this going to help open up


    my third eye or something?”


    “Possibly,” he answered. “Feel it thoroughly, and then maybe you’ll understand the profoundness of this


    painting.”


    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 Nathaniel’s oil painting.


    “Tell me what’s on your mind,” Ashton drawled out.


    I snapped awake from my daze, reaching out and touching the oil painting again to make sure that I


    wasn’t hallucinating. “Are you trying to say that the canvas used for this painting is the same paper


    used to print this note?”


    Anyone who had studiedw before knew that the entire process of making banknotes, from designing


    to printing to being made avable 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.