At that moment, seeing that Barclay and Adelaide had drawn clear boundaries, someone thrust a paintbrush into Barclay's hand along with a half-full can of paint.

In a natural tone, they said, "Barclay, let's not dwell on the past. You're here now, so might as well help us paint. Us girls aren't exactly pros at this, and we're opening in three days. I figured we'd keep it simple and do the decorating ourselves."

Barclay, whose worldview was predominantly cynical, found himself holding a paint can, barely able to wrap his head around the situation. He was the eldest son of the prestigious Clark family and had never done anything like this before.

The next thing he knew, Morwenna was tying an apron around his neck and then placing a cap over his carefully styled hair. Just like that, a new painter was born.

he began painting. To his surprise, he found the task strangely therapeutic. Barclay threw himself into the work. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt

levied against a woman, sounded almost laughable. Her incarceration was largely due to Stuart's significant influence. Yet, she was confident she'd be out soon. With her family's support, she'd be free

a good amount of money at her disposal and connections with the

her mother, which surprised her. Given the gravity of the situation, she expected her father to be there too. Violet, hearing footsteps, looked up sharply, her gaze filled with venom as she stared at

"Mom, don't look at me like that. I didn't want this to happen. It was your constant nagging about securing Stuart that drove me to it. But don't worry, I still have a chance. Is the lawyer arranged? How soon can

anger, "Adelaide! You still want to get out?

face paled, "Mom, what are you saying? How can you

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