Watching You Burn In Regret novel Chapter 53

Ten minutes later, Seren arrived at The Antiquarian's Gallery.

The moment she stepped into the studio, she lost herself in her work, brush sweeping across the canvas, utterly oblivious to the passage of time.

It wasn't until the piece was finally finished that she let out a long, relieved breath, carefully returning her paintbrush to its holder.

"All done?"

The voice belonged to Seth.

He'd arrived some time ago. Seeing the studio door ajar, he'd come by to remind Seren it was lunchtime, only to find her completely absorbed in painting *Peaks Piercing the Spring Clouds*.

Not wanting to disturb her, Seth had simply observed in silence, waiting until she set her brush down before finally speaking up.

When Seren painted, she was as tranquil as a monk in meditation; it was only when she turned around that she noticed Seth standing nearby—she had no idea how long he'd been there.

She nodded. "Yes, it's finished. You came at just the right time—take a look."

Mist and sunlight danced across the canvas, distant peaks shrouded in cold, winding trails. Where the paint was thick, the mountains rose in layered grandeur; where it was light, a few deft strokes hinted at the wild beauty of the landscape.

Seth's face broke into a warm, approving smile. "No surprise there. Mr. Shaw's protégé through and through—your hand hasn't lost any of its strength."

Shaw's original *Peaks Piercing the Spring Clouds* wasn't a large work, but its detail and layered brushwork were formidable.

Most people, even without aiming to perfectly capture its spirit, would need five to seven days just to replicate the technical aspects.

Seren, though, had completed it flawlessly in only two.

Seth couldn't help but marvel—talent really was a rare gift.

For the average person, mastering this level of technique would take three decades of diligent practice. Seren, barely in her twenties, had already reached this height.

Seren just smiled, saying nothing, and instinctively reached for her phone.

Sure enough, several messages had come in—from Lennon.

*You don't need to be so formal with me.*

*Don't forget to eat lunch today.*

*No matter how busy you get, take care of yourself. Call me when you're done—I'll take you out for a bite.*

Every word radiated concern.

"That's someone important to you, isn't it?"

Seth's tone was gentle, the answer all but certain.

He remembered how Seren was obsessively neat; she always washed the paint off her hands before doing anything else after finishing a piece. Habits like that, especially the ones tied to her profession, were hard to break—even after all these years.

It was only with Zena's mention that Seren remembered the matter of the Rutledge Group shares.

Years ago, Old Mr. Rutledge had always favored her. He'd promised that once she married, he'd give her five percent of Rutledge Group as a wedding dowry.

Zena and her husband had agreed—though not enthusiastically.

After all, Rutledge Group was Old Mr. Rutledge's legacy; giving a little to his granddaughter made sense.

But their agreement had felt reluctant, almost forced.

At the time, Old Mr. Rutledge had even insisted Zena bring in a lawyer to formalize it.

The contract would take effect once Seren married.

He'd seen clearly that Seren was never the favored child in Zena's household, so he'd made this arrangement to protect her, ensuring that even if she fell out of favor in the Bradley family, with no parents or siblings to support her, she'd always have those shares to rely on.

The contract was his way of making sure Zena and her husband couldn't renege when the time came.

Because this was the safeguard Old Mr. Rutledge had left her, Seren lowered her gaze and simply replied, "Alright."

With that, Zena hung up without another word.

As Seren put her phone down, Seth noticed all the color had drained from her face.