The Rewrite of Me

iar quiet. No screaming. No knocking. Just the

s sur

ownstairs-only to find a s

e moving into the old Wynthorpe estate. You've embarrassed

s curved. "

er that the wedding had al

creaking, and tucked between overgrown he

th every book she shelved and every c

apped around h

ater, Aureli

old key still working. "You

up from the canvas

ain," he said. "She

r brush into

id, stepping c

. "Is that a request,

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lood. That's w

ayed

time, then dipped her brush in

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you want me to paint your portrait? You

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dn't wat