Upon returning to the villa, Titus Zane locked herself in the room on the fourth floor, and despite having decided to abstain from alcohol, she opened a bottle of red wine for herself, sat on the floor, and picked up the long-missed paintbrush in front of the canvas.
Perhaps it was her natural talent, or perhaps the delicate face was deeply engraved in her heart, as the strokes flowed smoothly. Before long, the image of the girl on the canvas was vividly clear.
Her eyebrows and eyes were picturesque, her flawless face, and the corners of her lips raised youthfully and boldly, like her long hair that fluttered in the wind...
"Mom..." A whisper escaped her lips, the paintbrush trembling in her fingers and falling, Titus Zane raised her hand, and her slender fingers gently stroked the girl's eyebrows and eyes.
