Chapter 55 Surprise
\-Lilith-
First it was my father. Now it was me, getting scolded for running my mouth about wanting to become VP. I couldn’t stand being in that house a second longer.
So I got in my car and drove.
Before I knew it, I was heading toward a new location, Daniel Harper’s studio.
Maybe I should have told him I was coming, but a part of me wanted to surprise him for some odd reason.
I didn’t decline.
I guess I really wanted that too. So I got lunch on my way. The moment I arrived, I was greeted with chaos— good chaos.
A closed sign hung loosely on the door, but it was opened, so I walked in anyway.
I was greeted by the smell of wet paint and chemicals, and bright, popping colors that reminded me of a daycare—in a good way.
Daniel was spray-painting a part of the wall, creating a sort of graffiti pattern with red, black and every other graffiti-coded color one could think of.
Still, he hadn’t realized my presence.
“Surprise!” I loudly said, raising the takeout bag slightly above my head.
He instantly turned, his eyes wide with shock. I couldn’t see the expression on the rest of his face though, because he was wearing a face mask.
“Miss Ashford,” he called, his voice surprisingly clear through the mask, “What are you doing here—I mean, I didn’t know you were coming in today?”
“I didn’t know I was coming in either,” I quickly told him. “You said I could drop by anytime, so I thought, why not today?” I said, shrugging.
He chuckled with a small nod. “I had to close the shop today to finish painting,” he said, taking off his gloves and apron as he gestured to a lounge area. “I can finish it anytime.”
“I’m really sorry I intruded,” I said, taking a seat in the modern, comfy space.
“It’s totally fine,” he said, taking the seat next to me.
My eyes glanced around the space, “I love the decor. I really love what you’ve done with the place.”
His studio was really beautiful, and I could tell he had put a lot of soul into it.
“Thanks.” He nodded.
Then silence.
Loud, awkward silence.
I suddenly had the urge to fill it up because it was somewhat my responsibility.
“You must have probably heard about what happened to my father yesterday,” I said, taking a bite out of my burger I had unknowingly uncovered.
“I’m honestly exhausted by the crises, the scandals. One minute we’re debunking rumors, and the next we’re on the news for—”
I stopped myself.
Because he was staring. Staring at me in such a way I couldn’t understand.
Maybe I was talking too much?
I swallowed the next bite. “You should take off your mask, and have some lunch too.” I told him, gesturing to the takeaway place in front of him.
“I’m good. Inhaling the paint is bad for my airways,” he stated. “And it’s okay if you want to talk about your family, I’m more than happy to listen.”
A smile tugged my lips before I even realized it. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it this time?” He asked out of nowhere.
I blinked, surprised. “A thousand? It’s so bad that my father got suspended, and my half-sister got appointed as interim VP. If you asked me, I’d say she’s hardly qualified for the role.”
“Seems to me that you both don’t get along?”
“Well, not completely,” I admitted. “There are days we don’t get along. The thing is, she’s the golden child, and I’m the shadow. It sucks to be the shadow.”
He let a small sigh. “On the bright side, you don’t get to be the center of all the hate going on right now.”
“I guess.” He was kind of right, unlike Celeste. I had barely gotten any threats. If anything, it felt like I was immune to their hate.
It was quite a relief. Even though a part of me hated what my father had done.
“I still can’t believe he did that, I’m really hurt.” I blurted out as if it was the worst thing I knew he’d done. Or perhaps I wanted sympathy?
“Sometimes, family is our greatest enemy,” he said.
My eyes widened, “Have you been hurt by your family?”
“Something like that.” He nodded. “I should finish up,” he said, rising to his feet.
I didn’t want him to. At least not yet.
At that moment, a large black and white portrait—photograph of an asian woman in the middle of the studio bearing resemblance to him caught my attention.
“Who’s that?” I quickly asked, “Tell me about that one. I hadn’t seen it before.”
He blinked. Sitting back down as his gaze darted between me and the photo.
“That’s my mother.” He finally said. “She’s Korean.”
Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. His features finally made sense, he was Asian-American.
“That’s really cool, you must have been raised by really cool parents.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling through his eyes. “I don’t remember my father though, he’s late. My mother has raised me since then.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I murmured, my chest tightening a little. I didn’t know what else to say, so my fingers curled awkwardly around the strap of my bag as I looked at him. “That must have been hard.”
He shrugged. “He passed when I was seven. I don’t remember him that much,” he casually said.
I wish I could see his reaction. I wish he could take off this damn mask.
“How is she?” I quietly asked.
“She was here until I finished middle school. She was heartbroken by my father’s death, so she returned to Korea. She’s currently in the countryside in Busan with my halmeoni and my aunties. She’s happy.”
“She must be proud of you.”
“I hope so. She never wanted me to come back here after my father’s death.”
I frowned. “What happened to your father?”
He paused, studying me for a moment like he was weighing something in his head. Then he hesitated before finally saying, “That’s a story for another time.”
Just like that, he shifted the topic.
“Are you still scouting?”
“No,” I sighed. “I had to pause because of the situation.”
With that, he finally took the mask off.
A fresh cut split his lower lip.
I gasped, probably a little more dramatic than the situation required. “What happened to you?”
He let out a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his head. “I fell off the ladder while trying to mount that photo.” He gestured toward the ladder lying on the floor nearby.
“You should’ve said something.”
He grinned sheepishly. “It’s embarrassing. My back hurts too.”
“Hold on,” I said. “I think I have something.”
I hurried out to my car and returned a minute later with a small first-aid kit and a plaster.
When I held it up, he shook his head immediately.
“I can do it myself,” he said, gently pushing my hand back. Then he patted my shoulder with a grateful smile. “Thank you for coming. Really. But I should get back to painting the wall.”
I glanced at the empty studio around him. “You should hire someone to help.”
He laughed softly. “I’m a struggling artist. Hiring help isn’t exactly in the budget.”
“Well… I could help,” I offered.
His smile was kind, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said again.
Then he turned slightly toward the wall, already picking up the tools. “Come visit again sometime.”
Something about the way he said it made it sound like he didn’t actually mean it. That was my cue to leave. I walked out of the studio feeling oddly deflated and climbed back into my car.
Then, my phone started ringing.
Colin.
I ignored the first call.
Then the second.
When it rang a third time, my irritation finally won.
I answered with a snap. “What?”
His voice came through loud and annoyingly excited.
“I've got the keys.”