Page 51 of Sexted By a Stranger
"However, there's still room for improvement in technique." She pointed to the pattern on the screen. "The wing lines could be more three-dimensional—try using gradient strokes to show the play of light on metal. And here…"
We discussed for a full thirty minutes, and Isabella's professional guidance was invaluable. Just as I was getting absorbed in the lesson, I heard soft footsteps behind me.
"Sheila?"
The familiar voice made me whip around.
Standing in the doorway was my mother, whom I hadn't seen in so long. She wore a brand-new, perfectly tailored dress in soft, muted colors, her hair elegantly pinned into a chignon. Her face glowed with a healthy radiance from within, her mouth naturally curved upward in a warm, happy arc. Her eyes, looking at me, were full of pure joy.
Oh my God! It really was Mom. Enormous joy exploded like fireworks in my chest, blood racing joyfully through my veins as warmth flooded my entire body.
"Are you on a call with your mentor?" she asked softly. "I'll come back later."
"It's fine, we were just finishing up." I said to the screen, "Ms. Winston, thank you for your guidance."
"I look forward to seeing your revised work, Sheila." Isabella smiled as she ended the call.
After closing the video, I immediately stood and walked toward Mom. "How did you get here? You look completely different."
Mom placed both hands on my face, her eyes brimming with maternal love. "Mr. Bellomo's people brought us here yesterday. He said you were here taking care of him, and was worried you might be homesick." She paused, smoothing her dress with slight embarrassment. "These clothes were also from him."
Warmth surged through me. Luca hadn't just brought my family here—he'd thoughtfully provided appropriate clothing for Mom too.
"Where's Leon?" I asked.
"In the garden, painting." Mom's face was wreathed in smiles.
Just then, Leon appeared in the doorway, his face glowing with healthy color, a drawing board clutched in his arms.
"Sheila!" he said excitedly. "I'm painting this garden—it's so beautiful."
I crouched down in front of him. On the canvas, watercolors bled into brilliant splashes—fountains, roses, arched moon gates, every flower bursting with vibrant life.
"Your technique has improved so much." I ruffled his hair.
"Mr. Bellomo said he's getting me the best art teacher." He was practically bouncing in his wheelchair with excitement.
Mom sighed with emotion. "Leon's recovery is all thanks to Mr. Bellomo."
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling across their faces—the fine lines around Mom's eyes smoothed out, and my brother's eyes reflected a light I hadn't seen in far too long.
At that moment, I suddenly understood that no matter what secrets Luca was hiding, no matter how complex and dangerous his world was, at least the stability and dignity he'd given my family were real and tangible. This kindness carried more weight than any words ever could.
When I returned to Luca's room, he was resting against the headboard with his eyes closed. At the sound of the door opening, he slowly opened them.
"Did you see them?" he asked.
I walked closer and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."
"For what?" He wrapped his arm around my waist, drawing me into his embrace.
"For bringing my family here, for everything you've done for us."
"It's what I should do." His voice was gentle. "You're my woman. Taking care of you and the people you love is my responsibility."
We held each other quietly, savoring this peaceful intimacy.
"I've already arranged for Leon's art teacher," he said suddenly. "They'll be here tomorrow."
