He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 1

Pain.

Agonizing pain.

Sienna Sawyer was drenched in sweat, a suffocating wave of cramps tearing through her abdomen.

She snapped her eyes open, feeling a chilling emptiness inside her.

It wasn't hunger; it was the visceral sensation of having something violently ripped from her very being.

Her baby was gone.

For three months, she had taken her prenatal vitamins, given up iced drinks, and never even dared to walk too fast.

Yet Grant Gauthier had shoved her right down the stairs.

She had just been trying to tell him about her ultrasound results when Lyla Lennox called, sobbing about severe menstrual cramps.

He hadn't hesitated for a second to leave, impatiently shoving a blocking Sienna out of his way.

"Move."

Just that one word.

Her foot slipped, her back slamming into the handrail before she tumbled down the flight.

As she fell, her first instinct was to shield her stomach, but the sharp edge of the steps dug mercilessly into her lower back.

Sienna remembered it vividly; he had looked back at her.

But only for a split second.

Then he continued his phone call and walked out the door.

Right then, a mechanical voice echoed in her mind.

[Target Grant Gauthier's affection level has dropped to a negative value. Mission completely failed.]

[Penalty mechanism activated. Life countdown: 30 days.]

Lying in the hospital bed, Sienna listened to the prompt without a shred of reaction.

Thirty days.

She turned the number over in her mind, surprisingly feeling a wave of relief.

It had been eight years.

Ever since she was bound to this wretched system at eighteen, she had been doing the exact same thing—trying to please Grant.

The system had told her she had to win his heart, or she would die.

So she loved him with everything she had, crushing her talent, her pride, and her dignity to fit into the hollow shell of "Mrs. Gauthier."

She loved to paint.

Her mentor had called her a once-in-a-century genius, blessed by God with an unmatched sense for texture, color, and composition.

But in the end, she gave it all up.

All because Grant had said, "You look ridiculous when you paint."

"Grant, is she going to cry again? I don't want to make things hard for you."

Sienna knew that voice. It was Lyla, the woman who had wedged herself into their marriage for eight years.

Grant's voice was low, yet incredibly gentle. "Give me five minutes. I'll handle it and be right out."

Handle...

Sienna rolled the word over in her mind. Was he going to handle her?

The door was pushed open.

Grant walked in, dressed in a sharp suit, carrying the lingering scent of Lyla's signature perfume.

He glanced at Sienna on the bed, not asking if she was in pain or how the baby was doing.

Instead, he pulled a document from his briefcase and tossed it onto her nightstand.

"Sign it."

Sienna turned her head. It was a divorce agreement.

"Lyla wants the title of Mrs. Gauthier," Grant said, standing by the bed and staring down at her with the same tone he used in board meetings.

Sienna stayed silent.

Grant frowned, issuing a sharp warning. "Don't try to use this pregnancy to trap me. Even if you have the kid, I won't give you a second glance."

So he didn't even know the baby was gone.