He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 103

On the opening day of the "Emerging Voices" art exhibition, almost all the mainstream media and art circle elites in the city gathered.

With Grant's sponsorship, Lyla Lennox occupied the most prominent Zone A booth at the entrance.

The area was lavishly decorated, with the spotlight focused directly on Lyla and her painting, First Snowfall.

Dressed in a custom white haute couture gown with flawless makeup, she smiled gracefully at the cameras.

"Ms. Lennox, as the special guest artist sponsored by The Gauthier Group, could you talk about the inspiration behind First Snowfall?"

"Ms. Lennox, rumor has it that you and Mr. Gauthier will be tying the knot soon. Is this exhibition a tribute to your romance?"

Basking in the attention, Lyla couldn't stop smiling.

This was exactly the effect she wanted—to let everyone know that Lyla Lennox was the only woman worthy of standing beside Grant Gauthier.

But she knew her main goal today was to win over the founder of the French Artemia Agency, Hunter Hale.

If she could connect with Hunter, the Gauthier family's cultural industry expansion would take a massive leap forward. And she would use this chance to solidify her position as the real Mrs. Gauthier.

Having been kicked out by the Lennox family, she had no fallback. This was her only shot.

Just then, a commotion broke out at the entrance.

A woman in a sharp black suit walked in, surrounded by an entourage. The crowd parted automatically for her. Her dominant, cutthroat aura made the air in the exhibition hall seemingly freeze.

It was Hunter Hale.

Lyla's eyes lit up. She lifted her skirt and hurried forward, adopting an elegant and humble posture.

Lyla wanted to salvage the situation, but Hunter didn't spare her another glance, walking straight toward the depths of the exhibition hall.

Trembling with rage, Lyla turned her head and followed Hunter's retreating figure, only to witness a scene that made her eyes burn with fury.

In Hall Three, Zone C—the most remote and dimly lit corner of the venue—Hunter stopped.

Sienna Sawyer stood there, dressed in a simple white blouse and jeans. Her slender figure and lonely silhouette seemed completely out of place amidst the venue's hustle and bustle.

Hunter walked up to her, her intimidating aura instantly melting into absolute gentleness, even affectionately patting her shoulder.

She whispered something in Sienna's ear, the two looking intimately familiar with each other.

Lyla's pupils shrank. She stared at that back, her heart gripped by an invisible hand as an indescribable wave of panic washed over her.