He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 110

There was no fear in those eyes, no attempt to please, not even the slightest ripple of emotion.

After a long pause, he suddenly let out a soft chuckle.

The laugh carried an unexpected trace of admiration, mixed with a hint of playful intrigue.

Then he raised his hand and gave a lazy wave.

At almost the exact same moment, several men in black suits stepped silently out from the shadows of the venue and onto the stage.

Their footsteps were incredibly light, yet their movements were swift and entirely devoid of hesitation—clearly the result of brutal training.

Each locked onto a target, bending down effortlessly.

In the next second, Samuel and Simon were hoisted up from the floor, dangling like two weightless pieces of garbage.

"Ahhh—! Let me go! Help!"

"Sister! Sister, save me! I don't want to die!" Their agonizing screams echoed throughout the exhibition hall.

Seeing her son grabbed, Fiona lunged forward like a madwoman, trying to bite and scratch, only to receive a swift chop to the back of the neck from another bodyguard.

Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in a heap.

The bodyguards dragged them off the stage as if hauling away three bags of trash.

"It was all Mr. Gauthier's father who told me to read it! Go find him! I'm innocent—" Samuel howled as he was dragged toward the exit.

That single shout yanked the entire crowd's attention straight back to the "Gauthier family."

Countless gazes shifted simultaneously, landing squarely on the audience below.

Grant sat in his seat, his face as dark and rigid as if coated in frost.

This incident had escalated too quickly—so quickly he hadn't even had time to react.

But things were different now.

Now, every single camera was aimed at him, their dark lenses like greedy maws waiting to devour every micro-expression on his face.

Every flinch, every ragged breath was being endlessly magnified and analyzed frame by frame.

He wanted to explain, but found he had lost the right to even open his mouth.

There was no hatred or resentment in that calmness, only a profound detachment he couldn't decipher.

It was as if she had already completely erased the Gauthier family—and him—from her life.

Grant's heart suddenly felt hollowed out.

Hunter stepped forward, grabbing the microphone and sweeping her gaze across the venue.

"Everyone, today's farce ends here," her voice resonated with absolute authority. "The Chrysalis Broken is the gold-medal masterpiece, and Sienna Sawyer is its sole creator. As for the plagiarism, slander, and framing..."

She paused, her gaze slicing over Lyla and the pathetic figures below the stage.

"Artemia Agency reserves the right to pursue full legal action. Anyone who wishes to test their luck against our legal team is more than welcome."

No one dared to utter a sound.

Hunter turned and gently placed the trophy back into Sienna's hands, her movements so tender she seemed like a completely different person from the sharp-edged woman a second ago.

"Hold onto this. It's what you deserve."