He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 121

The words pricked at her newly relaxed nerves like a tiny needle.

It meant the countdown on her life still existed.

And these newly acquired thirty days wouldn't take effect until after that "death"?

That was fine.

Sienna Sawyer looked up at the blurred city lights in the distance. Since fate insisted she play out this charade, she would commit to the role entirely.

She would turn Grant Gauthier's obsession into her sharpest weapon, forging it into the very grave he dug for himself.

Suppressing every trace of emotion, she turned, hailed a cab, and gave the driver the address to Hunter Hale's studio.

...

Half an hour later, inside an exclusive, private club downtown.

Warm amber light spilled across the expensive velvet carpet, the air thick with the faint scent of cigars and aged cedar.

Hunter Hale personally pulled out a chair for her, sliding over a glass of warm lemon water.

"How are you? Are you okay?" Hunter's brows knitted together as she carefully scrutinized her complexion.

Sienna shook her head, gripping the warm glass until the chill in her palms finally began to fade.

"I'm fine. Sorry to worry you."

"Don't give me that, you're as pale as a ghost," Hunter scolded gently, her voice dropping. "Did you really just leave the Gauthier estate like that? What about Eleanor..."

"Eleanor is fine," Sienna interrupted, her voice perfectly flat. "Grant lied to me."

Hunter froze, disbelief quickly melting into sheer outrage.

"How... how could he joke about his own grandmother's life! He's out of his mind!"

Sienna forced a smile that looked more painful than a sob.

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