He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 198

When Lyla returned to the manor, there was a small paper packet securely tucked in her hand, filled with fine white powder.

The substance was smooth and pearlescent under the dim light, looking as harmless as powdered sugar.

It was an aphrodisiac she had bought on the black market for three times the going rate. The dealer had promised it was colorless, odorless, and highly effective even in small doses.

Lyla's grip tightened, crushing the paper packet against her palm.

Grant, don't blame me.

You forced my hand.

As long as I give you a child, the title of Mrs. Gauthier is entirely mine.

...

The study was completely dark.

Only the pale blue glow of the computer monitor illuminated Grant's face, casting harsh, icy shadows across his features.

Grant sat in his leather chair, elbows planted on the desk, his eyes locked dead on the screen.

Playing on the monitor was the security footage from the hospital room.

In the video, he was aggressively dragging Sienna off her hospital bed.

Her forehead violently collided with the metal frame of the bed. Even through the grainy footage, he could vaguely make out the blood beginning to pool.

Grant stared at the screen, paralyzed.

He had lost count of how many times he had replayed this exact clip.

His finger hovered over the trackpad. Every time he hit play, a suffocating wave of acid burned in his chest, making the back of his tongue go numb.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed outside the door. Grant instantly slammed the laptop shut. The screen went black, plunging the study back into total darkness.

"Get out."

His hoarse voice cut through the dark room, radiating absolute zero.

"Grant, it's me."

Lyla's voice drifted softly through the gap in the door, laced with desperate fawning and careful hesitation.

"You haven't eaten all day. I made you some soup. Please, just have a little."

Grant said nothing.

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