He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 2

Or rather, he just didn't care if there was a baby or not.

Sienna's hands curled into tight fists, a lump forming in her throat.

It was impossible to say she had no feelings left for Grant after all these years.

But what did it matter? It was all about to end.

Sienna slowly braced herself against the edge of the mattress and sat up.

The movement pulled at her injuries, draining the color from her face, but she didn't make a sound.

"Where's the pen?"

Grant froze, clearly not expecting her to be so direct.

Based on her usual behavior, Sienna should have been crying, throwing a fit, and clinging to his leg, begging him not to leave.

He had an entire contingency plan ready, even preparing to call security if she threatened to end her own life.

But none of that happened.

Sienna repeated herself. "The pen."

Grant pulled a fountain pen from his pocket and handed it over, his gaze locked on her face as he searched for any crack in her composure.

Sienna took it, opened the document, and flipped through the pages.

The terms were meticulously drafted, but one line stood out starkly: The female party voluntarily forfeits all joint marital assets; the child will be raised by the male party, and the female party shall never appear before the child.

No matter how strong she tried to be, reading that sentence felt like a devastating blow, leaving her breathless.

But she quickly collected herself, flipping straight to the last page to sign her name.

Grant picked up the agreement, verified the signature, and his expression darkened.

"I'm warning you, signed is signed. Don't come crying to me later. We have absolutely nothing to do with each other anymore."

"Okay."

Just one word. Sienna didn't offer a single unnecessary syllable, her expression remarkably calm.

Her indifference made Grant feel like an absolute clown.

His face turned stormy.

But Grant knew Sienna. This woman loved him to her very bones; leaving him was like cutting off her oxygen. She couldn't survive it.

This calm facade of hers was one hundred percent a ploy to play hard to get.

Just wait. In three days, tops, she'd be calling to beg him.

Grant put the agreement away and turned for the door.

"Grant."

His footsteps faltered.

Sienna stared at the ceiling as the metallic taste of blood rose in her throat.

The system's voice chimed again.

[Countdown penalty engaged. The host's bodily functions will rapidly deteriorate. Time remaining: 29 days, 23 hours, 16 minutes.]

Twenty-nine days.

It was enough.

Enough time to settle everything she had left to do.

When the nurse pushed the door open to change her dressing, the room was empty.

The hospital wristband had been removed and left on the nightstand next to the pillow, pinning down a small note.

"Voluntary discharge."

The nurse picked up the band, hesitating over whether to call her family.

But then she remembered this patient. She had been here for three days, and not a single person had come to visit.

The man who showed up today hadn't even taken a seat, standing for less than five minutes before leaving.

The nurse sighed and tossed the band into the drawer.

With family like that, calling would be pointless anyway.