He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 21

“K.”

Grant Gauthier stared at the letter on the screen for a long time.

He turned it over in his mind, feeling an unplaceable sense of familiarity, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He had dug through Hunter Hale's public profile, but the information regarding “K” was ridiculously scarce.

Bursting onto the scene at the 2016 Art Basel, every single piece sold out, and the highest bid shattered the record for a newcomer that year.

And then, nothing. It was as if this artist had evaporated from the face of the earth, leaving behind a completely clean slate.

He rubbed his temples and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat.

Forget it. If he couldn't remember, there was no point in stressing over it.

The most pressing matter was to get Hunter Hale to agree to a meeting. The cultural real estate project couldn't be delayed any longer.

——

The next day at noon, in the West End.

The coffee shop had been open for over a decade. The storefront was incredibly worn, the paint on the signboard peeling away.

But they roasted their beans perfectly, and the owner had a phenomenal memory. When Sienna Sawyer pushed the door open, the owner did a double-take. “It's been a while. You've lost a lot of weight.”

“Yeah, it's been a while.”

Sienna chose a seat by the window.

Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a warm glow across the table. She rested her hands in that patch of light, her fingers so thin the knuckles protruded, her nail beds completely pale.

Hunter Hale arrived ten minutes early.

He pushed the door open with a sense of urgency, his expensive leather dress shoes clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. Before he even reached the table, his eyes widened.

“Sienna, how did you get so thin?”

Hunter sat down across from her and took off his sunglasses.

Sienna looked him up and down. Immaculately groomed, wearing a tailored designer suit and an expensive vintage watch, looking every bit the international powerhouse.

She set the fork down and took a sip of the warm soup instead. The heated liquid slid down her throat, finally soothing her stomach.

Hunter watched her without rushing her. He took a sip of his coffee before finally speaking.

“I came back solely for you.”

Sienna looked up.

“I got the news the moment your account was unbanned,” Hunter said, tapping his finger against the table. “Sienna, it's been eight years. Have you finally figured things out?”

Eight years.

Hearing that number from someone else's mouth carried a completely different weight.

When Sienna shot to fame at Art Basel at seventeen, Hunter was the very first agent to seek her out.

Back then, Hunter hadn't founded Artemia yet. He was just a young, ambitious agent with a sharp eye and enough guts to bet his entire career on a seventeen-year-old girl.

When Sienna suddenly vanished, Hunter never gave up, reserving a prime collaborative spot for her every single year.