He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 235

Using a material that practically devoured light to paint the main wall of a memorial exhibition?

That didn't sound like an art show. It sounded like a funeral.

Grant stood by the window, listening to Parker's report.

He didn't say a word, just stared silently out the glass. The rumble of traffic felt distant, muted by a thick pane of frosted glass.

His palm, slashed by the wine glass, had been carefully bandaged, but right now, he felt a newer, sharper pain spreading beneath the wound.

Knocking down the visual focal wall, sealing off his favorite window...

Every single command was a direct attack on his aesthetic tastes and his need for control.

He chewed over every word in his mind. It was like holding a red-hot coal in his mouth—impossible to swallow, but he refused to spit it out.

That woman wasn't curating an exhibition; she was staging a silent protest. She was slapping him in the face in the most elegant, undeniable way possible.

"Mr. Gauthier?" Parker's voice drifted tentatively through the phone. "Director West can't hold them off much longer."

"The contractors said that if a wall needs to come down, they have to finalize the plans today, otherwise they'll miss the deadline."

"Should we..."

Grant's knuckles turned white as he gripped his phone.

The light outside flickered across his face, leaving his expression unreadable.

After a long silence, his Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

"Let her knock it down." Grant forced the words through his teeth.

His voice was coated in ice, completely devoid of warmth.

Parker froze on the other end, feeling the eerie calm radiating through the receiver.

"Let her demolish it. Let her seal it. Let her paint it!" Grant repeated, his pace slow, enunciating every syllable as if confirming the choice to himself.

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