He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 248

Her tone was light, as if she were discussing something that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

Her voice didn't waver even slightly as she finished her sentence.

But Lucas could sense the unfathomable wariness hidden beneath her seemingly relaxed posture.

That caution wasn't plastered across her face; it was woven into every inch of her rigid spine.

From the corner of his eye, he caught her hands resting on her lap. Her knuckles tightened slightly before quickly releasing, as if she were desperately fighting to hold something back.

The car glided smoothly onto a tree-lined avenue, the shadows of the branches washing over the windows.

The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled, fleeting patterns of light across her profile.

The tires crunched over thick layers of fallen leaves, producing a soft, rustling sound.

It sounded as if they were driving over fragments of the past—layer after layer, delicate, yet somehow weighing heavily on the soul.

Nobody spoke. The only sound in the cabin was the low, steady purr of the engine.

It was an even, restrained rhythm, perfectly matching their silence. Neither wanted to be the first to break it.

Rounding the final curve, an understated estate slowly emerged at the end of the road.

It was a far cry from the Gauthier family's desperate need to carve the word "luxury" into their front gates. Sullivan Manor radiated a timeless, traditional elegance that had settled over many years.

With its slate tiles and gracefully upturned eaves, the roofline traced a serene silhouette against the sky.

The marks of time were etched into every seam of the brickwork, as if the manor itself were a living, breathing testament to history.

The perimeter walls weren't exceedingly high, but they were swathed in thick layers of ivy that cascaded down in lush greenery.

When the wind blew, the leaves swayed gently, rustling like quiet whispers telling the tales of the family's past.

Only the intricate cloud motifs carved into the corners of the archway offered a hint of the profound wealth and heritage hidden within.

The car rolled to a smooth stop, and the hum of the engine faded into total silence.

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