He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 312

Metropolis, Gauthier Manor.

The once magnificent and imposing estate was now cloaked in a lifeless, suffocating gloom. Ever since the funeral that rocked the city three months ago, Grant Gauthier had completely transformed.

He no longer went to the office, handing all affairs of The Gauthier Group over to the Vice President and the Board of Directors. He locked himself in the master suite, clutching that freezing urn day and night without uttering a single word to anyone. He looked like a statue devoid of a soul.

He had grown skeletal, his eye sockets sunken and his jaw covered in dark stubble. Those once razor-sharp, commanding eyes now held nothing but emptiness and death.

Madeline stood outside her son's bedroom, watching him spiral into madness through the crack in the door, her heart aching violently.

Her only source of pride, the golden child envied by all of Metropolis, was utterly ruined.

And the culprit responsible for all of this was that dead bitch, Sienna!

Madeline's eyes brimmed with toxic venom.

She hated Sienna; she hated how, even in death, her ghost lingered to torture her son.

Over the past few months, the prolonged absence of the CEO had plunged The Gauthier Group into internal chaos. Stock prices plummeted, and rumors ran wild.

Madeline saw it all and burned with anxiety.

She had tried to reason with her son, only to be met with aggressive resistance and deeper isolation.

Just then, the butler hurried over, whispering a report in her ear.

"Madam, rumors are spreading outside. They're saying the daughter the Sullivans just found is the same artist, K, who rose to fame recently."

Madeline jolted.

The artist K?

Why?

Why was it that the wretched Sienna was dead, yet this woman could prance around the art world with a face just like hers, soaking up praise and adoration from everyone?

While her son was left rotting in hell!

A venomous scheme instantly sprouted in Madeline's mind.

She would not let the Sullivans live in peace. She was going to take her revenge and tear everything down!

She immediately thought of a pawn—someone pushed to the absolute brink, someone who harbored just as much hatred for Sienna.

The night was heavy and dark.

Madeline walked alone to the deepest part of the manor, stopping in front of a damp, pitch-black basement door. The foul stench of rot seeped through the cracks.

She pulled out a key and unlocked the heavy iron padlock.

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