He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 62

He stood in the center of the lobby, his gaze sweeping the room.

It paused briefly when it landed on the three members of the Sawyer family.

"Samuel," Lucas said.

His voice wasn't loud, but it resonated clearly enough for everyone in the lobby to hear.

Samuel, who was currently being held up by two security guards, turned to look when he heard his name.

He didn't recognize him.

But the aura radiating from this man wasn't faked; it was built on a foundation of immense wealth.

Everything from his immaculate attire to his commanding presence screamed that he was no ordinary man, but someone with serious money.

Samuel's struggles lessened.

"Who are you?"

Lucas didn't answer.

He didn't even spare Samuel a glance, turning instead to the security guards with a polite but uncompromising tone.

"Let him go."

The guards exchanged uncertain looks, unsure of this man's background, but their grips instinctively loosened.

Taking the opportunity, Samuel shook out his wrinkled sleeves and tugged at his skewed collar, his movements laced with both the indignant anger of surviving a disaster and a shameless sense of entitlement.

Lucas withdrew his gaze and stepped forward unhurriedly. He stopped right in front of Samuel, looking down at him from a commanding height.

"You owe thirty million dollars, correct?"

Samuel's eyes darted around, vigilance and sheer greed surfacing on his face simultaneously.

"How do you know that?"

"I can pay it off for you." Lucas tossed the offer out as casually as if he were remarking on the nice weather.

The moment those words dropped, the lobby erupted into a buzzing frenzy of gossip.

"Thirty million? He said he'd pay off thirty million dollars?"

"Who is this guy? Throwing that kind of cash around?"

Samuel's eyes went wide, practically bulging out of his sockets, and his mouth fell open, momentarily forgetting how to speak.

"Are... are you serious?"

His strides were long, his leather shoes hitting the floor at a much more hurried pace than usual. Leo trailed behind him, having to jog just to keep up.

Grant's gaze shot straight past the Sawyer family, pinning directly onto Lucas.

The two men locked eyes across a distance of a dozen paces.

The temperature in the lobby plummeted, and the spectating employees instinctively shrank back to either side.

"Lucas Lowery."

Grant called out the name, every syllable squeezed through gritted teeth.

Lucas paused, glancing back at the newcomer with a faint smile, though it carried absolutely no warmth.

"Mr. Gauthier. What a coincidence."

Grant marched over, stopping only when there was barely three paces of distance left between them.

"What are you doing at my company?"

"Cleaning up someone's mess," Lucas drawled slowly, his tone dripping with blatant provocation.

"The kind of mess you clearly can't handle."