He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 86

Knowing her personality, she would rather die than let anything happen to that baby.

And even if something had gone wrong, Sienna wouldn't have the right to keep breathing.

"Grant," Lyla tugged gently at his sleeve, tears falling perfectly on cue.

"Don't listen to him. He's just trying to drive a wedge between us... How could Sienna have a miscarriage? That's your baby..."

She played the denier, but inside, she was celebrating.

A miscarriage? Perfect. Sienna's absolute last bargaining chip was gone.

"Move," Lucas warned again, his patience entirely evaporated.

"I'm not moving." Grant had completely lost his grip on reality, acting like a rabid dog. "She is coming with me today. She belongs to the Gauthier family, and if she's going to die, she'll do it in my house."

He lunged forward, physically trying to shove Lucas out of the way to force the door open.

"Boss." The assistant turned pale and threw his arms around Grant, trying to pull him back. "Please calm down. The press is right downstairs. If you start a fight here, tomorrow's headlines will be—"

"Get off me." Grant shoved him away violently.

He didn't care about anything anymore. All he knew was that Sienna was his, and he refused to let Lucas take her from him.

Lucas watched the pathetic display, his eyes dropping a few degrees colder.

He turned slightly and gave a subtle nod to the two men in black suits flanking the doorway.

The bodyguards understood immediately, stepping forward to form an impenetrable wall of muscle.

"Grant," Lucas's voice was quiet, but it carried a terrifying, oppressive weight. "This is my final warning. If you try to pull a stunt in my hospital, I guarantee you will not be walking out of here on your own two feet."

Grant stared at the human barricade in front of him, then up at Lucas's deadly serious face. His chest he heave erratically.

He knew Lucas wasn't bluffing.

She wiped at her eyes, acting as if she had just made a heartbreaking sacrifice. "I'll go. I'll go talk to the reporters."

"Sienna is sick and shouldn't be forced to face them, so I'll explain things for her. I'll ask them to leave so they don't cause any more trouble for your family, or disturb her recovery."

Grant paused. "But your ankle..."

"It's fine," Lyla shook her head, looking up at him with tragic, beautiful eyes. "Compared to your family's reputation, my little injury is nothing. I genuinely just want to help her... and help you."

She delivered the lines flawlessly, playing the role of the selfless, understanding martyr to perfection.

Grant looked at her, his internal compass wildly shifting in her favor.

They were both women, but one was cowardly hiding in her hospital bed, refusing to face the music, while the other was willing to brave the press on a bad ankle just to ease his burdens.

The contrast was staggering. They were worlds apart.