After that, Cyrus Sawyer brought out several more masterpieces by famous artists, one after another.
All of them quite old.
Honestly, Natalie Morgan had never seen such a dense collection of forgeries.
’Doesn’t a big-shot CEO like him own a single authentic piece?’
’Or maybe, he just wants to sell Theodore Grant a fake.’
"Your collection is quite impressive, Mr. Sawyer. They would certainly make for excellent decorative pieces to hang at ho," Natalie Morgan said, offering him a way to save face.
Cyrus Sawyer couldn’t help but let his gaze fall on Natalie Morgan’s face again. He paused for three or four seconds, then chuckled. "If you like them, Miss Morgan, I can give you a few."
"Thank you, Mr. Sawyer. I appreciate the thought."
Amidst the pleasantries, Theodore Grant understood.
He hadn’t cared whether the paintings Cyrus Sawyer was selling him were real or fake when he ca here.
Business partnerships were always like this.
The hundred million he spent today could bring in billions later.
The artwork was rely a ans of transaction.
What he hadn’t expected was that Natalie Morgan could actually tell the difference between a real and a fake.
"Mr. Grant, your little designer here is quite capable." Cyrus Sawyer was just about to try and poach her when Theodore Grant cut him off. "Don’t even think about it, Mr. Sawyer. She’s taken."
"Is that so?" Cyrus Sawyer smiled, his gaze still glued to Natalie Morgan. "What a sha."
When they left, Theodore Grant still spent twenty million, buying sothing to give Cyrus Sawyer face.
On the drive back.
His long, slender hand with its well-defined knuckles propped up his chin as he turned to look at her. "That Franklin Farrell painting, how did you know it was a forgery?"
"From the linework, the brushwork, the three-dinsional feel of the contours and shading—it wasn’t hard to tell. The paper was also artificially aged, and the seals were stamped ssily. Among forgeries, it was a rather poor attempt."
This knowledge, etched into her mory, made her seem to glow with a faint light.
It was the first ti he had ever listened so closely and earnestly to her analysis of a painting.
His expression softened. "It seems I didn’t know you well enough before."
She t his gaze, her face expressionless. "There’s no need for that."
’When they first married, she had tried desperately to understand him, to beco part of his life. She had longed to be understood, to be seen, to be cherished.’
’But he had never given her the chance.’
’His mind was always on either the Grant Group or Wanda Lynch. For her, besides disgust, he mostly showed impatience.’
’The only thing he was ever serious about with her was revenge, wasn’t it?’
’So, she wouldn’t have any reaction, not even a flutter in her heart, to the tenderness he was now offering.’
’A dead heart is dead for good.’
She gazed blankly out the car window.
She was quiet, serene. The slight flutter of her long eyelashes was enough to make his Adam’s apple bob.
Suddenly, the car’s privacy partition rose.
He cupped the back of her head and moved in to kiss her.
She struggled to push him away, not saying a word, just glaring.
He suddenly laughed. "That look in your eyes isn’t very cute."
"I was never Mr. Grant’s sweetheart to begin with. Does it matter whether I’m cute or not?"
He shrugged slightly and sneered, "You’re right, it doesn’t matter."
A phone rang.
She glanced at Theodore Grant’s phone. Wanda Lynch’s na was flashing on the screen.
Natalie Morgan turned her head away.
"Hello?"
"Theodore, where are you?" the woman on the other end of the line suddenly burst into tears. "I’m so scared. The house is on fire, there’s so much smoke... My eyes, my eyes... I can’t see."
Theodore Grant’s expression changed instantly.
His previously relaxed body tensed as he sat up straight. "What’s happening?"
"I don’t know... COUGH, COUGH... Everything’s dark in front of . Theodore, co quickly! Ah—!" From the other end of the line ca the sound of soone tumbling down the stairs, followed by the woman’s piercing scream.
The privacy partition lowered, and he spoke urgently to the driver, "Turn around. Go to the Lynch Residence."
Just as the car turned around, Theodore Grant imdiately shouted, "Stop! You, get out."
His gentle deanor was gone, replaced by a sudden coldness in his eyes as he gave the order.
Natalie Morgan gave him a look, then pushed open the door and got out of the car.
’Just like always. One phone call from Wanda Lynch, and he would abandon her without a second thought.’
’When they were first married, she would have cried. She would have thrown a fit. She would have angrily demanded to know why he did this to her.’
Now.
She was used to it. It didn’t matter anymore.
Standing by the side of the road, she tried to hail a cab, but after a long wait, not a single car passed by.
A white BMW screeched to a halt beside her.
The window rolled down, revealing Sean Lane’s face.
"What a coincidence." He took off his sunglasses, grinning at her.
Natalie Morgan didn’t want to deal with him. She looked down at her phone, opening an app to call a car.
Sean Lane got out of the driver’s seat and, with his hands in his pockets, walked up to Natalie Morgan. "Hard to get a cab here? Don’t tell Theodore Grant ditched you here again? Rushing off to see... Wanda Lynch, was it?"
"Sean Lane, you’d better stay away from ," she said with disgust.
Instead of getting angry, Sean Lane just laughed, seemingly in a good mood. "eting like this is fate. I’ll give you a ride."
"That won’t be necessary."
"Oh, co on. I wanted to talk to you... about how your father ended up in prison. How much did he suffer in there? Was it suicide, or was he murdered?" Sean Lane appeared casual, but his gaze was fixed intently on Natalie Morgan’s face. "I know a lot of inside details, you know."
Natalie Morgan’s eyes slowly narrowed.
She looked at the man before her, a man whose character was just as vile as Theodore Grant’s.
As if she could finally take no more, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face.
"Sean Lane, my brother is out now, and you’re still trying to use my father’s death? What do you want from ? Or... are you trying to use my hatred for Theodore Grant to achieve sothing?"
Five pink finger marks stood out on Sean Lane’s fair face.
He worked his jaw. After a brief mont of shock, a smile returned to his lips. "You think just because your brother’s been released, his life is free and clear? Wanda Lynch could accuse him of rape at any ti, and Theodore Grant can still have Thomas Morgan killed just as easily."
"So?"
"So, the one who can help you is ." Sean Lane pointed to himself, the cynical smile vanishing from his face. "Natalie Morgan, we have a common enemy. If Theodore Grant really was the one who frad your father back then, don’t you want revenge?"
He walked toward her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don’t refuse . I really want to help you."
"Don’t touch ." She pushed Sean Lane away as if she had touched sothing filthy. "I don’t believe you would help , and I don’t need your help."
"Why don’t you believe ?"
Natalie Morgan’s expression was placid. She let out a small, knowing laugh. "Because when it cos to being despicable and shaless, you and Theodore Grant are evenly matched."
Sean Lane laughed again.
He turned and shook his head, then looked back at Natalie Morgan. "You’ll need to build your trust in ."
"I’m not interested."
Natalie Morgan started to walk away.
’She didn’t want to be around Sean Lane. He was like a Datura flower—gorgeous and vibrant, but capable of causing paralysis.’
’Danger is danger, whether to man or beast.’
"Hey, Natalie Morgan!" Sean Lane called out from behind her. "I really have proof that Theodore Grant frad your father. I can give it to you, free of charge. Do you want it?"
Natalie Morgan stopped in her tracks.
’She wanted it.’
’She wanted it desperately.’
’But could she trust him?’
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