"Mr. Grant." Her expression was calm, her tone respectful.
The man gave her a flat, indifferent glance. "I hear you haven’t been performing too well lately."
’Heard?’
’Heard from whom?’
’From Wanda Lynch?’
"I don’t understand what you an by ’not too well,’ Mr. Grant. In what aspect have I been underperforming?"
"Your Supervisor Lynch says that during your design process lately, you’ve been constantly searching for images online. Are you planning to plagiarize, or have you just... run out of ideas?"
Natalie Morgan was stunned.
She had indeed searched online, but she was looking up different types of flowers and their details.
’Is that considered plagiarism?’
’Wanda Lynch might not get it, but does Theodore Grant not understand either?’
"Then I’d like to ask you, Mr. Grant, for jewelry with a floral the, if I’m not supposed to look for flowers as reference material, what should I be looking for?"
"I think you know very well, Mr. Grant, that with Wanda Lynch’s skills and experience, she has no idea what constitutes a good design. Nor does she understand what kind of reference material is actually helpful."
Natalie Morgan’s words made Theodore Grant’s expression turn ugly. "Are you questioning my judgnt and my choice in personnel? Natalie Morgan, who gave you the right?"
Yes, she had no right.
She was just stating the facts.
"If there’s nothing else, Mr. Grant, I’ll be heading ho for the day."
She turned to leave.
But the man stopped her. "Tonight, co back to the family estate with . Claire is back."
’Claire Grant is back in the country?’
Although she and Claire Grant were on relatively good terms, she didn’t want to go back at all.
"I have plans tonight."
"Cancel them."
"Mr. Grant, my ti after work is my own."
He glanced at her coolly. "Don’t forget, you are still a daughter-in-law of the Grant family. It’s a family dinner tonight. You must attend."
When Theodore Grant made a decision, Natalie Morgan had no choice but to accept it unconditionally.
He picked up his jacket and took her hand. "Let’s go."
Natalie Morgan pulled her hand back.
A wave of disgust rose within her.
He saw the slight frown on her brow and lost his temper. "Natalie Morgan, you’d better not give that attitude."
"I’m not." Her voice was cold and dismissive.
Enraged, the man slamd the jacket he hadn’t yet put on onto the sofa, grabbed the woman, and dragged her into the break room.
The break room door slamd shut.
And Natalie Morgan was thrown onto the large bed.
"Theodore Grant, what are you doing? There should be a limit to your shalessness! We’re at the office."
She knew what he wanted to do.
She knew him even better—he never cared about anything.
But she couldn’t be like that.
He ripped off his tie and, with a hint of fury, unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. "Even if we were on the street, what could anyone say? Natalie Morgan, you rember your place."
At that mont, Natalie Morgan didn’t feel like the damn Mrs. Grant at all.
She was just a toy for Theodore Grant to use...
...whenever and wherever he pleased, regardless of whether she was willing.
He moved to kiss her lips, but she turned her face away.
So he simply grabbed her chin, forced her lips apart with his tongue, and entangled himself with her.
From anger to indulgence, once his desire was piqued, he cared for nothing else.
Natalie Morgan tried to push him away, but he pinned her wrists above her head.
He nibbled on her earlobe and asked, "Tell , who did you have plans with today?"
She bit her lip and said nothing.
Her eyes welled up with tears, making her look pitifully fragile.
He hated this stubborn look of hers and questioned her resentfully, "Who were you standing up that makes you dare to give this kind of attitude? Hmm?"
"What kind of attitude do you want from ?" Her hair was splayed across the pillows, her beautiful eyes shot with blood. "If you really want an attitude, go find Wanda Lynch. Don’t co to ."
"Tell , did you have plans with Felix Finch?" His large hand road over her neck, then suddenly tightened in a clear warning. "Hmm?"
"No."
"Really?" He squeezed harder, and Natalie Morgan cried out in pain. "Did you or not?"
"No, no, no!" She shook her head desperately, struggling wildly.
In her flailing, her hand touched sothing.
After a two-second pause, she raised a fruit knife high and stabbed toward the man’s heart.
Her wrist was caught.
The man was utterly shocked. "You want to kill ?"
Natalie Morgan had just grabbed the fruit knife by chance.
It wasn’t that she was determined to kill him; he had brought this upon himself.
With a slight exertion of force, the fruit knife fell from Natalie Morgan’s grasp.
All his desire vanished.
The man’s eyes were glacial.
He got up, dressed himself, and kicked the knife far away.
"Natalie Morgan, you’ve really got so nerve. You want to kill ? Do you even have what it takes?"
The woman, her legs trembling, shakily pulled on her clothes.
She had thought about it just now. If she couldn’t kill him, she would kill herself.
But... she hadn’t succeeded.
Theodore Grant was seething.
His chest heaved violently.
He raised his hand and swept a vase off a shelf.
"Fine. Just fine." He practically ground his teeth to dust. After smashing several more decorations, his sharp gaze fell upon the woman. "I really underestimated you, didn’t I? Trying to kill your own husband? Eager to be a widow?"
He roared.
Terrified, Natalie Morgan curled into a ball.
He suddenly grabbed the woman’s shoulders. His dark eyes, hidden in the dim light, looked all the more terrifying on his sharp, imposing face.
"Natalie Morgan, do you have any idea what the consequences are for doing this? Do you?" He grabbed her dark hair, forcing her to tilt her small face up. "Who taught you this? Who taught you to do this? Tell . Speak!"
At that mont, Theodore Grant was like a monster ready to devour everything in his path.
Natalie Morgan couldn’t answer. She didn’t even dare to look at him.
’When he gets like this, he’ll kill .’
After everything smashable in the room had been reduced to fragnts,
the man’s anger had only half subsided.
"I’ll let it slide this ti. But you’d better rember this, Natalie Morgan: if there is a next ti, your entire family will disappear from the face of the earth."
She hung her head, not saying a word.
A mont later.
Theodore Grant’s phone rang. He cald his breathing and answered, "Hello?"
"Theodore, when are you and Natalie getting here?" It was Claire Grant’s voice on the other end.
Theodore Grant glanced at the disheveled woman. "We’ll be there soon."
"Hurry up, okay? Everyone’s waiting for you. Grandpa is in especially good spirits today; he’s already asked about you several tis."
"Got it."
After hanging up,
he took a few more deep breaths, then his gaze fell on Natalie Morgan as he dialed a number.
"Go buy a suit set and bring it back. Size S."
Half an hour later, Noelle Bell knocked on the break room door, holding a Chanel bag. "Mr. Grant, I’ve brought the clothes."
"Leave them outside."
"Understood."
Noelle Bell didn’t know who the clothes were for.
From what she could tell, it wasn’t a size Wanda Lynch could wear.
’Could it be? Does Mr. Grant have another woman?’
Theodore Grant brought the clothes into the break room and tossed them to Natalie Morgan. "Change, then co with to the family estate."
She remained silent.
He snapped in irritation, "Do you want to help you?"
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