The sensual, intimate scene crashed into Byron Quincy’s line of sight.
His pupils constricted. In shock, his fingers dug into the armrest of the sofa.
This sort of thing was hardly surprising between a grown man and woman.
But it just had to be Natalie Morgan.
He felt a knife twist in his heart.
She was his idealized love, the one he could never have. For years, he had yearned to see her but never dared to approach.
’She shouldn’t...’
’At least, she shouldn’t be doing sothing like this with a man like Theodore Grant.’
His fantasy shattered in an instant.
Yet the lingering warmth was enough to sear him.
The man blinked his stinging eyes, tore his gaze away, and, picking up the glass of red wine on the table, drained it in one gulp.
Inside the restroom, their tryst continued.
He pinned her down, changing their position. The woman raised her hand and slapped him. "Theodore Grant, aren’t you done yet?"
Theodore Grant was at the height of his passion, and the slap sobered him up considerably.
His flushed face instantly turned cold.
"Getting addicted to hitting ?" He lifted her up and pressed her against the cold wall, his voice vicious but laced with lust. "Hit again, and I’ll fuck you to death."
"There are so many guests outside. Do you really not care about your reputation?" Not knowing how else to make him stop, she reluctantly wrapped her arms around his neck and pleaded softly, "Stop... please, I’m begging you."
Natalie Morgan knew Theodore Grant was a hard case.
If she really made a scene with him here, he would throw all caution to the wind. In the end, she would be the only one who got hurt.
"Okay?" She tilted her head back to look at him, her glistening eyes like a small white flower battered by a storm—trembling on the verge of collapse, stirring one’s pity. His heart softened in an instant. "Seeing as you’re begging , I’ll let you go this ti."
Natalie Morgan scrambled off him in a near panic and straightened her clothes in front of the mirror.
The scent of their intimate encounter inevitably clung to her.
She cupped so water in her hands and splashed it on her face.
The man leaned against the wall behind her, watching her with his arms crossed.
A faint, barely perceptible smile played on his lips. If she hadn’t begged him to stop, in his current state, he would have surely gone on until he’d had his fill.
Natalie Morgan fled the restroom.
Over by the sofa.
There was no sign of Byron Quincy.
Instead, Noelle Bell was sitting there, leisurely eating so fruit.
"Finished already?" Noelle Bell said, crossing her legs and letting out a disdainful snort. "Byron Quincy probably saw you and Mr. Grant getting busy in the restroom. He drank a lot and staggered off."
’Byron Quincy saw?’
’That wasn’t really surprising.’
’Theodore Grant forced himself on in there precisely so Byron Quincy would see, didn’t he?’
’He always uses such underhanded thods to make people sick.’
Natalie Morgan’s expression remained composed; she refused to give Noelle Bell the dramatic reaction she was hoping for. "Since the contract is signed, I’ll be going."
She was too calm.
Noelle Bell shot her a sidelong glance. ’How shaless.’
She tossed aside the half-eaten lon seeds in her hand. "Did Mr. Grant tell you?"
"Tell what?"
"Miss Lynch is having surgery. She needs to rest up, so he wants you to go take care of her for a few days." This was what Wanda Lynch had told Noelle Bell.
As far as Noelle Bell was concerned, if Wanda Lynch made a request, Theodore Grant was certain to grant it.
Natalie Morgan furrowed her brow.
’Theodore hadn’t ntioned this to .’
’Even if he had, I wouldn’t have agreed.’
Turning away, she ignored Noelle Bell and walked off.
Noelle Bell scoffed.
...
Theodore Grant had just stepped out of the restroom when he received a sudden call from Weller Kendall.
"Mr. Grant, Yulia White’s condition is very bad." Weller Kendall’s voice was unusually tense.
Theodore Grant gripped his phone and sat down on the sofa. "Tell everything, slowly."
"During resuscitation, a doctor increased her dication dosage without authorization. The patient had an adverse reaction and is now in critical condition. I’m afraid..."
Theodore Grant’s expression tightened, and he shot up from the sofa. "What?"
The car sped through the streets.
It reached rcy Hospital in record ti.
Before the car had even co to a complete stop, Weller Kendall was jogging over. "Mr. Grant, Yulia White is in critical condition. Dr. Finch is suggesting we use that imported drug. That way, there might be a chance she’ll wake up."
"Felix Finch is here?" A sneer touched Theodore Grant’s lips. "He really does turn up everywhere. And if we don’t use the drug? We just let her die?"
"Without the drug, she could die at any mont. But if we use it, there are also risks..."
To put it bluntly, it was a long shot.
It was an impossible choice.
By then, Theodore Grant had already walked into the doctors’ office.
The doctors all wore grim expressions.
Felix Finch stood and walked over to Theodore Grant, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "What do you think? Maybe we should call Natalie."
On a matter of life and death like this, Natalie Morgan had the right to be here and make the final decision.
"Dr. Finch, you’ve been practicing for so many years. Do you have to ask the family’s opinion for everything? Don’t you have a mind of your own?" Theodore Grant’s brow was heavy as he looked at him with derision. "Or are you just afraid to take responsibility?"
"I’ve been overseeing Yulia White’s case from the beginning, so naturally I understand her current condition better than anyone. But for a matter of life and death, I can’t be the one to make the call."
Given Yulia White’s condition, a poor outco was highly likely.
"Use the drug. I’ll bear the consequences." He signed his na on the line for next of kin.
Back at her office, Natalie Morgan’s right eyelid wouldn’t stop twitching.
Her afternoon was packed with etings.
She had just been promoted, and she was so busy adapting to her new workload that she didn’t have ti to think about much else.
Then, Felix Finch called her.
"Hello?"
"Natalie, you need to co to the hospital. Your mom..." He didn’t know how to break the news to her. "...Just get here first."
"Are you at the hospital?" Natalie Morgan pulled off the small piece of paper she’d stuck to her eyelid, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door. "Okay, I’ll be right there."
A terrible premonition gnawed at Natalie Morgan.
’Everything will be fine,’ she told herself. ’Her condition had clearly been improving.’
She didn’t expect to see Theodore Grant at the hospital as well.
With no ti to think about anything else, she asked Felix Finch directly, "Felix, my mom... how is she?"
"Your mother..." He looked apologetic, helpless. "...You should see this."
When she read the final diagnosis—brain death—all the strength drained from Natalie Morgan’s body. Like a puppet with its soul torn out, she collapsed onto the cold floor.
’How could this have happened?’
A pang of sorrow hit Felix Finch. He started to reach out to help her up, but after seeing Theodore Grant’s piercing glare, he pulled his hand back.
Weller Kendall crouched down, attempting to help Natalie Morgan up. "Mrs. Grant, the doctors did their best. Please, try not to be so grief-stricken."
"Why did this happen?" she sat there numbly, murmuring over and over, "Why did this happen..."
Theodore Grant strode in front of Natalie Morgan and looked down at her, a faint, unreadable complexity in his eyes.
"It is what it is. You’d best calm down and think about what cos next."
"Was it you?" She looked up, her eyes swimming with tears as her lips trembled. "You let her die, didn’t you? You want a kidney for Wanda Lynch, so my mom had to beco brain dead, right?"
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