"Why would I do sothing like that? Do I have nothing better to do?"
She shook her head, crying, her vision blurring behind a wall of tears. "Unless the real killer is found, then you’re the murderer. You and Wanda Lynch are both murderers. Both of you."
"Fine." It was the first ti he’d been so wrongly accused, and he was furious. "Even if the police can’t find the truth, I’ll get you the truth. When that ti cos, don’t you co crying and begging for my forgiveness."
"Get out! Get out..."
The door slamd shut.
Theodore Grant stord downstairs.
Wanda Lynch, who had been lurking in the shadows, approached him on her crutch.
"Theodore."
The man didn’t even look at her. He pulled a cigarette from its case, placed it between his lips, and lowered his head to light it.
Wisps of smoke drifted through the air, making his handso profile appear all the more profound and sensual.
"Theodore, is Natalie okay?" Wanda Lynch sat down carefully beside Theodore. "She’s blaming , but I don’t mind. She lost her mother; it’s only normal for her to be this upset. I understand."
The man took a deep drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke swirl in his mouth before slowly exhaling. Through the gray-white haze, he looked into the woman’s sowhat hazy eyes. "And what about you?"
She stared at him, surprised, a flash of panic in her eyes. She clearly hadn’t expected such a question and stamred, "? I... what?"
"Yulia White was Natalie Morgan’s mother. Wasn’t she your mother, too? So why don’t I see even a hint of sadness from you?" He raised his hand and gripped Wanda Lynch’s slightly stiff, filler-injected chin. "Tell . Does this really have nothing to do with you?"
"Theodore, you don’t believe either?" Tears instantly began to stream down her face, her lips trembling. "Is there no trust left between us?"
He stared into her inscrutable eyes for a mont before slowly pulling his hand away. He plucked the cigarette from his lips, took a long drag, and exhaled a plu of gray smoke.
He leaned back slowly against the sofa, a barely perceptible smile touching the corners of his lips.
’Trust?’
’For him, the word was becoming increasingly vague, more and more elusive.’
’He was beginning to feel as if he could never truly see through the woman before him.’
"Wanda Lynch, the person who gave that portrait all those years ago... was it really you?"
After that girl gave him the portrait, he had searched the world for her.
But a re two days later, Wanda Lynch had shown up at his door on her own.
She was even wearing an identical sun shirt, the sa baseball cap, and her hair in the sa high ponytail as the girl from that day.
And he had believed her.
He’d treated her like a priceless treasure.
’Was it really her?’
Suddenly, he raised his hand, covering the lower half of her face.
Wanda Lynch grew flustered and turned her face away. "Theodore, are you just looking for an excuse because you don’t love anymore?"
The next second, she covered her face and began to cry.
She sobbed and hiccuped, as if the entire world was conspiring against her.
"It’s okay, Theodore. If you don’t love , I won’t bla you. I can’t give you the perfect life you want. My health is poor, I can’t have children... It’s only right for you to find disgusting. Go and love soone else. I won’t bla you."
Wanda Lynch unsteadily pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her crutch.
She thought Theodore would stop her and explain that of course he still loved her.
But...
He didn’t.
He continued to take slow, intermittent puffs of his cigarette.
Her whole tragic performance had been for nothing.
"Well, Theodore, I’ll be going then. I’ll just find so random place to stay. My ho burned down, after all, so it’s gone. I’ll just find anywhere that can offer shelter from the wind and rain. It doesn’t have to be nice. My life has always been hard. I’m very strong."
She finished, her voice choked with sobs.
She snuck a glance at the man. Still no reaction.
Wanda Lynch began to limp toward the door. "It’s gotten very dark outside, but you don’t need to worry about . I’m not afraid of the dark. Besides, there are more good people than bad in this world. You don’t have to worry about getting bullied. Really, Theodore, I..."
Before she could finish her sentence...
Theodore Grant grabbed his jacket, stood up, and left.
Wanda Lynch’s heart clenched, and she hurriedly called out, "Theodore..."
He walked on as if he hadn’t heard a thing, completely ignoring her call.
Wanda Lynch stomped her foot in frustration.
’He really doesn’t care about anymore.’
’He’d never once suspected she wasn’t the idealized love of his past.’
’Natalie Morgan must have bewitched him.’
’No. I can’t let Natalie Morgan steal Theodore from .’
...
「Grant Group.」
Theodore Grant sat before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the bustling city traffic below.
From here, he could look out over the entire city.
He was its undisputed king.
Weller Kendall poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him. "Mr. Grant."
Theodore Grant gestured with his fingers. "Just leave it there."
"Are you still thinking about Yulia White’s murder?" Weller Kendall had spent the entire day at the police station and had gathered so useful information. "The police said they’re taking this very seriously. They’ve pulled a lot of surveillance footage. The murderer should be caught soon."
Theodore Grant believed that.
He just hoped he could find the truth first to clear his na in Natalie Morgan’s eyes.
"There’s a mole in the hospital. Make that the focus of the investigation."
"Yes."
...
「Three days later.」
Yulia White was laid to rest.
The sky was overcast, and the wind was biting cold.
The cetery parking lot was unusually full, with several luxury cars parked within.
In addition to Theodore Grant, Felix Finch and Byron Quincy were there. Even Sean Lane had arrived.
Natalie Morgan clutched the funeral urn, walking step by step into the cetery.
Felix Finch and Serena Sutton were by her side.
Byron Quincy followed behind them, holding a bouquet of white daisies.
Theodore Grant watched from a distance.
He didn’t approach. Leaning against the side of his car, he held a cigarette between his lips, smoking it slowly.
Sean Lane, who hadn’t gotten out of his car, smugly sent Theodore Grant a text.
"My dear brother, all of your rivals have co to pay their respects to your mother-in-law. How co the ’official’ husband doesn’t dare to step up?"
The ssage was both provocative and gloating.
If it weren’t for the somber occasion, Theodore Grant would have beaten Sean Lane to a pulp.
Natalie Morgan placed the urn into the grave.
’Her parents were finally reunited.’
’And she had finally beco an orphan.’
Serena Sutton put her arm around Natalie’s shoulder, comforting her softly. "Your mom can finally rest now."
"My mom must be happy, right? She’s finally with my dad again." Natalie smiled, but tears stread down her face as she struggled to control the trembling of her lips. "But, Claire... my mom didn’t leave this world in one piece."
"I know." Serena Sutton hugged Natalie tightly, her heart aching for her as she gently rubbed her back. "This isn’t your fault. They’ll definitely catch the murderer. Your mom’s spirit in heaven won’t let those demons get away with this."
"That’s right, Natalie. The police will definitely catch the murderer," Byron Quincy added as he stepped forward to place his flowers before the headstone.
After that, a heavy silence fell over the group.
Natalie Morgan just kept staring at the headstone, tears falling silently.
Serena Sutton wanted to say sothing to console her.
But she herself was so heartbroken she could barely speak, so how could she possibly comfort Natalie?
The other three left early, giving Natalie so ti alone with her parents.
Serena Sutton was walking in the lead. As she was leaving the cetery, she looked up and saw Theodore Grant.
’Natalie said Yulia White’s death was tied to Theodore Grant. How did he have the nerve to show his face here?’
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