The night deepened.
The car interior was silent.
In the back seat, Noah Grant held a smoldering ember between his fingers.
A breeze slipped through the crack in the car window, dispersing wisps of smoke.
He squinted, gazing at the fleeting lights outside the window while an expert’s confident diagnosis played over and over in his mind:
"Within three months, walking won’t be a problem."
This voice clashed fiercely with other experts’ sighs of "incurable" and "lifelong impact."
The cigarette butt was harshly extinguished in the ashtray.
The blue light of the phone screen lit up, reflecting his tense jawline.
"It’s ." The man’s cold and deep voice cut through the silence. "Help check a few bank transactions from the past six months... roughly from November last year to now, anything suspicious involving the Kane Group or Ian Kane’s private accounts. Clean them out."
Vera Sheridan injured her foot last November.
"I’ll send you the list later."
The call ended.
Noah Grant’s fingertips slid across the screen, dialing Vera Sheridan’s number once more.
The response was still a busy signal.
Hollow, prolonged.
...
The Sovereign, V9 private room.
Vera Sheridan capped her pen and looked up from the two open agreents in front of her with an icy scrutiny.
An intense male presence suddenly enveloped her, mixed with the scents of tobacco and strong liquor.
Ian Kane’s tall fra leaned over her imposingly, his hands braced on the edges of the coffee table beside her, trapping her between the table and his warm chest.
The distance between them closed instantly, close enough to feel his chest rise and fall, his breath brushing over the top of her head.
This sudden intimate posture caused Vera Sheridan’s body to stiffen abruptly, her nerves taut.
Ian Kane’s lips curled into an arrogant smile, his eyes flashing with excitent as his cold, pale fingers leisurely turned the agreent pages.
Conveying an air of complete control.
Vera Sheridan looked indifferent, her voice laced with sarcasm, "Is it amusing to use scheming to trap a woman who despises you?"
Ian Kane’s fingers paused, his face darkening as his eyelids narrowed. A surge of bitterness rose in his chest, but his lips still twisted into a sneer.
"Of course, it’s amusing. You’re still my wife. Noah Grant... he’ll never have you."
His voice fell as he violently flipped through the agreent, finally reaching the last page.
Where the signature line read, "In your dreams!" The words were etched with force, boldly invading his vision!
In black and white, her silent rebellion against him!
Ian Kane’s pupils contracted, a storm suddenly brewing in his dark eyes, various emotions surged and intertwined, finally turning into a mass of bewildernt.
Did she despise him to the extre, or did she... not really care that much about Noah Grant?
Vera Sheridan stood up to leave, Ian Kane recovered, his iron-grip hand forcefully pressed her shoulder, shoving her back into the seat.
"Aren’t you afraid Noah Grant will be ruined?" The man’s voice was hoarse.
"Do you dare go against The Grant Family?" Vera Sheridan snorted coldly in retort.
Ian Kane froze for a mont, instantly realizing what she ant.
She actually thought he wouldn’t dare take on Noah Grant.
The man’s molars clenched, and then, with a "snort."
Ian Kane let out a twisted laugh from his throat, suddenly cupping her half-cheek with a palm, his knuckles turning white with force.
"You want both the fish and the bear’s paw? Vera Sheridan, you truly make feel estranged! Always denouncing infidelity, yet we haven’t even divorced..."
His eyes were bloodshot, the venom of jealousy nearly bursting forth as he suddenly pressed his face against hers, his scorching breath spilling into her ear:
"I ask you! When Noah Grant kissed you that day, were you conscious? Did you enjoy it, hmm?!" The last note was nearly a roar, simultaneously he opened his mouth, venting, and viciously bit her tender earlobe!
"Ugh!" Vera Sheridan winced in pain, tears springing to her eyes, "Ian Kane, let go!"
"You were really conscious..." he tasted a hint of blood between his teeth, the flavor agitated him, snapping the last thread of his sanity. His chest heaving, he gritted his teeth.
"Vera Sheridan, I really underestimated you, betraying our marriage body and soul. Tell , these days living at The Grant Family, have you been spending every night with him—"
"Bang!"
A dull yet piercing noise interrupted his mad questioning.
Vera Sheridan picked up the heavy bottle of Royal Salute, using all her strength, she smashed it down on him!
Ian Kane suddenly froze in place.
Vera Sheridan seized the opportunity, pushing his heavy fra away with force, staggering as she broke free from his arms, struggling to stand upright.
Without a glance, she tossed the bottle onto the low table, making a clattering sound.
Ian Kane clutched his head, dark red seeping through his fingers, his tall figure swaying before he steadied himself.
He looked up, his dark eyes glaring at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Vera Sheridan suppressed the tallic taste in her throat and the trembling in her fingers, casting him a cold glance, straightening her back, she walked step by step, firmly towards the room’s exit.
"Fine!" Behind her ca his hoarse and distorted voice, each word dripping with madness and malice, "I was just wondering how to eliminate Noah Grant... Vera Sheridan, by not looking back, you’ve given this chance."
Vera Sheridan’s fists clenched tightly at her side, her nails digging deep into her palms, bringing sharp pain.
She didn’t pause nor turn back, but that slender back straightened even more, she finally reached the door and with all her strength, slamd the heavy door shut with a "bang!"
The door panel isolated the suffocating space behind her.
Vera Sheridan leaned against the cold wall, her trembling hands fumbled through her bag, pulling out her phone to contact Noah Grant.
She didn’t want to give up the freedom that was within her grasp.
She wanted to ask if that photo truly affected him and The Grant Family.
The screen lit up, but there was no signal.
Only after leaving The Sovereign did the signal finally reach full strength.
She quickly found Noah Grant’s number and was about to call.
Just then, a robust, powerful-looking Hongqi limousine glided steadily to a stop before her.
The rear window’s anti-peep glass slowly rolled down.
Revealing half a delicately made-up, elegantly poised noblewoman’s face.
It was Mrs. Grant, Noah Grant’s mother.
Rosalind Morgan.
eting her scrutinizing gaze, Vera Sheridan instinctively tightened her grip on her phone.
Her intuition told her she was here for her.
And it was about the photo.
By this ti, the sharply dressed chauffeur had silently walked around the car front, standing before her.
He bowed slightly, respectfully, "Miss Vera, my madam invites you into the car."
Vera Sheridan didn’t refuse.
When she had temporarily stayed at the Grant Family Estate before, her encounters with Rosalind Morgan were few, and she wasn’t very familiar, yet the noblewoman’s aura of aloofness and occasional words left a profound impression on her.
Once, she passed through the garden corridor and overheard Rosalind Morgan instructing the butler Old Man Zane.
"...Anyone around Noah must have a clean background, with equal upbringing. Pay close attention so those... girls without proper pedigree don’t think they can seize any opportunity."
Even at just a teenage Vera, she had realized that in Mrs. Grant’s eyes, "pedigree" and "propriety" were iron rules above all else, any girl trying to cross this line to get close to Noah Grant was deed "unqualified."
Vera Sheridan sat in the back seat, greeting her politely, her deanor neither humble nor overbearing, her back straight as a rod, seemingly silently resisting the intangible pressure within the car.
The dim light softened Rosalind Morgan’s overly elegant facial contours, she smiled gently, her tone warm, "Miss Sheridan, you’ve been wronged..."
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