Seeing his insincere manner, Nathan Grant frowned disdainfully, nodding towards the curtains, "It’s all used up, the painkillers were taken, and the injections too, can’t overdo it."
"Mom’s heart can’t take it."
Noah Grant’s expression grew darker, "It’s living hell."
Leaving these words, he turned and exited the ward.
The door closed behind him as he dialed a number, speaking fluent German, "Dr. Schmidt, I need a pain managent plan that doesn’t affect heart function..."
...
When he returned to the ward, the curtain just happened to be pulled back.
The eyes of the three nurses about to leave lit up, their breaths catching.
The two noble scions, one lazily leaning against the wall, the other dignified and mature, weren’t just dominatingly handso compared to the male stars of entertainnt circles, but crucially, they exuded an innate nobility and silent authority that those stars could never reach.
They quickly lowered their heads, not daring to look any longer, and swiftly left.
Rosalind Morgan noticed the nurses’ reactions without surprise, a habitual proud arc lifting her lips.
Her three sons, wherever they went, always left a breathtaking impact.
At one ti, she, Rosalind Morgan, also considered nurturing them into successes her top priority.
Now, the one she was most proud of was the one she was most estranged from.
The arc on her lips gradually solidified, eventually turning into a faintly bitter taste.
"Mom." Nathan Grant picked up the bouquet of red carnations, walked to the bedside, "My brother ca to see you and bought you flowers!"
"Such a straightforward guy, a bit common, but the sentint was delivered."
Rosalind looked at the flowers, her heart tugging slightly.
No one knows a son better than a mother.
What straightforward thinking, he deliberately chose carnations representing mothers, when he knew exactly what flowers she loved! Noah Grant was clearly telling her their relationship was rely a biological mother-son connection, devoid of maternal warmth!
Underneath the covers, Rosalind’s hand grasped the sheet tightly, the wound on her back stinging like needles.
Noah Grant, standing a few steps away, looked at his mother in the hospital bed, his voice calm, "It was Vera who persuaded to co."
Rosalind flinched, a mocking, cold smile in her heart: What does a mother like count for in front of Vera Sheridan?
She moved her gaze from the flowers, not looking at Noah Grant, her voice emotionless: "Really? Then... I thank her."
"Nathan, I’m tired, show him out."
Nathan Grant, "..."
Mom got upset with that ancestor of a brother again!
Only to see the ancestor already leaving the ward.
Nathan Grant chased after him, "Noah Grant, you’d be better off not coming!"
As he spoke, he worriedly glanced back at the ward.
Noah Grant clenched his jaw, not turning back, "Vera asked to co."
Nathan Grant stood there choked, watching his haughty figure disappear around the hallway corner.
...
The elevator door opened, and Noah Grant stepped inside.
His tall figure made the cabin feel even more cramped, his imposing aura causing others inside to unconsciously step back half a step.
In the corner, a figure wrapped in a silk scarf and wearing large sunglasses instinctively shrank against the wall.
It was Vivian Langdon.
Upon recognizing Noah Grant, her breath hitched, gripping the edge of the scarf tightly, afraid it might slip off.
Days earlier, she was publicly humiliated, resulting in severe allergic reactions on her face, still swollen and unhealed, oozing pus, horrendously ugly.
She only prayed he wouldn’t recognize her.
When the elevator stopped midway with people hurriedly entering and exiting, she was jostled until, by ill luck, soone caught the edge of her dangling scarf.
"Ah!" Vivian gasped in panic, reaching out to grab it, but it was too late.
The scarf floated to the ground, revealing her swollen, broken, pus-discharge face to the public eye!
The air froze for an instant, followed by faint sounds of drawing breath.
All eyes simultaneously fixated on her with astonishnt and disgust, as if witnessing sothing filthy, causing everyone to instinctively back away.
Vivian raised her head abruptly, eting Noah Grant’s indifferent glance.
The man’s gaze bore no emotion, like looking at sothing irrelevant.
In that instant, imnse embarrassnt and sha engulfed her, wishing she could vanish on the spot.
In a fluster, she retrieved the scarf and haphazardly wrapped it around her head face trembling uncontrollably.
The elevator door opened again.
Noah Grant stepped out with his long strides, heading straight for the VIP ward area, without a backward glance.
Vivian stumbled out with the crowd, diving into a nearby fire escape.
Leaning against the cold wall, she mustered the courage to take out a mirror.
Seeing her unsightly face again, Noah Grant’s indifferent glance surfaced, making her tremble, her fist slamming fiercely against the wall.
It was all Vera Sheridan’s fault! She took away everything from her!
If not for her, how could she end up like this?
Losing the qualification for Lorraine, scorned by the entire internet, even... having that filthy stuff thrown on her face, turned into this wretched state!
Noah Grant was supposed to be hers! All those applauses, glory, adulation, they should have been hers!
After who knows how long, a phone’s ringtone pulled her back to reality.
She hung up the call, just stepping out of the fire escape, catching a familiar silhouette out of the corner of her eye.
It was Noah Grant.
He was walking down the corridor with a noticeably pregnant woman.
Vivian hid behind so foliage, carefully observing until convinced this stranger she had never seen before.
At that mont, the pregnant woman’s foot seed to trip, and Noah Grant imdiately reached out to steady her arm, looking down with apparent concern.
Then, he knelt down on one knee, considerately tying the pregnant woman’s shoelace!
Vivian clenched her hand, a wild thought racing through her mind, her lips curling into a cold sneer: Vera Sheridan, you’re not the winner either!
She trembled as she raised her phone, taking photos of the pair continuously.
...
In the apartnt, a pot of soup simred on the kitchen stove.
Vera Sheridan, in yoga attire, sat on a mat in the workout room, rolling a Wolf Fang Club over her thigh.
Her phone chid with a text notification, prompting her to pick it up.
"Ms. Sheridan, are you aware that Second Master Grant, as honorable as he appears, has secretly had a child with another woman?"
The familiar style, as if a lifeti ago, stunned Vera Sheridan.
Once, it was a similar text that exposed the pus under the façade of her perfect marriage.
Now...
Without much thought, Vera swiftly clicked on the link in the ssage.
It redirected to her email.
In the photos, Noah Grant kneeled, tying the shoelace of a pregnant woman whose face was blurred.
Vera’s breath caught, her stomach dropping slightly, then as if nothing happened, she enlarged the photo, scrutinizing the woman’s face, confirming she didn’t recognize her.
The next, Bernheim, St. Mary’s Hospital, Noah Grant and the sa pregnant woman walking side by side, his expression grave.
The following, Bernheim Airport, Noah Grant pushing a luggage cart, the pregnant woman following closely, her hand unconsciously protecting her belly.
Vera froze, her ears suddenly echoing that night, a faint female voice: "Noah."
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