Holly Ziegler looked at Ethan Grant in shock, and instinctively moved aside, quietly standing up to step to the side.
A woman’s sixth sense is very accurate; it’s quite easy to see through whether a man has malicious intent.
At least Ethan Grant, right now, had no ill intentions.
Beside them, several managers exchanged shocked glances, wondering who on earth Yvette Aston really was.
President Jennings personally ca to deliver breakfast, and Ethan Grant personally ca to appease her.
Now, everyone was tense, beginning to think carefully about how to reasonably and properly deal with Yvette Aston in the future.
"Mr. Grant... everyone is watching." Christopher Carter stood by, completely at a loss. In this place that was crowded and full of eyes, here he was, a grand CEO, the heir of Grant Group, actually lowering himself to pacify a woman.
Seeing Ethan reach out his hand to her, Yvette Aston reflexively wanted to lift hers.
But halfway, Yvette withdrew it again, instinctively distancing herself from Ethan, slowly moving away by herself. "Sorry..."
Cringing as she apologized to the managers, Yvette then turned to apologize to Ethan. "Sorry."
"Co with ." Ethan grabbed Yvette’s wrist, intending to take her away.
The burn on the back of her hand had almost healed, but there was a circular burn not far from her lower eyelid, quite eye-catching.
People in the club could all tell how that injury ca about—it was a cigarette burn.
Yvette’s face was too clean and flawless, yet so pale, without any blood, making the burn mark glaringly obvious.
"What happened to your face?" Ethan asked.
Yvette felt uneasy wanting to break away from Ethan, the feeling of being the center of attention terrified her.
Seeing Yvette remain silent, Ethan did not press further, retrieving so burn ointnt from the car to hand it to Yvette.
Yvette hesitated, glanced at the ointnt, and then looked up at Ethan.
He actually had burn ointnt in the car, because of her hand...
Shaking her head at herself, Yvette mockingly lowered her head in self-ridicule, fanciful thinking, as if that was possible.
"Aren’t you afraid of leaving a scar?" Seeing Yvette not apply the ointnt, Ethan casually asked.
He wasn’t very good at talking to won, but he wanted Yvette to lower her guard.
But Yvette shrank back tightly.
She shook her head and smiled at Ethan.
That smile... carried seventy percent self-mockery.
How could she be afraid of leaving scars, she was already full of ruts, except for this skin, inside she was already festering and septic.
"Co back to ridia with , this ti I didn’t think it through enough." Ethan, who never took the initiative to admit his mistakes, acknowledged that Yvette had indeed taught him a lesson.
He was used to being aloof, never truly putting himself in soone else’s shoes.
Yvette shook her head.
She couldn’t go back; Henry Jennings had brought breakfast once, and now she was standing on the edge of a cliff, going back would be walking into a trap.
Ethan was capable, but he couldn’t protect her for life.
And she had nothing she could exchange equally with Ethan.
Henry, at least biologically, was Sumrs’ father, no matter what, she was already tied to him.
"Yvette, you’re not stupid." Ethan didn’t spell it out, giving Yvette ti to think.
What Henry’s goal was, Yvette surely knew.
During the trial five years ago, when she was imprisoned, Henry watched indifferently from the sidelines.
Even Ethan knew, soone with Yvette’s character would obviously work hard and reform well in prison, so why didn’t she even get a single chance at a reduced sentence?
Even Holly Ziegler was out six months early.
"The Chamber of Comrce banquet is in a week, I’ll be in Montville till the third of next month, before I leave, you have the chance," Ethan handed his business card to Yvette. "Think it over carefully."
Yvette held the business card, her fingers trembling.
This was the olive branch Ethan extended, but she didn’t know in what way to accept it.
Ethan was also a businessman, he wouldn’t extend kindness without a reason, similarly being kept, making unspeakable dirty deals, it was up to her to decide between Henry and Ethan.
"Mr. Grant is here to poach my people again?"
A black sedan stopped next to them, Henry Jennings got out and asked with deep aning.
"Just competition," Ethan replied calmly.
"If I recall correctly, Yvette should have been your brother’s forr fiancée." Henry pulled Yvette into his arms, smiling provocatively.
"As you said, forr," Ethan’s voice was low.
"Aren’t you afraid, Mr. Grant, of bad rumors spreading and ruining your reputation built in ridia for so many years," Henry was reminding Ethan that Yvette brought too much scandal, he’d better not get involved.
Yvette, head drooping, still heard the other layer of aning in the words.
She was the dirty one.
"What’s dirty are the rumors, and the human heart," Ethan said aningfully, and got into the car.
"Mr. Grant, I’m hosting a banquet tonight, let extend hospitality as the host," Henry said politely.
"President Jennings, thank you for the kind offer, but... you better manage the won around you well, lest your harem catch fire," Christopher Carter rushed over, glanced at Yvette, quickly got into the car to take Mr. Grant away.
This shouldn’t be dragged on, judging by the two bosses’ stance, they might start fighting any mont now.
Henry’s face darkened, his grip on Yvette’s shoulder slowly tightened. "From now on, you are not allowed to et with him."
Yvette lowered her head in pain, saying nothing.
Henry plucked the business card from Yvette’s hand, asking coolly, "Do you think I can’t protect you by myself?"
Yvette remained silent.
Henry threw the card away, clearly displeased.
"Henry, Lynn Chase... ca to trouble Ms. Aston," Ben Ziegler, standing to the side, quickly spoke up.
Henry paused, turning to look at Yvette. "Why didn’t you call ?"
Yvette still said nothing.
Henry understood in his heart that Yvette didn’t trust him, and she stayed vigilant and cautious at all tis.
"Yvette, only I can protect you always, understand?" Henry cupped her chin, his fingers lightly touching her cheek.
He wanted Yvette to be completely reliant on him, but now it seed more ti and ans were needed.
Yvette lowered her head, mumbling softly, "Always?"
How long was always.
Wasn’t the tiline of this so-called "always" decided unilaterally by him?
It could end at any mont, anyti, anywhere.
"Since Mr. Grant won’t honor us with his presence, let’s go ho then," Henry was not in the mood to continue dealing with those old faces in the business circle, he took Yvette and got into the car.
"What do you want for dinner? I’ll have soone bring it ho," Henry asked gently.
Yvette shrank into the corner by the car door, thinking for a mont. "I’ll cook myself, there are ingredients in the fridge."
Henry thought back to the breakfast that morning, the taste was quite good.
"When did you learn to cook?" Henry was curious.
The old Yvette never had this housewife aura, more like an ethereal fairy, leading people to mistakenly believe she grew up drinking dew.
"A year’s ti before prison..." Yvette’s voice was hoarse.
That year, was more terrifying than death.
It made her prefer prison rather than continue living outside.
Henry examined Yvette closely, after a while, he asked, "Before the trial, I asked you if you wanted to follow , you refused, do you regret it now?"
To Henry, those five years were wasted, smoothed down her sharp edges, endured plenty of grievances, and in the end, wasn’t it the sa result?
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