Mia Grant didn’t seem to hear what he was saying, still sobbing quietly.
After finally getting into the room, Yates Donovan kicked the door shut and, in a few swift strides, laid her on the large bed.
The weight on her body vanished. Mia Grant froze, her gaze lifting in a daze, only to et Yates Donovan’s intensely worried eyes.
While she was still stunned, he leaned down and gently kissed her red, swollen eyes.
"How are you even more delicate when you’re drunk? You can’t even handle a single sentence without pulling this act on ?"
Yates Donovan pinched her cheek. When he saw her lips tremble as if she were about to cry again, he imdiately surrendered. "Alright, alright, fine. I’ll stop talking. I’ll stop."
"Don’t cry." He let out a little sigh, grabbing a tissue from the side to wipe her tears. "Look at these precious tears falling. If you’re not heartbroken, I sure am."
"How about we talk for a bit? You can cry later. Just rest for a mont, okay?"
"I... I don’t want to talk... to you anymore." She turned her head away.
But Yates Donovan wasn’t angry. A fond, doting smile surfaced in his eyes.
’This stubborn little temper of hers...’
Mia Grant whipped her head around and glared at him.
He froze for a second before quickly changing his tune. "It’s exactly my type. I love it when you give the cold shoulder."
Mia Grant frowned.
"The more you ignore , the more I like you."
Mia Grant pouted and asked with earnest concern, "Is there sothing wrong with you?"
Usually, when she said that, it was dripping with sarcasm.
Today was different, though. Her voice was soft and gentle, her eyes so clear and pure, as if she were genuinely concerned about his ntal state and hoped he would check into a hospital for a speedy recovery.
Yates Donovan braced himself above her. Seeing that she had stopped crying, he decided to play along to distract her.
"You’re right. I’ve been feeling off all over my body lately. Sigh. Do you think I might have so kind of terminal illness?"
Hearing this, Mia Grant studied his face for a long ti before shaking her head quite seriously. "You... you won’t."
"Really? I keep feeling like I’m destined for an early grave."
She shook her head again. "I’ve checked. As long as you don’t go looking for trouble, you’ll be fine."
Yates Donovan studied her face, his dark eyes narrowing slightly before he smiled harmlessly. "What are you, a doctor? A master fortune-teller? How can you be so certain?"
After they held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, she said very seriously, "Because soone once said that scourges live for a thousand years. You’ll live to be a hundred."
’Shit.’
’Did I just get cussed out by a drunk girl?’
Coming from her, though, it sounded more like a blessing.
’How bizarre.’
Yates Donovan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Gradually, Mia Grant’s attention was captured by her surroundings.
"So pretty," she breathed, reaching out to tug at the tasseled pendants on the bed canopy.
Yates Donovan followed her gaze, a smile in his eyes. "Do you like this bed?"
This canopy bed was a treasure his grandfather had spent nearly nine figures on back in the day.
It had been sitting in a guest room, never used.
It wasn’t that no one would use it, but that no one dared.
"I like it," she nodded, murmuring how pretty it was.
"Do you want it?"
"Huh?"
Yates Donovan took her hand in his. "A few years ago, my grandfather gave it to . He said it was for when I get married, to use as our wedding bed."
’At the ti, he’d thought it was too old-fashioned. Who sleeps in sothing like this anymore?’
’He never expected her to actually like it.’
"If you like it, it’s yours."
"But on one condition: if I give you this bed, I’ll have nowhere to sleep. Though, I wouldn’t mind sleeping in it with you."
"Okay," she nodded, seeing nothing wrong with the suggestion.
Peeking through the gaps in the ornate carvings, Mia Grant saw the play of light and shadow in the courtyard, and a mont later, her attention was captured by the falling snow.
While she was distracted, Yates Donovan stroked her fingers, his eyes dark as he stared at her and asked in a low voice, "Mia Grant, do you rember your father’s na?"
"Dad..."
She couldn’t seem to rember.
"Do you rember your mother’s na?"
She answered quickly, but it was an unfamiliar na.
It wasn’t Yuna Hughes or Gwen York.
"Did she later marry a repairman?"
The woman in his arms didn’t answer, only shrinking instinctively into his embrace.
Yates Donovan’s dark eyes narrowed.
’If it was just a dream, why would she rember it so clearly?’
She had said that in her dream, her stepfather would assault her.
Seeing her subconscious reaction, it was as if she had personally experienced it. That would explain her lack of security, to the point where it had beco an instinctual response.
’So it wasn’t a dream, was it?’
Yates Donovan studied the figure in his arms carefully. He was starting to have his doubts...
’Is the Mia Grant before really Mia Grant?’
He didn’t suspect that Mia Grant had been replaced by soone else after she jumped into the sea.
The tiline had to be earlier. It could be pushed back even further...
A scene suddenly flashed through his mind.
Speaking of unfamiliarity, there was the banquet for Serena Grant’s return to the Grant Family, on a snowy winter day just like this one.
Her every action had indeed been strange and unfamiliar.
Yates Donovan was lost in thought.
By the ti he ca to his senses, the woman in his arms had already fallen asleep.
He got up and tucked her under the covers. Then, he walked silently into the adjoining room and lit a cigarette.
The man stood by the window in silence for a long ti before finally dialing a number.
"Good evening, Keller."
"Don’t be in such a hurry to hang up. I have a few questions for you. They’re about... Mia Grant."
"Is it a good ti to et?"
"Yes. Right now."
——
「The Hospital」
At this hour, the corridors were silent. Aside from the nurses on the night shift, no one else was out and about.
Inside the patient room, Yates Donovan lit another cigarette. A mont later, a book flew from across the room and smacked hard against the back of his hand.
"Hiss—damn it." Yates Donovan shook his hand, turning to glare at the culprit.
"You have nine minutes."
Kian Keller was propped up against the headboard, his gaze colder than the snowstorm outside.
’Tsk. So cold and unreasonable.’
"Sotis I really don’t get what Mia Grant saw in you."
"Aaron, show our guest out."
Yates Donovan sighed. "Alright, alright. Let’s get down to business."
"When was the first ti you and Mia Grant t?"
Kian Keller glanced sideways at him. "You ca all the way over here in the middle of the night because you’re curious about our relationship history?"
"Relationship history?" Yates Donovan repeated the two words with a sneer. "You’re a real piece of work."
"Never mind. I’m not in the mood to argue with you today."
"First of all, out of everyone, you were the last person I wanted to contact. But I don’t really have a choice right now. Her little... fiancés, those two brothers from the Sinclair family... I don’t want to see them at the mont."
"Silas Grant and Hayes Hughes are swamped in Portia, so for now, you’re the only one I can turn to."
"You should also be clear on her relationship with the Sinclair Family by now."
"It’s just... I don’t believe she’s really from the Sinclair Family."
"Lately, I’ve been trying to dig into her past."
"It’s been a strange process. There are a lot of things that I can’t figure out, loose ends I can’t find answers for."
"Regardless, I really want to get to the bottom of it. And I think you’d be curious, too."
Kian Keller seed to understand the implication, saying flatly, "You’re thinking too much. I’m not curious about where she cos from, and I don’t care about her past."
Yates Donovan frowned, thinking he had co to the wrong person.
Fortunately, Kian Keller spoke again a mont later:
"However, I do need to know... whether she’ll leave again."
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