Mia Grant wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but whenever Silas Grant was near, she always slept a little better than usual.
Maybe it was the sense of security, maybe it was the force of habit, or maybe... she was just tired.
At seven in the morning, Silas Grant was already up.
After coming out of the bathroom, he picked up his jacket, which was hanging to one side.
Fastening the buttons on his suit jacket, he turned and walked quietly toward the bed.
Mia Grant was still asleep.
She liked to curl up on her side when she slept. Sotis, worried it was bad for her spine, he would deliberately straighten her out as he held her to sleep. But the mont he let go, she would revert to her old ways.
Like a little snowball, with half her face buried in the soft comforter.
His buttons fastened, Silas Grant leaned over and gently pulled down the edge of the comforter that was covering her mouth and nose.
She was sleeping soundly, showing no signs of waking.
Silas Grant sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at her for a long ti.
Their few hours of intimacy felt like a dream, so fragile it seed it would shatter at the slightest touch.
’I want to take her with so badly.’
He was perfectly capable of ensuring she slept peacefully the whole journey, only to wake up and find herself in Portia.
’Unfortunately... I can’t follow my heart.’
He never liked being forced to choose. In the past, he was used to having it all.
There was never a need to pick one or the other—he would simply take both.
But now, he was being forced to choose.
Instead of destroying what he couldn’t have, he now hoped that the one he had to leave behind could grow up well.
A smile touched Silas Grant’s lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. His movents were gentle and slow, full of a tender longing.
Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
Despite his overwhelming reluctance to leave, it was ti for him to go.
He could only hope their next eting wouldn’t be too far away, that the wait wouldn’t be too agonizing.
—
By the ti Mia Grant woke up, Silas Grant had been gone for a long ti.
It had snowed all night, and the sky today was a dreary gray, leaving the room sowhat dim. The nightlight on the headboard, however, was still on.
Glancing around, Mia Grant saw that his overcoat was gone from the rack, and she understood.
For a fleeting mont, a strange feeling stirred in her heart.
But she quickly pushed it down.
She pulled the covers up higher, curled into a ball, and dozed for a little while longer. She only got out of bed to wash up after the last remnants of sleep had faded.
When she ca out of the bathroom and looked for her phone, she noticed what Silas Grant had left on the bedside table.
It was a red gift box, wrapped several tis with a silk ribbon and topped with a bow. For so reason, she knew at a glance that Silas Grant had tied the bow himself.
He tied his bows differently than she did.
The night she’d left the basent with him, he had taken her to see a doctor.
He had brought her a pair of sneakers, but she had been crying so hard at the ti that she hadn’t noticed.
After waiting a mont, he had given a resigned smile, crouching down to help her put them on.
She realized what was happening too late. The tall man was already kneeling before her, taking the ends of the laces to tie her shoes.
His fingers were long with well-defined knuckles. The white laces wound around his fingertips as he worked, his movents slow and deliberate. Even the simple act of tying a shoelace was incredibly elegant, a beautiful sight to behold.
She forgot to cry. He looked up, his eyes eting hers. He’d been drinking, and his eyes were like deep, bottomless pools. He looked at her with a mix of resignation and pity, as if looking at a mischievous child. "All cried out?"
"..."
In that mont, his gaze sent a tremor through her heart.
She had been crying out of fear, out of the sheer shock of having survived, and, of course, as part of her act.
She was playing the part of the weak, hoping to win his protection.
But now, she felt as if she were standing naked before him, all her dark little sches laid bare by his gaze.
Her long lashes fluttered. She didn’t know what to say.
Across from her, Silas Grant had already risen to his feet.
He wiped his hands with a handkerchief, then held out a hand to her. "Do you need to carry you?"
"I..."
She couldn’t read his intentions and didn’t dare make a reckless move.
She even thought, ’I’ve already escaped the basent. Maybe I should just give up on getting close to Silas Grant.’
’Let’s just stop here.’
’He’s on a completely different level, his presence too overwhelming. When I’m with him, my weakness isn’t just an act—most of the ti, I’m genuinely terrified.’
’He’s always smiling, but sotis it doesn’t feel kind at all. Instead, he seems more like a psychopathic killer from a movie.’
She said she could walk on her own.
But when she tried to stand, she barely took two steps before her legs, weak and aching, gave out.
She hadn’t eaten in a long ti, and she’d used up what little energy she had left on crying.
Her knees were scraped raw from kneeling on the ground for so long.
Although she managed to keep from making a sound, she couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face.
From behind her ca the man’s sigh, its intention unclear.
A mont later, an arm tightened around her waist, and she was lifted from behind.
He was in excellent shape and lifted her as effortlessly as if she were a kitten. Just like the night before, she sat in the crook of his arm with his jacket draped over her. Her small face was gray with dust, making her look like a sullied doll.
All the way out, as he carried her, she was torn by inner conflict.
Thinking back now, maybe Silas Grant had known all along that she was partly acting, but had chosen not to call her out on it.
In other words, she wasn’t solely responsible for the situation they were in now.
He had indulged her; he had imrsed himself in the charade as well.
Pressing her lips together, Mia Grant didn’t rush to open the gift. Instead, she picked up the card tucked beneath it.
She unfolded it, revealing his familiar handwriting.
He wrote that it was a New Year’s gift and wished her a Happy New Year.
Mia Grant set the card aside and shook the box, but heard nothing.
The box was long, rectangular, and rather flat.
’Is it an article of clothing?’
She guessed it might be a dress.
’Just in ti for the New Year.’
With that in mind, she carefully undid the bow, then neatly rolled up the ribbon to save it.
The lid was on tight. Mia Grant had to work it back and forth a few tis before the box itself dropped away.
It landed on the bedside table with a soft THUD.
She looked down and saw that it contained several docunts...
"A trust... fund?" Mia Grant froze.
Ten minutes later, her hands trembling, Mia Grant called Silas Grant’s number.
Silas Grant was in a board eting and didn’t have his phone, so a junior assistant answered.
"Hello, Miss Grant. Mr. Grant is in a very important eting right now, but he will call you back later. He instructed to be sure to answer and take a ssage if you called."
"If it’s an urgent matter, I can try to assist you."
Mia Grant blinked. "It’s not urgent. I’ll call back later."
"Very well. Goodbye, Miss Grant."
After hanging up, Mia Grant thought for a mont, then sent a ssage to Yates Donovan on WeChat.
He replied with a single question mark.
Mia Grant took a photo of the docunt’s cover and sent it to him.
A few minutes later, Yates Donovan sent back a minute-long voice ssage.
"Damn, Silas Grant really is sothing else. You’re set for life—you can just kick back and relax. But wait, is he writing his will or sothing? Talk about generous. I wonder how long he’s been planning this. Has he left? Is he still with you? That old bastard... he really doesn’t give a damn if I, his number one, live or die, does he?"
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