Nora Ainsworth didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.
Thinking about her date that evening, she quickly ate her al.
Then she took a shower.
She blow-dried her hair, changed into clean clothes, and put on so makeup. Only when she was satisfied did she head out.
Sohow, he was already standing at the door, holding a large bouquet of roses.
He gazed at her with deep affection.
Nora Ainsworth blushed and took them. "No one has ever given roses before. It’s a first, and it feels nice."
Quentin Grant took her hand and led her out of the villa. They followed a mountain path until they reached a large bridge.
From the bridge, they could see countless neon lights. He led her to the riverbank, where they boarded a riverboat.
As soon as they were inside, the boat began to move slowly.
Inside, there was a large LCD television.
The mont they sat down, the screen lit up.
It was clearly surveillance footage, all of it showing him and her.
The tistamps dated back a long ti.
There was footage from his villa, the yard, and even intimate scenes from the bedroom.
Whenever she saw herself boldly on top with him on the bottom, Nora Ainsworth could hardly believe that woman in the video was her.
’Was I really such a fearless go-getter deep down?’
Every ti a scene like that ca on, she would demand Quentin Grant fast-forward, but he would pointedly ignore her, shalessly claiming that watching their "ho movie" was a delight.
Nora Ainsworth could stomp her feet in frustration, but it was no use.
In truth, after watching all of this, Nora Ainsworth had already accepted deep down that she was his woman.
But she still desperately hoped to recover her original mories.
The night slipped away without her noticing; she completely forgot they were on a boat.
The surveillance footage had clearly been edited together, focusing only on the two of them and highlighting the most important monts.
By the ti they finished, it had gone from five or six in the evening to three o’clock the next morning.
You can imagine just how long the video was.
At the very end, a photo of the two of them snuggled together appeared on the big screen. A ssage materialized above it: My wife, I love you! I love you so much!
Nora Ainsworth smiled shyly.
Her smile was bright enough to light up the dark night.
The television screen went dark. Quentin Grant took her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Did you like the video?"
"I loved it."
"Do you like the roses?"
"I love them."
"And... did you like this date? I’m not the best at planning things, because I figure that as long as we’re together, every day is a date, and every day is Valentine’s Day."
"I loved it."
"Then... do you like ?"
"Yes." The word was out before she realized she’d fallen into his trap!
’That jerk!’
’He’s always teasing !’
Quentin Grant burst out laughing, which made her pound on his chest like a bashful maiden.
He looked down at her. "Co on, let’s go outside."
He took her hand, and they stood on the deck. The sky was still pitch-black.
The mont they stepped out, two n in Black produced so pre-prepared fireworks and set them off.
These weren’t ordinary fireworks. Each one exploded into words. So spelled out "I love you," while others ford longer sentences, like "Nora, Nora, I love you, just like a mouse loves rice."
’He really put his heart into this.’
After the last firework faded, he suddenly dropped to one knee. A Man in Black handed him an enormous bouquet of roses, which Quentin Grant then offered to her. "Nora, if you like them, please take them."
Nora Ainsworth had never seen such a massive bouquet of roses. It had to be five tis larger than the one he’d given her earlier.
Of course, she loved flowers.
She accepted the bouquet.
Before she could even react, he slipped a ring onto her finger.
Then he stood up. Nora Ainsworth glanced down. ’Isn’t this the diamond ring I sold?’
She felt a pang of guilt.
He wrapped his arms around her from the side. "Don’t you dare sell this ring again. It cost tens of millions, nearly a hundred million. When you sold it for a pittance, you weren’t selling a ring. You were selling my heart."
She nodded. She wasn’t overthinking it, just... ’Well, if I ever fall on hard tis again, this could probably fetch a great price.’
’Mhm. If he knew what I was thinking, I’d definitely be in for a ’punishnt’ later.’
Quentin Grant lowered his head and kissed her. The sweetness was long-awaited, as satisfying as rain after a long drought. He held her even tighter.
For Mrs. Grant, the past two or three months had been incredibly frustrating.
She had always believed that a man only gets one mother, but he can always find another woman.
In reality, ever since her son had left that day, he hadn’t set foot in the house. Her calls to him wouldn’t even go through.
She couldn’t get a eting with him at his company, either.
He even refused to see Mr. Grant and Jean Grant when they tried.
A few days ago, Mrs. Grant couldn’t restrain herself and went looking for him again, only to be told that Quentin Grant was currently out of the country.
One could only imagine Mrs. Grant’s mood. She had no choice but to pin all her hopes on Catherine Callahan’s pregnancy.
She calculated the dates. ’It should be about ti.’
She personally took Catherine Callahan to the hospital, where they were told that she was, in fact, pregnant.
A little over two months along.
The timing lined up perfectly with the night Quentin had been ho.
Mrs. Grant’s gloomy mood lifted instantly. She imdiately took Catherine Callahan out and bought her a wardrobe of high-end clothes, then gave her a bank card to spend as she pleased as a reward.
The two of them had a al at a restaurant before returning to the Grant Residence, laden with shopping bags.
Jean Grant had already been waiting for so ti.
Watching the two of them enter, Jean Grant spoke up. "Mom, you’re actually in the mood to go shopping right now?"
Mrs. Grant nodded. "Of course. It was just confird today. I’m going to be a grandmother soon, how could I not celebrate?"
Jean Grant’s eyes imdiately shot over to Catherine Callahan, her gaze landing on her belly.
"You’re pregnant? With my brother’s child?"
Catherine Callahan sat on the sofa like she owned the place, her entire attitude radiating a newfound arrogance.
"Of course it’s Quentin’s. I thank my lucky stars I was able to get pregnant."
Jean Grant sneered. "What good is thanking the stars? It was my brother who got you pregnant, wasn’t it? Then again, it’s not that surprising. If you want to get pregnant with soone’s child, all you need is a little packet of powder, and it’s a done deal. I’m just wondering... does my brother know about this?"
"And would it be so hard for him to find out?"
Jean Grant had never been able to stand Catherine Callahan.
Hearing the confidence in her voice, Jean retorted, "Let give you a friendly piece of advice: you’d better hope he doesn’t find out. Otherwise, forget keeping the baby in your belly—I’m not even sure you’d make it out alive. You’ve crossed my brother’s line countless tis already, you know that?"
Catherine Callahan grew pensive, apparently considering the gravity of the warning.
Mrs. Grant chid in, "Jean is right. Let’s not make this public yet. He won’t be back for a while, anyway. As long as you stay out of sight from now on, Catherine, we can keep this under wraps. By the ti Quentin finds out, you’ll be close to giving birth. His hands will be tied. He’ll have to marry you to give the child a proper family."
Catherine Callahan nodded in agreent.
Jean Grant’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, then grabbed her handbag and stood up. "Mom, I have to go. Nicholas is waiting for for dinner."
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