Ethan Ellsworth’s expression darkened. "Who taught you this twisted logic?"
Chloe Marshall smiled. "No one. I’m self-taught."
She hopped out of the car and jogged ho.
Suddenly, only one drunk and two sober people remained in the car.
"What were you two doing at the hotel tonight? And why is he this drunk?"
"It was a friend’s birthday party tonight. He just had a little too much to drink, he’s not usually like this." Jean Grant seed to be trying to protect Marlon Marshall’s reputation.
Ethan Ellsworth scoffed. "Once a man develops a bad habit of getting drunk, it sticks. Let’s just hope he doesn’t take his frustrations out on you the next ti he’s drunk and upset."
Jean Grant shot him a look. "I knew it. Nothing good ever cos out of your mouth."
Ethan Ellsworth didn’t argue. He pulled up to Marlon Marshall’s apartnt.
Jean Grant couldn’t move the sleeping Marlon Marshall on her own, so she had no choice but to ask Ethan Ellsworth for help. "Can you carry him inside?"
Ethan Ellsworth glanced back, clearly annoyed. "Do you really think I’m a nice guy? I’m not. Isn’t that what you’ve always thought? And if you’re asking a not-so-nice guy for a favor, you have to pay up."
Jean Grant was furious. "What do you an, ’pay up’? You’re not short on cash, so why are you being so cheap? Is five hundred bucks enough?"
Ethan Ellsworth smiled back. "I don’t want money. Like you said, I couldn’t care less about that amount. But if you agree to one condition, I’ll help you."
Jean Grant figured he was her brother’s best friend, so he wouldn’t dare try anything. She nodded.
A triumphant smile touched Ethan Ellsworth’s lips, his mood improving considerably. He helped Marlon Marshall into his apartnt.
As Jean Grant helped Marlon take off his shoes and covered him with a blanket, Ethan Ellsworth turned and waited by the door.
Jean Grant closed the apartnt door, and they both got back in the car.
This ti, she sat in the passenger seat.
Ethan Ellsworth turned to her. "Seriously, Jean Grant, have you lost your mind? What do you even see in a guy like Marlon Marshall?"
"None of your business!" Jean Grant said, buckling her seatbelt. "Haven’t you ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? A player like you would never understand."
Ethan Ellsworth pointed to his own chest. "A player? Are you sure you’re talking about ?"
"Is there anyone else in here?"
Ethan Ellsworth chuckled. "Fair enough. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder."
"Just drive. I need to get ho before my mom lectures ."
Ethan Ellsworth started the car. "It’s the middle of the night. You think your mom *won’t* say sothing when you get back? Actually, I’m curious. When are you planning to tell your mother about you and Marlon?"
Jean Grant looked awkward. "I don’t know. I’ll tell her when the ti is right."
"And when is the ti right? When you get pregnant?"
’Okay, that was a low blow,’ he admitted to himself.
Jean Grant’s eyes flew wide, and she slapped his arm. "Ethan Ellsworth! Can you be serious for once? Do you really think I’m the type of girl to get pregnant out of wedlock?"
"Hard to say. Even if you aren’t, n have a hard ti controlling themselves. Are you so sure he wouldn’t pull a fast one and knock you up when you’re not paying attention?"
Jean Grant’s face flushed. "Shut up! Even if... that happened, it’s none of your business. Just focus on driving."
Ethan Ellsworth glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The car sped up as he focused on the road ahead.
When he pulled up to the gate of the Grant Residence, Jean Grant unbuckled her seatbelt to get out, but he grabbed her hand, stopping her.
Jean Grant whipped her head around, her expression full of loathing. "What are you doing? Let go!"
In that instant, Ethan Ellsworth clearly saw the disgust for him deep in her eyes.
He forced a smile. "Go on, get so sleep."
Realizing she had overreacted, Jean Grant felt a little awkward. "You should head ho soon, too. Good night."
She slipped out of the car and disappeared from his sight.
He held out his hand, staring at his palm, an indescribable feeling washing over him.
The downpour intensified, and the inky sky was starless.
On the steps of the East Gate, Leon Lynch stood drenched to the bone, his white clothes clinging to him.
He clutched his phone, staring at the rain-streaked screen, hoping for a miracle.
But the seconds ticked by, and his phone remained silent.
Anxiety churned in his gut. The feeling kept him on edge, and at the slightest sound, he would leap to his feet and scan his surroundings.
Finally, a text ssage lit up his phone. It was from Nora Ainsworth’s number.
It read: I’m fine. Thank you.
Reading those few short words, Leon Lynch finally smiled.
He got back into his car and returned to the Lynch family ho.
Mrs. Lynch was already waiting anxiously at the door. Seeing him soaked to the skin, she rushed over. "Leon, how did you get so drenched? What did Nora Ainsworth want from you?"
She wouldn’t bad-mouth Nora Ainsworth in front of her son.
"It’s nothing, Mom. I’m going to go upstairs and shower."
Seeing that he seed all right, Mrs. Lynch finally relaxed.
Quentin Grant removed the IV needle from her arm. He tapped the phone screen, sending the ssage. The recipient was Leon Lynch. ’A first for ,’ he thought, ’texting another man.’
He quickly deleted the ssage history and tucked the phone back into the folds of her clothes near her chest.
Then, he undressed and lay down beside Nora Ainsworth.
He lay on his side, keeping about a foot of distance between them.
Sleep wouldn’t co, and he lay there with his eyes open.
"Leon! Leon! Save ! Help !" Even in her unconscious state, she couldn’t escape her tornt.
He gently squeezed her fingers. After a mont, she grew quiet.
Only then did Quentin Grant drift off to a peaceful sleep.
「When he woke again, morning light was streaming in.」
He dressed and stood by the bed. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, "If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll have to stay by my side for the rest of your life, with no chance of escape."
Sure enough, Nora Ainsworth’s eyes fluttered open. Her lips were pale and bloodless.
"I would never let you get your way," she said, her voice a weak, breathless whisper.
"Still talking tough even when you’re stuck in bed. I guess you want to stay here for another year or two."
Nora Ainsworth’s expression was blank. "Thanks to you, I’ve been injured twice in a row. I was lucky to survive this ti. I’ll be sure to cherish my life from now on."
Quentin Grant raised an eyebrow. "I’m curious. Aren’t you going to ask how you ended up here?"
"I don’t want to know."
"Nora Ainsworth, I’m sorry."
She closed her eyes. "Quentin Grant, I should have known. You’re my curse. Sooner or later, I’ll end up dead at your hands. Nothing good has happened to since the day I t you."
"That just proves how strong our connection is."
"I’m hungry. I want to eat." ’Food is essential for survival, and she wasn’t about to argue with her stomach.’
"Of course. You’re the patient, you get what you want. I’ll have the kitchen prepare breakfast for you."
His figure vanished from the bedroom doorway.
The sound of his footsteps descending the stairs gradually faded.
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