Chapter 101: Chapter 99: Crashing into a Pair of Smiling Eyes (3)
A maid placed coffee in front of them. Quentin Grant picked up his cup and gazed at the dark liquid. He suddenly looked at her, perfectly at ease. "Once her injuries have healed, I’ll make her leave. To me, she’s just a woman. I can have as many like her as I want. Love has nothing to do with it."
Catherine Callahan’s eyes lit up. "Really?"
"I have no obligation to prove it to you. And you’d better not come to this villa again. I have my boundaries, Catherine. You’d be wise not to cross them a second time."
Watching him turn away with his coffee, Catherine Callahan grew anxious. "Quentin, it’s been so long. Why won’t you give me a chance? Give *yourself* a chance? You still love me, I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have protected me after I hurt Nora Ainsworth. That proves where she and I stand in your heart, doesn’t it? Let’s get back together, okay?"
He didn’t break his stride. His posture was as ramrod-straight as ever as he walked upstairs and disappeared from view.
Quentin Grant pushed open the bedroom door and locked it behind him.
He approached the bed and saw Nora Ainsworth’s eyes were closed, but the slight tremor of her eyelashes betrayed her ruse.
Quentin Grant didn’t call her out on it immediately. He simply walked around to the other side of the bed.
He set the coffee on the nightstand, slipped off his shoes, and picked up a magazine.
Nora Ainsworth peeked at him through a narrow slit in her eyelids. His profile was ridiculously handsome. She opened her eyes fully. "What did she want?"
Quentin Grant’s eyes didn’t leave the page. "Nothing important."
"Oh." A wave of disappointment washed over her. "Quentin, can you put on a movie for me? I can’t sleep."
He set down his magazine. "If you’re that desperate to watch something, then I’ll indulge you."
With that, he got out of bed, switched on the wall-mounted television, and pulled a disc from a drawer. After inserting it into the DVD player, he returned to the bed.
"You probably can’t see lying down like that." He gently lifted her, helping her sit up higher against a stack of pillows he placed behind her back.
It was a sweet, innocent romance movie.
At least, that was Nora Ainsworth’s first impression.
Then it got to the angsty part, where the gorgeous main characters began to emotionally torture one another.
For some reason, Nora Ainsworth’s vision started to blur.
Even though there were plenty of steamy scenes, the agonizing turns in the plot made her heart ache with an unstoppable rhythm.
’What is wrong with me?’ she wondered. ’Normally, I’d be laughing my head off at such a cheesy, melodramatic plot. It’s all so fake!’
But now, she couldn’t laugh at all. She was just... completely swept up in it.
Shortly after the love scene ended, the two leads went right back to hurting each other.
By the end, the relationship was a complete and utter wreck.
Watching this film, you’d assume the main characters would end up together. No matter how much the male lead messed up, the female lead would always forgive him. That’s how the writers always write it, how the directors always direct it. It’s practically a trope.
But this movie was destined for a different kind of ending.
The couple, once so desperately in love, had loved each other to the breaking point.
The female lead pulled her suitcase down the sidewalk as the male lead stood at the other end of the street, breaking down in tears as he watched her delicate figure walk away. The film ended on that freeze-frame.
Watching this, Nora Ainsworth suddenly felt that this couldn’t be the real ending.
’If I were the writer,’ she thought, ’I would’ve had the male lead sprint after her. At the very least, give the audience a feeling that they might still get together. An open ending.’
But based on how it was filmed, the two were doomed to be apart. No matter how much they once loved each other, a missed chance was a missed chance.
Quentin Grant picked up the remote and shut off the DVD player and the television.
He turned to look at her. "Do all you women have to be so difficult? Look at the movie. The man loved her so much, shouldn’t she have just accepted it? A smart woman bravely pursues the love she wants instead of always being passive."
Nora Ainsworth tilted her face up to him. "What do you know? Every woman is different. Some can be brave, like me. Others can go their whole lives without mustering up the courage. In the end, it’s about not having the confidence that things will work out, not having the courage to face what’s coming."
Quentin Grant shot her a sidelong glance. "You? Brave? When have you ever been brave?"
"I’m always a beacon of invincible bravery! Quentin Grant, if I met a man I truly liked, I would absolutely go after him. And if he dared to so much as glance at another woman, I’d gouge his eyes out," she declared, a little smugly.
"Hah." He scoffed. "You’re the type to throw yourself at a man, aren’t you?"
Nora Ainsworth pouted. "Well, I wouldn’t throw myself at *you*."
"You never know. If you really did throw yourself at me, I might not mind," he said, conveniently ignoring her retort.
"There’s a right way and a wrong way to do it. If a man doesn’t love you, you’re just humiliating yourself. If a man loves you deeply, then it’s a good thing. I suppose I won’t get that chance, then."
"What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying that because I don’t want you, you’re planning on becoming a nun once you’re healed?"
Nora Ainsworth didn’t answer. "I’m tired. Going to sleep."
「The days passed, one by one.」
Catherine Callahan was completely barred from entering Quentin Grant’s private villa. Every attempt she made to see him failed, so she started going to the Grant Residence to wait for him every day.
Jean Grant couldn’t figure it out. Her own mother had once hated Catherine Callahan’s guts. How, in just a few days, had she come to accept her so wholeheartedly, even inviting her to the house for dinner every night?
She’d secretly asked her mom about it but received no explanation, only an instruction to "let go of her prejudice against Catherine."
Tonight, when Catherine Callahan showed up yet again, Jean Grant, who already couldn’t stand the sight of her, finally lost her patience. "Tell me, Miss Callahan, are you starting to think you live here?"
Catherine Callahan said nothing, but Mrs. Grant was the first to retort. "Jean, don’t you ever say that again. This *is* Catherine’s home."
"What did you do to my mom? This is so weird. You’re not looking for my brother, so what’s the point of coming here every day?"
"I can’t get in to see Quentin," she said honestly.
"And you think you’ll see him here? My brother hardly ever comes home. You could wait until hell freezes over and you still wouldn’t see him." Jean Grant couldn’t help but state the blunt truth.
Mrs. Grant said, "Jean, call your brother later and tell him to come home."
Jean Grant was floored. "Why? Mom, I feel like you’re treating her better than your own daughter!"
Mrs. Grant still offered no explanation. "Just do as I say. Why are you asking so many questions?"
"I’m not doing it." Jean Grant stood up. "You two eat. I’m going out. The sight of Miss Callahan here ruins my appetite."
Catherine Callahan remained silent, looking deeply aggrieved.
Mrs. Grant let out a sigh. "Catherine, don’t take it to heart. Jean is still young and speaks her mind without thinking. She doesn’t really mean it."
