Chapter 102: Chapter 100: Crashing Into a Pair of Smiling Eyes (Part 4)
"I know. It’s okay, I’m fine."
A flicker of sorrow passed over Mrs. Grant’s face as she looked at her.
**
Jean Grant didn’t take her car. Instead, she rode her sleek motorcycle, looking impossibly cool as she put on her helmet.
She rode out of her neighborhood and pulled up in front of Marlon Marshall’s house.
Taking off her helmet, she walked into the yard.
From inside, she heard the voice of Marlon’s mother: "Don’t let that young lady from the Grant family come here anymore. The last time she brought you home, she was with another man. It’s obvious she’s not a respectable girl."
Marlon explained, "Mom, that was a friend of Jean’s older brother."
"How many times have I told you? Why don’t you understand? Her family is so rich, why would she ever fall for you? She’s just playing with you, Drake. Listen to your mother. Tell her that you two either get married or you break up, understand? Our families aren’t a match. Even if I were to stand in front of her parents, I would feel looked down upon."
"We’re still young. We haven’t even graduated from college yet, how can we get married? Mom, please don’t worry about this. I know what I’m doing."
Jean Grant stood in the yard, having overheard everything. She suddenly decided it was best not to go inside. If she did, his mother might think she had been standing there eavesdropping on purpose.
She went back outside, sat on her motorcycle, and called Marlon Marshall five minutes later.
He was out in less than a minute.
"Did you eat yet?"
Jean Grant shook her head. "No."
"Perfect, we have food at my house. Do you want some?"
Jean Grant pointed to the motorcycle. "Get on. I want to eat out."
"It’s free to eat at my place, but it costs money to eat out. And my mom’s cooking is delicious."
"No, thanks. I’m craving malatang. Get on."
He got on behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She drove them to a restaurant and stopped out front.
Jean Grant ordered some malatang, then looked at him and said, "Do you want to marry me?"
Marlon was taken aback. "Jean, did you tell your parents about us?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. I’m just asking you, do you want to marry me?"
"Of course! I love you, so naturally I want to marry you. But we’re both still so young."
"I’m not saying we should get married right now. My brother isn’t even married, so it’s hardly my turn. I was just asking," Jean Grant said, looking down at her food.
She was completely oblivious to the change in Marlon Marshall’s expression.
"When are you planning to tell your parents about us? It’s not good to keep hiding it like this. They’ll have to find out sooner or later."
Jean Grant picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth. "What if your mom doesn’t like me? It would put you in such a difficult position."
Marlon Marshall gave a small smile. "Don’t worry, I’m here. If I like you, my mom will too."
Jean Grant looked at his face and wanted to believe him. ’I would have,’ she thought, ’if I hadn’t heard what his mother said with my own ears.’
"Let’s wait until after we graduate. It’s not that long, anyway. Just a few more months."
Marlon Marshall nodded. "Okay."
*
Quentin Grant was called home by Mrs. Grant.
The moment he saw Catherine Callahan was also there, he understood everything.
"Quentin, what did I say to you the other day? You used to insist on being with Catherine, but now that I’m not against it, why are *you* the one who’s unwilling? I want to hear your answer today. Be clear. Don’t leave Catherine waiting around like a fool."
Catherine Callahan’s nerves were stretched taut. She, too, wanted to hear his true answer.
He said it plainly. "I don’t love her anymore." The five simple words caused Catherine Callahan more pain than if she’d been sliced by a thousand blades.
"The only reason I’ve shown her any mercy is for your sake, Mom, not because I still have feelings for her. So please, don’t call me home for such pointless reasons again."
Mrs. Grant asked, a little sheepishly, "Well then, Quentin, is there someone else you’re in love with?"
"No."
Tears streamed down Catherine Callahan’s face. "You’re lying! If you didn’t love me, why would you protect me like that? If you don’t love me, why did you make Nora Ainsworth leave? It all proves you still have feelings for me, Quentin! You just won’t admit it!"
Mrs. Grant was bewildered. "Make Nora Ainsworth leave? Quentin, did you get rid of Herman’s girlfriend? Did you fire her?"
Sobbing uncontrollably, Catherine Callahan managed to say, "Mrs. Grant, Quentin is lying to you! The truth is, Nora Ainsworth isn’t Herman Hawthorne’s girlfriend at all! She’s Quentin’s woman! They sleep together! He’s been deceiving you this whole time!"
Mrs. Grant was shocked. "What?! Say that again?"
Catherine Callahan repeated herself. "Nora Ainsworth has always been Quentin’s secret lover. He didn’t want anyone to know, so he used Herman Hawthorne’s name as a cover to keep her close. I saw them together with my own eyes. She’s in his bed right now, lying there."
Mrs. Grant’s gaze on Quentin Grant was complicated. "Quentin, is what Catherine is saying true?"
"Mom, why don’t you ask Catherine why Nora is in my bed right now?" Quentin Grant let out a low laugh. "She hired someone to knock Nora unconscious and put her in a remote-controlled car with no brakes. Then, at the East Gate, she personally staged a scene where Nora was nearly killed in a crash. She’s still recovering. If I hadn’t found out in time, she would have been killed. The only reason I didn’t press charges was for your sake, Mom, because of what you said to me. But I will absolutely not let this happen a second time. Once she has recovered, I will make her leave. But that doesn’t mean you can get back with me by running to my mother. Catherine, you are no longer the person you once were, and I am no longer the person I was. We missed our chance long ago."
He stood up. "I’m leaving."
Mrs. Grant’s jaw dropped as she watched her son’s departing figure, his every word still echoing in her ears.
"Quentin! But I love you! Everything I did was for you!" Catherine Callahan broke down and cried hysterically.
Quentin Grant didn’t look back.
He drove back to his villa. As he walked to the front door, he looked up and saw the light was still on in the second-floor bedroom.
A warmth spread through his chest. He changed his shoes, went upstairs, and pushed open the door to find Nora Ainsworth sitting up in bed, watching TV.
After resting for the past several days, she was able to move about freely.
"Did your mom call you in to scold you?"
Quentin Grant unbuttoned his collar. "My mom knows about us."
