Chapter 119: Chapter 117: He Loved Her More Than He Imagined (13)
Meanwhile, at the Ainsworth residence, when they saw the news, Sharon Ainsworth shot up excitedly. "I never would have thought... Nora Ainsworth is actually dead? Dead just like that? This is what happens when you make too many enemies!"
Mr. Ainsworth burst into wild laughter. "Ah, Joel Chaucer, your daughter has finally gone to join you. I hope you give her a warm welcome."
Sitting beside them, Nicholas Ainsworth felt his heart sink to the lowest depths of the world.
His expression grew much colder as he looked at the two of them. "I didn’t realize you’d both be so happy about her death."
Sharon Ainsworth sneered. "What, am I supposed to cry? I might for anyone else, but not for that homewrecker Nora Ainsworth. The world is a better place now that she’s dead!"
The chopsticks in Nicholas Ainsworth’s hand fell onto the table with a CLATTER. He got up and went upstairs.
His company had been running into problems recently. He couldn’t afford any more scandals right now.
Even though he desperately wanted to find out what happened to her, wanted to go to the scene himself, it clearly wasn’t the right time.
Mrs. Grant had originally planned to come the next day, but after hearing Jean prattle on about something big happening, she took a car with Jean to her son’s private residence.
The moment she stepped inside, she sensed an unusual current in the atmosphere.
"Quentin, what is so important that it had to be discussed tonight?"
No sooner had she spoken than Mrs. Grant froze. "Son?"
"Mom, please sit down over there."
Mrs. Grant noticed his grim expression and grew anxious. "What happened? Is it Catherine—"
Quentin Grant clenched his fist. "Mom, just sit down for now. Don’t ask any questions."
Mrs. Grant looked at the others and froze again. Not a single person was smiling. Their grave expressions made her uneasy.
She had no choice but to sit there in silence.
Jean Grant, sitting beside her, whispered, "Mom, if Brother asked you to come, he must have something to tell you. Just be quiet for now. Someone else is coming."
Hearing this, Mrs. Grant could only nod.
About ten minutes later, footsteps sounded in the courtyard. Herman Hawthorne appeared at the door first. He nodded at Quentin Grant, signaling that the person had arrived.
Sure enough, Catherine Callahan appeared at the door, dressed in designer autumn wear.
She was perfectly composed. Seeing Mrs. Grant was also there, she knew what this was about, yet she remained unnervingly calm.
"Auntie, you’re here too?" she asked with a beaming smile as she stepped through the door.
Mrs. Grant, though confused, nodded at the sight of her. "Yes. Quentin asked me to come."
"Quentin asked me to come too. I wonder what it’s about. All of Quentin’s friends are here. Are you all planning a surprise for me?" The "surprise" she was referring to was, of course, marriage.
Jean Grant spoke coolly, "Yes, my brother said he was giving you a big surprise. The only question is whether you’ll be able to handle it."
Catherine Callahan plopped down next to Quentin Grant and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Did you compare me to Charlotte Young and realize I’m better after all?"
Ethan Ellsworth slapped a hand over his own face and closed his eyes. ’This woman is way too good at faking it,’ he thought.
Herman Hawthorne remained silent. This wasn’t his place to speak.
Quentin Grant turned his head to look at her. "Were you at the bridge on the outskirts of town tonight?"
Catherine Callahan blinked. "Me? The bridge on the outskirts? Why would I go there on a rainy night?"
Everyone knew she would deny it to her dying breath.
A vicious smile played on Quentin Grant’s lips. He suddenly seized her by the neck, his hand tightening, the action so fast and precise that no one saw it coming.
"Quentin! What are you doing?!" Mrs. Grant shot to her feet, crying out in alarm.
Jean Grant grabbed her. "Mom, my brother wanted you here so you could see what kind of person your precious goddaughter really is!"
Mrs. Grant shook off Jean Grant’s hand. "Quentin, let her go! We can talk this out!"
Seeing it was no use, she looked to the others for help, but not a single person stepped in to mediate.
Mrs. Grant had no choice but to try and pry Quentin Grant’s hand away herself. "Listen to Mom. Let’s talk this out properly. Don’t do this."
Catherine Callahan’s face was as red as a beet. The terror in her eyes was now fully exposed as she reached for Mrs. Grant, unable to speak.
Quentin Grant slowly released his grip. His voice was low and as cold as a tomb. "Men, tie her up."
Several Men in Black quickly emerged, shackled Catherine Callahan’s hands and feet with chains, and forced her to her knees.
Mrs. Grant couldn’t imagine what could possibly make her son act like this.
"Tonight, were you at the bridge on the outskirts of town?" He looked at her with the same indifference one would have for a pile of trash.
Catherine Callahan, having caught her breath, burst into tears and looked at Mrs. Grant. "Auntie, Quentin is trying to kill me! You have to save me!"
Chloe Marshall finally couldn’t take it anymore. She ripped the IV needle from her hand, got off the sofa, and kicked Catherine Callahan square in the nose. Blood instantly gushed from her nose, splattering all over the floor.
"Save you? I’m going to kill you today!" Chloe Marshall’s eyes were bloodshot.
Mrs. Grant grabbed her. "Why are you all doing this? Will someone please explain what’s going on!"
"She killed Nora! It’s true what they say—nice people get bullied, and good horses get ridden. Nora never held it against you all those times you tried to kill her, so why did you have to go and do it! She already left Young Master Grant, so why did you still have to hunt her down?!"
Mrs. Grant was stunned. "Nora Ainsworth? Dead?"
Jean Grant nodded. "Mm. Killed by her."
Before Mrs. Grant could even question her, Catherine Callahan pinched her bleeding nose, tilted her head back, and started laughing maniacally. "She’s dead. She’s finally dead! This is the best news I’ve ever heard! Quentin is mine. The very fact that he fell in love with her was reason enough for me to kill her. I will absolutely not let another woman sit in a seat that I can’t have!"
Chloe Marshall raised her hand and slapped her hard across the face. "What gives you the right!"
Catherine Callahan staggered to a sitting position. "If I can’t have him, no other woman can either. This just makes him hate me a little more, that’s all."
Quentin Grant stood up. He walked over and squatted in front of her, his voice so faint it was nearly inaudible. "To get away from you, she fell from the second floor and was laid up for over a month. Then you set Warner on her. When she shot him, you faked a heart attack and went to the hospital. You claimed Nora gave Warner a rabies shot that made him aggressive, framing her. You said she lured you out. You even knocked her out during a ’film shoot,’ put her in a remote-controlled car, and staged an accident. Before all of that, you schemed to get her into my bedroom, to make me think she had ulterior motives, to make me despise her. I knew you did it all. But I still told her: ’I’ll let you go. Take it as compensation for the harm you caused Catherine.’"
After this long speech, he suddenly paused. He took off his sunglasses, revealing eyes that were clearly red and swollen, with bloodshot veins filling the whites.
