Chapter 124: Chapter 122: Hurry Back and Have a Good ’Exchange’ (Part 2)
She turned her head and found him collapsed on the floor. That sound had been him muttering in his sleep.
Seeing him lying motionless on the ground, Nora Ainsworth went over and struggled to help him up. The effort caused the cut on her body to reopen, and it hurt like hell.
Quentin Grant’s eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at her hazily. "Nora? Nora?"
Nora Ainsworth didn’t say a word. She supported him into the private room and slowly approached the bed, intending to toss him onto it. But just as she was about to, his arms locked tightly around her waist.
"You came to see me? Nora, don’t go."
Nora Ainsworth let him hold her, not saying a word.
He stumbled back two steps and fell directly onto the large bed, pulling her down with him so that she was lying on top of him.
Nora Ainsworth frantically lifted her head and saw his dazed eyes fixed on her. "If only you were really Nora."
He closed his eyes and fell completely asleep.
Nora Ainsworth breathed a sigh of relief. ’Looks like he also thinks he was so drunk he mistook me for someone else. That’s for the best.’
She climbed off him, took off his shoes, and covered him with the blanket. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she watched him. She noticed that in the few days they hadn’t seen each other, Quentin Grant had grown much more haggard and thin. He even had stubble now.
She reached out and touched his stubble. It felt prickly.
’Right now, she felt pathetic, because she didn’t even want to go back.’
She closed the door securely. On an impulse, she lay down beside him, turning on her side to watch him. Nora Ainsworth actually found herself thinking, ’If we could just keep on like this, in secret, that would be fine too.’
’If being together openly would lead to a point of no return, then she would rather stay in the shadows like this.’
Ethan Ellsworth was exhilarated from dancing. He was covered in sweat as he came out with Herman Hawthorne, only to find that Quentin Grant was gone.
"Where’s your brother?"
Jean Grant didn’t even look up. "He went upstairs to rest."
Ethan Ellsworth was getting annoyed by how she was always on her phone. The thing was, he didn’t even have to guess who she was texting.
"You silly girl, what if some woman with bad intentions takes the opportunity to get into your brother’s bed?"
Jean Grant shoved her phone into her pocket. "I’ll go upstairs and check."
Ethan Ellsworth hurried after her. "You’re so trusting of Marlon Marshall. It’d be easy for him to have a secret affair with some other woman."
Jean Grant turned back. "Don’t pin everything on Marlon Marshall! Do you even know him? Do you have any idea what kind of person he is? Don’t think you can look down on people just because you come from a good family. There’s no rich or poor when it comes to love."
Ethan Ellsworth’s smile vanished. "Then do you know him? You think you know him so well, so tell me, what is it you know about him? I never said there’s a difference between rich and poor in love. Don’t paint me as some malicious schemer. Dating is one thing, but when it comes to marriage, you need to open your eyes and see clearly. Marriage is a matter between two families, and there *is* a wealth gap between families. I’m just reminding you out of the kindness of my heart, as an older brother figure, not to let love cloud your judgment."
"Who asked for your reminder? You think you know so much? Ethan Ellsworth, can you even count how many women you’ve played around with? And you have the nerve to criticize others."
She turned and went straight upstairs.
Ethan Ellsworth didn’t follow. He just stood there, his gaze dim.
"Alright, nothing you say now will matter. I told you a long time ago you two weren’t a good match. This is love for you. Men and women in love are blind; they can’t stand to hear a single bad word about their partner," Herman Hawthorne said, tapping his shoulder.
"Now I’m finally realizing just how pathetic I am."
"What’s the big deal? Why don’t you just tell her? Seeing how clueless Jean is, I’m guessing she has no idea."
Ethan Ellsworth shook his head. "Do you think now is the right time? Her head is completely filled with Marlon Marshall. Where’s the room for anyone else?"
Herman Hawthorne stroked his chin thoughtfully. "They say the most effective way to forget someone is to find someone new to fall in love with. After a while, you naturally won’t have any feelings for the person you loved before. Why don’t you give it a try?"
"Try with who? You?" Ethan Ellsworth also started up the stairs.
Herman Hawthorne cursed under his breath. "Damn it! Fine, I’ll take one for the team. You wanna be the top or the bottom?"
Ethan Ellsworth nearly coughed up blood. "Dude, you don’t have to be for real, do you? I was just kidding."
Herman Hawthorne gave him a wicked grin. "I’m already willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good. What more could you be unsatisfied with?"
Ethan Ellsworth’s face twitched. "I’m *very* unsatisfied, because you’re not a woman." After a pause, he added with a deep smile, "If you really love me that much, go to Taryn and get the surgery. Then I might consider it."
This time, it was Herman Hawthorne’s turn to mime gagging repeatedly.
"Ethan Ellsworth, you get your ass back here! See if I don’t beat the shit out of you!"
Ethan Ellsworth retorted indignantly, "You’re the one who started this topic, so how can you blame me! I’m being framed!"
Down below, two hardcore fujoshi stared, completely dumbfounded. A moment later, one of them let out a roar: "FUCK! So they really are gay! This is so adorable!"
Herman Hawthorne, who had been in mid-chase, froze. He clenched his fists, and finally, after struggling to control his emotions, he slowly walked to the second-floor front desk to check the suite records.
But he couldn’t find any record of Quentin Grant getting a room.
The three of them had no choice but to search room by room.
Nora Ainsworth, who was dozing, heard the door open. She immediately got up and ran into the bathroom.
Just as she got inside, she heard Ethan Ellsworth’s voice from outside the door. "Young Master Grant is in here."
A flurry of approaching footsteps followed.
"Let’s help him back." That was Herman Hawthorne’s voice.
"Okay," said Jean Grant.
Soon, the room fell silent. The door closed with a soft click.
Nora Ainsworth came out of the bathroom. She put her hat and mask back on and followed them downstairs.
When she reached the main entrance, she saw the group helping Quentin Grant into a car, which then drove away.
She stood at the entrance, her eyes fixed on the direction they had disappeared, and walked home.
She opened the door to a cold, empty room.
Lying in bed, she was sleepless and alone.
When she woke up in the morning, she got up and put the diamond ring and the Jade Pendant on a chain around her neck. ’I really should return this diamond ring,’ she thought, ’but now doesn’t seem to be the time.’
She grabbed a change of clothes and her only savings card. The room was just as she’d left it; it didn’t seem like anything was missing.
She covered her face with a headscarf typically worn by ethnic minorities, leaving only her eyes visible, and left the rented apartment.
The streets were crowded in the early morning. She wanted to buy a one-bedroom apartment. ’How can I go on without a home?’
And so, she went to the sales office for the residential complex next to the "Temptation" club.
She was the real estate agent’s first customer of the day.
The complex mostly had small apartments, the kind typically meant for single people or young couples. Most were one-bedroom or two-bedroom layouts.
Led by the agent, she went to see an apartment. She chose the smallest available unit, a one-bedroom of just over fifty square meters on the eighth floor. It was a pre-owned apartment; the previous owner, also a young woman, had entrusted the sales office to sell it after getting married. The apartment was very new, exquisitely decorated, and looked very cozy.
