Chapter 138: Chapter 136: Did You Go Lay an Egg? (7)
"Mom! That’s enough!" Quentin Grant’s expression was grim. "We need to have a serious talk about this."
Mrs. Grant nodded. "That’s what I was thinking, too. Come home for dinner tonight. You and Jean must be there. I’ll be waiting for you."
She turned and walked away. At the door, she looked back one last time. "You come back alone."
Morning sunlight still dappled the floor in countless spots, but the temperature indoors refused to climb.
Quentin Grant walked over to Nora Ainsworth and cupped her face, his voice full of pain. "Nora, I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?"
Nora Ainsworth gave a wry smile. "You’re not the one who hit me. What do you have to be sorry for?"
He took her hand. "Come upstairs with me. I’ll put some ointment on it."
Nora Ainsworth didn’t say a word, letting him lead her upstairs.
Ethan Ellsworth and Chloe Marshall were suddenly the only ones left in the living room.
"Boss Ellsworth, do you wealthy families always insist on marrying into a family of equal social standing?"
Ethan Ellsworth answered sullenly, "Hasn’t it always been that way?"
"So, Boss Ellsworth, has your mother set you up on blind dates?"
A hint of resignation crept into Ethan Ellsworth’s voice. "How could I avoid them? Every time I go to a party, she’s dragging me off to meet someone. I’m at the stage where they’re trying to force me into marriage. It’s not just me, either. It’s the same for Young Master Hawthorne."
Chloe Marshall looked down at her fingers, a sense of desolation creeping into her heart. ’How am I any different from Nora?’
Quentin Grant took out some ointment and gently applied it to Nora Ainsworth’s cheek. "Is there anything you want to ask me?"
Nora Ainsworth slipped off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed. "What’s the relationship between Catherine Callahan and your mother?"
Quentin Grant’s hand paused. "Are you worried this will affect our relationship? As long as I’m here, it’ll be fine."
Nora Ainsworth shook her head. "I just want to know what their relationship is. Your mother didn’t like her before. For her to have such a huge change of heart, it must be something serious."
"It’s not something I can explain in just a few words. When we have time, I’ll tell you everything, bit by bit."
Nora Ainsworth knew this must be a Grant family secret, so she didn’t press him. "Okay. You should spend the afternoon with Ethan Ellsworth. I didn’t sleep well last night, so I want to get some more rest."
"Don’t overthink it. There’s no problem we can’t solve."
He pulled the covers over her, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Nora Ainsworth gazed around the bedroom. She lay there quietly, staring at the ceiling.
Thinking back on how her relationship with Quentin Grant had changed, Nora Ainsworth suddenly recalled what she’d said last night—that it felt like a beautiful dream. She was afraid that one day she would wake up from that dream. What would she do then? Where would she stand? Those words churned violently in her heart. ’Can he and I really make it to the end?’
’Perhaps I was being too naive. I thought being brave was all it would take, but things aren’t that simple.’
Leon Lynch had been waiting at the hotel entrance for a long time when the servant finally appeared, dawdling as they dragged the luggage. Maeve Sutton was trailing right beside them.
He snorted. "What took you so long, did you go lay an egg? Why not just move into the room?"
The servant looked miserable. "Young Master, Miss Sutton insisted on following me. I couldn’t shake her."
Leon Lynch sneered again. "What are the bodyguards for, decoration?"
He turned to the four big, burly bodyguards. "Hold her back."
"But, the Madam called and specifically said that if we dared to interfere, we shouldn’t even think about coming back," one of the bodyguards said, his tone full of resignation.
Leon Lynch turned and took the luggage from the servant. "In that case, the lot of you can stop following me, starting now."
He started walking off, dragging his luggage, and the group immediately followed, Maeve Sutton included.
Leon Lynch hailed a taxi, jumped in, and the car took off as soon as the door closed.
The others got in a car and gave chase.
Finally, Leon Lynch climbed from the back seat into the front. "Move," he told the driver. "I’m driving."
Before the driver could even process what was happening, Leon Lynch slammed his foot on the brake.
The car screeched to a halt. The driver was forced into the back seat as Leon took the wheel.
Just as the other car was about to catch up, he floored the accelerator. The taxi shot forward so fast that even the driver couldn’t handle it. "Slow down! Safety first!"
Leon Lynch ignored him completely. He glanced in the rearview mirror, a cold smirk playing on his lips, and started driving erratically through the unfamiliar city streets.
One of his other hobbies was street racing. He was fully confident in his driving skills and knew he could lose them.
He hadn’t raced much since he met Nora Ainsworth, but his skills hadn’t dulled one bit.
He had originally planned to head to the airport and go home, but now, he didn’t feel like it anymore.
’What’s the point of going back to a place where she isn’t?’
That afternoon, just before dinner, Quentin Grant drove back to the Grant Residence.
Sure enough, Jean Grant was there. Even Mr. Grant, Master Grant, and Grandma Grant were present. It looked like a full family council was about to convene.
They were just waiting for him.
He sat on the sofa with a grim expression and crossed his legs. "Mom, you were completely out of line this morning."
Mrs. Grant jabbed a finger at him. "Me, out of line? I raised you, I cultivated you! How much blood, sweat, and tears did I pour into you? All so you could marry that orphan girl? And you, Jean!" She turned on her daughter. "Couldn’t you find anyone better? You had to pick him? I’ve already made inquiries. Marlon Marshall’s mother has a terrible reputation in their neighborhood. She’s a notorious penny-pincher with a bad temper, and she’s a meddling busybody. I will absolutely not approve of you two."
Jean Grant retorted, "I’m going to be living with him, not his mother!"
Master Grant adjusted his reading glasses and spoke in a clear voice. "It seems the house hasn’t been very peaceful while I’ve been away. Quentin, you’re not a child anymore. You’re twenty-five this year. You have your own worldview, your own values, your own opinions. Grandpa doesn’t want to sound like he’s despising the poor and fawning over the rich, but my point is, if the entire family is against it, you shouldn’t be with this girl. Even if you stubbornly marry her, what kind of life will you have afterward?"
"Grandpa, she’s a good girl. You’ll all come to like her."
Master Grant was blunt. "I like Sharon from the Ainsworth family. Why didn’t you bring her home instead? You broke an engagement that lasted for years. You young people are so impulsive. Marriage is for a lifetime; how can you be so reckless?"
Quentin Grant felt a headache coming on. "Grandpa, the thing with Sharon Ainsworth was a long time ago. We’re talking about Nora and me right now. Let’s not bring her into it."
Master Grant nodded. "Fine, we won’t talk about her. In that case, your grandmother and I have made our position clear: we fully support your mother’s opinion."
Mr. Grant nodded. "Quentin, your mother told me everything about Catherine. I’ve already pulled some strings to handle her situation. We couldn’t find her before, and we didn’t know she was *that* child. If we had known, we certainly would have approved of your marriage back then. Now, your mother and I regret it. So, between Catherine and Nora Ainsworth, the family’s position is the same as your mother’s. We do not approve of you being with Nora Ainsworth."
Quentin Grant was left speechless. "Since you all disapprove, I just won’t bring her home in the future. That way, you won’t have to see her."
