Chapter 162: Chapter 160: You are my woman, of course I’ll dote on you (11)
He had never been on Weibo, but he created an account just to follow her.
Looking at her Weibo profile picture, Quentin Grant held his breath, staring intently. Before long, tears streamed down his face.
’Has it gotten to the point where he can’t even control himself just from looking at a photo?’
After her last appearance on a variety show, Nora Ainsworth’s Weibo followers exploded, and the budding actress became the new internet goddess.
She had a small face with delicate features and was stunningly beautiful even without makeup. With her model-like figure, she could make any outfit look good. Although she didn’t have any works to her name yet, many netizens were already looking forward to her starring role in an urban romance drama.
Seeing this trend, President Harding’s confidence in Nora Ainsworth’s path to stardom grew immensely.
Three days later, the script, director, and cast were finalized. The stylish urban romance drama, produced by Zenith Corporation, was scheduled to officially begin filming at a film studio in ten days.
The male lead was none other than Ethan Ellsworth, with Nora Ainsworth as the female lead. As expected, the second female lead was Madam Shaw, while the second male lead was to be played by the nation’s up-and-coming pretty-boy actor, Ryan.
The director was Cecelia Willow, a female director who had successfully filmed several famous television series. What Nora Ainsworth hadn’t expected was that the third female lead was actually Sharon Ainsworth. Sharon was a TV station anchor who had never acted in a drama before, and Nora had no idea how she got the role.
However, Nora Ainsworth felt she was perfectly typecast, as her character in the show was a rather scheming woman—and Nora’s love rival.
After reading the entire script, Nora Ainsworth felt the show had a lot of appeal.
She decided to join the production team early, right after the new show’s press conference.
Meanwhile, today was also the day for Jean Grant’s traditional homecoming visit after her wedding.
She prepared gifts and returned to the Grant family home with Marlon Marshall.
Mrs. Grant had been so infuriated by Mrs. Marshall three days prior that she hadn’t left the house since.
When she saw the couple arrive, she couldn’t very well show her displeasure, so she made small talk with Jean Grant in a detached manner.
But when she heard Jean Grant say that Mrs. Marshall had moved into the villa with them the very next day, Mrs. Grant’s expression changed instantly. She pointedly criticized her daughter in front of Marlon Marshall, "Jean, are you a fool? That woman is not someone to be trifled with. Do you think you’ll have any peace living with her? Why do you think I bought you a house? It was so you could be happy."
Marlon Marshall cut in, "Mother-in-law, my mom is getting on in years, and I’m her only son. It’s only natural that I take care of her. What’s wrong with having her move in with us? And what makes you say she’s difficult?"
Mrs. Grant was livid. "Your mother has one son, but don’t I have a daughter? Not only do you not consider things from Jean’s perspective, you listen to everything your mother says. If your mother told you to divorce Jean, would you do that too?!"
Marlon Marshall fell silent.
Seeing this, Mrs. Grant said no more.
As soon as they left the Grant family home, Marlon Marshall said in the car, "Your mother is so arrogant. If she looks down on me, she should just say it. Does she have to trash my mom like that?"
Jean Grant remained silent. She didn’t want to argue with him just days after their wedding. Silence was the best approach.
"Jean Grant, you were the one who proposed marriage. If you hadn’t, I would have been studying for my grad school entrance exams. Now that we’re married, you have to listen to me, not your mother. Understand?"
Jean Grant glanced at him. "Since we’re married, shouldn’t you listen to me instead of your mother, too? If you can do that, so can I. Didn’t I already ignore my mother’s words by marrying you? Are you blaming me for proposing marriage?"
Marlon Marshall snorted. "Before we were married, you listened to everything I said. Now that we have a ring on it, you’re starting to get bossy, is that it? You have a good family background, so you feel superior, don’t you?"
Jean Grant didn’t want to argue further. "Can’t help it. My parents are capable, and I was born lucky."
Marlon Marshall didn’t say another word until the car stopped in front of their new home.
Just as they reached the living room doorway, they heard Mrs. Marshall’s scolding voice. "It’s perfectly good, what a waste to throw it away. You’re old enough, how can you not know how to be frugal?"
She was talking to the housekeeper.
Jean Grant walked in to see Mrs. Marshall standing there, lecturing the housekeeper, who just stood there, looking flustered.
"What’s wrong?"
The housekeeper looked up and walked toward her. "Miss."
"What happened?"
The housekeeper didn’t know what to say, but Mrs. Marshall spoke up. "She was about to throw out this morning’s porridge. It’s perfectly fine, still edible, it hasn’t gone bad. You’d think someone around my age would know how to run a household. How can she be so wasteful? Can she even compare to me?"
The housekeeper lowered her head and said, "Miss, you know that back home, your mother never let us serve leftovers from breakfast."
Jean Grant nodded, then looked at Mrs. Marshall. "The porridge is from this morning. We shouldn’t eat it. We can just make a fresh pot."
Mrs. Marshall refused to yield. "You’re such a wasteful woman! Why can’t it be eaten? It doesn’t even smell funny. Our Drake must have had terrible luck for eight generations to end up marrying you!"
Jean Grant stood her ground and looked at the housekeeper. "Do as you were going to do. Follow my instructions."
Marlon Marshall watched her go upstairs, looking somewhat helpless. He walked over to Mrs. Marshall and said in a low voice, "Alright, Mom. It’s just a bowl of porridge, it’s not a big deal."
Mrs. Marshall said earnestly, "Drake, you have to understand. Back in the day, I raised you by drinking porridge every single day. Wasting food is just wrong."
Marlon Marshall nodded. "I’ll talk to her. Don’t take it to heart."
At dinner that evening, Jean Grant went upstairs as soon as she finished eating, not exchanging a single word with Mrs. Marshall.
They had only been married for a few days, but she already felt exhausted, as if she had been suffering in hell for ages.
After showering and getting into bed, Marlon Marshall lay down beside her. She nudged him. "Go take a shower."
Marlon Marshall didn’t move. "Jean, from now on, can you please not embarrass my mom like that?"
Jean Grant paused. "How did I embarrass her?"
Marlon Marshall sat up. "You still deny it? What about just now? It’s difficult for me when you two don’t get along."
Jean Grant thought for a moment, then nodded. "I understand. Now go take a shower."
Marlon Marshall started taking off his clothes. "I don’t want to. I showered yesterday."
Mrs. Marshall was sitting by the door, listening to their conversation, and an unpleasant feeling stirred within her.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
Quentin Grant didn’t look up. "Come in."
Charlotte Young came in, bag in hand. "Quentin, it’s almost the end of the workday. Shall we go to dinner?"
Quentin Grant’s expression didn’t change. "What are you doing here?"
Charlotte Young walked around the desk and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. "What a thing to say. I’m your fiancée now, so of course I should come by often. You haven’t called me in days. Let’s have dinner together tonight."
"I don’t have time. I’m meeting Ethan Ellsworth tonight."
Charlotte Young put on a pouting act. "Am I less important than your buddies?"
Quentin Grant’s gaze was deep. "What do you think? Don’t get confused about your place. Take your hands off me!"
His words were brutally sharp, and they made Charlotte Young’s heart pound with anxiety.
She awkwardly let go. "Since you’re busy tonight, I’ll come back another day."
"Wait." Quentin Grant stood up. "Let’s go together."
Hearing this, Charlotte Young’s face instantly lit up. "Okay."
Quentin Grant put on his suit jacket, adjusted his tie, and turned to look at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. A new idea formed in his mind, a glimmer in his almond-shaped eyes.
’It’s been torture not seeing her for days. Tonight, Nora Ainsworth, are you ready to see me again?’
’Even if this is pathetic of me,’ Quentin Grant thought, ’I’m the only one who has to know. I’ll make her feel it again, make her understand that without me, she’s a fish out of water, unable to breathe.’
’He would wait and see if the fish would take the bait. Nora Ainsworth, you are fated to be my woman. I will never let you go!’
’With that thought, Quentin Grant suddenly felt much better. She didn’t want him? He would find a way to make her need him as desperately as ever. And then, he would let her taste what it felt like.’
At eight in the evening, in an upscale restaurant.
In a large private room, Herman Hawthorne, Ethan Ellsworth, Chloe Marshall, and Nora Ainsworth were seated around a table.
After they had been sitting for a while without ordering, Nora Ainsworth said, "Let’s order."
Ethan Ellsworth cleared his throat and said, "Someone else is still on their way."
Nora Ainsworth immediately knew who it was. She said nothing.
Herman Hawthorne spoke up. "Nora, if this is uncomfortable for you, you could eat first and then leave?"
"It’s fine, I don’t care," Nora Ainsworth said, feigning nonchalance. "I’ve already forgotten all about him. Men are a dime a dozen."
Everyone inwardly cringed. Men might be a dime a dozen, but you couldn’t find another one like Quentin Grant even if you searched forever.
Herman Hawthorne laughed. "Good to hear. But hey, Nora, how about you consider me? I’m much better in bed than Young Master Grant."
Nora Ainsworth smiled charmingly, her peripheral vision having already caught sight of a certain someone standing at the door. "Boss, is it true that any woman who gets into your bed can’t get out of it?"
Since Herman Hawthorne’s back was to the door, he didn’t see the person standing there. He beamed. "Goes without saying."
Chloe Marshall whispered a warning, "Young Master Hawthorne, Young Master Grant is here."
The smile on Herman Hawthorne’s face instantly froze. He immediately stood up to greet him. "Yo, you’re here! Why so low-key? Come on, have a seat."
Quentin Grant took off his sunglasses, his expression stern. Behind him was Charlotte Young.
Seeing Charlotte Young, the group’s enthusiasm immediately dampened.
After taking a seat, Quentin Grant asked, "Herman, are you planning on picking up my sloppy seconds?"
With that one sentence, the color drained from Nora Ainsworth’s face, but she quickly hid her reaction.
Chloe Marshall’s expression turned ugly. She looked at Nora Ainsworth and retorted, "If she was ruined, wasn’t it by some unknown animal that defiled her? It’s like a pristine field of snow, and then some dog comes along and takes a dump on it."
Quentin Grant didn’t get angry. He merely glanced at Ethan Ellsworth out of the corner of his eye. "Your assistant is getting real classy."
The corner of Ethan Ellsworth’s mouth twitched. He forced a smile. "Come on, let’s order. What’s with all this crude talk? It’s unseemly."
Charlotte Young picked up the menu. "I’ll order."
She looked at Quentin Grant. "What would you like to eat?"
Quentin Grant was the picture of gentleness. "Just order whatever you like."
It was the first time Charlotte Young had been doted on like this in front of his friends. One can only imagine how thrilled she was, especially with Nora Ainsworth watching. Her delight was beyond words.
"Quentin, you spoil me too much," she cooed, not forgetting to shoot a triumphant glance at Nora Ainsworth.
"You’re my woman. Of course I have to dote on you."
