Chapter 165: Chapter 163: He Is Still the Man Who Moves My Heart (Part 3)
Zeke Marshall opened the car door and asked, "Nora, you’re going to the set tomorrow. Bring two outfits."
"I know." After closing the door, Nora Ainsworth snuck onto the balcony and looked down.
Quentin Grant was no longer at the villa’s entrance. Just as she was about to turn and go back inside, she glanced up and stumbled back in shock.
It turned out Quentin Grant was standing on the third floor of his villa, watching her with a smile.
She hesitated for a moment before turning and shutting the balcony door.
Just as she lay down on the bed, she got a call from Chloe Marshall. "Nora, we have to fly to Haleport now, so we won’t be back tonight. Boss Ellsworth says he’ll be on set on time tomorrow afternoon."
"Okay, Zeke and I will head straight there tomorrow morning."
After hanging up, she opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of juice, and twisted it open. She took a few sips before tossing it onto the table.
Exhausted, she lay on the bed and fell asleep in no time.
When she woke up again, it was already past nine. Nora Ainsworth took a shower, changed, and went downstairs to buy a few things.
As soon as she stepped out of the building, she saw Charlotte Young standing across the way.
She pretended not to see her and was about to walk past, but Charlotte Young called out to her.
"Nora Ainsworth."
"What is it?"
Charlotte Young walked over to her. "You live across the street?"
"That’s right."
Hearing this, Charlotte Young grew annoyed. "Are you still trying to seduce my fiancé, Quentin? Don’t you forget, I’m his fiancée now."
"I’m not interested in whose fiancée you are." Her tone was cold.
Charlotte Young thought she was doing it on purpose. "Not interested? Stop pretending. Does it hurt? The woman standing by his side now is me, not you."
"Then congratulations. I hope you become Mrs. Grant soon."
She turned to leave, but Charlotte Young jogged forward to block her path. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
"I’m congratulating you."
"Who asked for your congratulations!" Charlotte Young was furious. "Do you know, Nora Ainsworth? Every time I see your face, it pisses me off."
"My face is the one my parents gave me. It’s no use getting pissed off about it. Besides, what does you being pissed off have to do with me?"
"You sure are hard to kill. You know what they say: the good die young, but a menace lives for a thousand years. It’s completely true."
Nora Ainsworth scoffed. "Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself with that ’menace lives for a thousand years’ line? Miss Young, I think you’ve got it backward. I’m surprised Catherine Callahan arranged for someone with your intellect to be by Quentin Grant’s side. She must have really overestimated you."
"I wonder what would happen to your acting career if word got out that you’ve been some man’s secret mistress?" Charlotte Young’s lips curled into a smirk.
Nora Ainsworth calmly retorted, "You need evidence to make claims like that. Slandering someone without proof can have legal consequences."
Charlotte Young said with conviction, "These days, do you think netizens care about what’s real or fake? Besides, it’s not like it isn’t true, is it?"
"What does it matter if it’s true or not? What’s the big deal about a celebrity dating someone? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill."
Charlotte Young snorted. "Quentin got tired of you. I wonder who you’re planning to sink your teeth into now that you’re living in this complex? Which sugar daddy is next? You—"
Her words died in her throat. At some point, Quentin Grant had appeared, standing not far from them. Seeing him, Nora Ainsworth said nothing more and simply walked away.
The sophisticated, elegant image Charlotte Young had always cultivated was shattered. She knew she had lost her composure, but she didn’t realize that her image, shattered or not, meant nothing to Quentin Grant.
"Quentin—" Charlotte Young called out timidly.
He stood there without even glancing at her. "Go home."
Charlotte Young couldn’t believe it. She had been sent away right in front of Nora Ainsworth, without even making it through his front door.
"But I’ve been waiting here for you for so long."
Quentin Grant watched Nora Ainsworth’s figure retreat into the distance before turning his gaze on Charlotte. "What were you just saying to her? Hmm?"
For some reason, she didn’t dare say another word. "I—I didn’t say anything—"
"Nothing?" he repeated, as if to himself. "You threatened to expose Nora Ainsworth as a kept woman, didn’t you?" He slowly advanced on her.
As he closed in, Charlotte Young slowly backed away. "Quentin, I know I shouldn’t have said it, but I feel terrible. I’m your fiancée, so why is all your attention on Nora Ainsworth? If you like her, why not just be with her? Don’t you think this is unfair to me? I’m a woman, too. I also want a boyfriend’s care and affection, but you won’t spare even a shred of it for me."
"Too bad you’ll never get that from me. It’s not too late, you know. We can call off the engagement. It’s just a matter of saying the word." His tone was casual, but his words sent Charlotte Young plummeting into despair.
’Getting engaged, calling it off, even getting married... to him, they were all just words. The one who truly held a place in his heart would never be her.’
"Then why did you get engaged to me? Don’t you think that’s too cruel to me?"
"You just happened to show up at the right time. To me, you’re no different from any other woman." He answered without a shred of hesitation.
Charlotte Young suddenly straightened her posture. "I’ll be heading back, then. You should get some rest. Good night."
She turned and left quickly.
Quentin Grant walked to the building across the street. Standing in the stairwell, he called property management. "Cut the power to the building opposite mine for one hour."
Then he hung up and headed up the stairs.
’The thought of her going to the set tomorrow, of not being able to see her openly for months, made him feel like an insect spiraling out of control, buzzing chaotically all over the place.’
When he reached the third floor, he stood by the window and looked down. In the distance, Nora Ainsworth’s figure was approaching.
He stood in the stairwell, waiting for her to come up.
The sound of her footsteps grew clearer, unsettling him.
’Quentin Grant thought he could face Nora Ainsworth calmly, but the memory of the cruel things he’d said to her made him feel like he was just debasing himself again.’
Just as Nora Ainsworth reached the second floor, he shot up and scrambled up the stairs. He ran, panting, to the landing between the fourth and fifth floors, terrified she would see him. In his haste, he missed a step and twisted his ankle. He barely managed to sit down on the steps to rest.
Nora Ainsworth soon reached the fourth floor. Using her phone as a flashlight, she took out her keys to open the door.
Quentin Grant peeked out and saw her step inside. The door promptly shut behind her.
He slowly made his way down, his foot throbbing with a piercing pain that made him walk slowly.
He had just descended half a flight of stairs and reached Nora Ainsworth’s door when it was suddenly pulled open again.
Bathed in the light of her phone, Nora Ainsworth and Quentin Grant came face to face in the pitch-black stairwell.
She looked at him and spoke first. "President Grant, are you climbing stairs in the middle of the night to lose weight?"
At that moment, the first thing that came to his mind was: ’I didn’t start this conversation, she did. Replying doesn’t mean I’m going back on the cruel things I said, right?’
