Chapter 303: Chapter 300: Just Because You Are My Woman (13)
"That’s out of the question!" Mrs. Grant’s reaction was, as expected, intense. "Quentin is the only heir to our family. If we adopt a child who isn’t our own blood, who will inherit a company as large as the Grant Group in the future?"
Catherine Callahan said dejectedly, "I’d love to have a son for Quentin, but he won’t give me the chance."
Mrs. Grant grasped her hand. "You’re a good girl. Your godmother knows you don’t have a bad bone in your body. I want Quentin to marry you, too. That way, when your parents come back, I can atone, at least a little."
Catherine Callahan said boldly, "Godmother, actually, that’s very easy to achieve. I just don’t know if you’re willing to help."
"What?"
"It’s a plan that kills two birds with one stone," Catherine Callahan coaxed. "It can help me get pregnant and also ensure that Nora Ainsworth never forgives our Quentin. That way, he’ll no longer be under her spell."
Mrs. Grant’s eyes lit up. "What’s the plan?"
Catherine Callahan thought for a moment before speaking boldly, "Godmother, when Quentin and I were together before... to be honest with you, we were together plenty of times. It would be easy for us to be together again. We just need to use a little trick. It may be a dirty one, but as long as it works, that’s all that matters."
"Be more specific."
Catherine Callahan leaned in and whispered in her ear for a good while. After hearing her out, Mrs. Grant thought the plan was feasible.
"It is indeed a despicable method, but I think it’s a good one. It’s just... Catherine, dear, you have a bad heart and an eye condition. Can your body handle it? Can you get pregnant?"
Catherine Callahan was resolute. "It’s because of my poor health that I lost Quentin and he fell in love with someone else. Now, I just want to win him back. I can do it. To get pregnant for him... Godmother, I am willing to bear any and all consequences."
Mrs. Grant was incredibly moved. "You truly are such a kind, good girl."
A flicker of sadness crossed Catherine Callahan’s eyes. "What can I say? I just love him so much. Godmother, as long as you help me, this is bound to succeed. Once the news gets out, Nora Ainsworth will be furious with Quentin. And to avoid being labeled an unfaithful man, Quentin will give the child a home. When that happens, I’ll be sure to dote on you."
Hearing this, Mrs. Grant agreed that it was an excellent idea—the best of both worlds.
She thought for a moment, then said, "Catherine, you have one chance. You must succeed; failure is not an option. He’s my son, after all. This is the last time I can help you."
Catherine Callahan threw her arms around her and gave Mrs. Grant a peck on the cheek, saying happily, "Thank you, Godmother!"
Mrs. Grant took out her phone and called Quentin. "Come home for dinner tonight. I’ve decided to approve of you and Nora Ainsworth."
Quentin Grant’s eyes instantly lit up. "Really? Mom, you’ve come around?"
"You want this so badly. If I didn’t come around, wouldn’t I just be making things difficult for my own son? Come home tonight."
"Okay."
Mrs. Grant hung up and said to Catherine Callahan, "Go get ready. We’ll wait for Quentin to come home tonight. Whether or not you get pregnant this time is up to fate."
Catherine Callahan nodded emphatically.
You can be on guard against anyone and anything, but you never think to be on guard against your own parents.
Quentin Grant was wary of others, but he never deliberately put his guard up around his mother. He couldn’t believe she would ever harm her own son.
And as it happens, the most unguarded people are often the ones who get hurt the most deeply.
That evening, Quentin Grant returned to the Grant family home.
Mrs. Grant had prepared a table full of food.
Catherine Callahan was not at the dinner table.
"Here’s a toast from your mother. I now approve of you two being together. You should bring her home soon."
Mr. Grant was taken aback. "Weren’t you just saying last night that you’d rather die than agree? Why the sudden change of heart?"
Mrs. Grant huffed. "What, I’m not allowed to want to stop being enemies with my own son?"
Mr. Grant could only reply, "You are, you are. I never said you weren’t."
Quentin Grant clinked glasses with him. "Thanks, Mom."
Mrs. Grant smiled. "Quentin, after dinner, go help Mommy take a look at the computer."
"Okay."
Forty minutes later, Mrs. Grant went upstairs to find her son slumped over the desk in her room. The incense burning beside him had already turned to a pile of ash.
Mrs. Grant and Catherine Callahan helped Quentin Grant to a room that had been prepared in advance.
The moment Mrs. Grant stepped out, Catherine Callahan locked the door from the inside.
She slowly approached the bed, her heart pounding relentlessly.
Her hair was let down, and the heating in the room was turned up high.
Her clothes fell away, piece by piece.
Finally, she was bare. Her slender body moved closer to him, her fingers unbuttoning his clothes one by one.
The night stretched on, and outside, it began to snow.
Quentin Grant’s car was parked outside the main gate. Overnight, it was buried under a thick blanket of snow.
Mrs. Grant slept restlessly that night. She felt an inexplicable sense of panic, and her tossing and turning kept Mr. Grant from sleeping well, too.
At six in the morning, he sat up. "You’ve been like this all night. You can’t sleep, and you won’t let anyone else sleep either."
Mrs. Grant said uneasily, "Honey, I think I’ve done something wrong."
Mr. Grant answered sullenly, "What did you do wrong?"
"Quentin and Catherine spent the night together."
Mr. Grant didn’t understand. "What?"
"Last night, I deliberately said I’d let him be with Nora Ainsworth just to lure him here so he could be drugged. Catherine was in the room, and the two of them, for the whole night—"
She didn’t finish her sentence.
Mr. Grant felt the air leave his lungs. He could hardly believe his ears as he switched on the light.
Looking at Mrs. Grant, he was filled with uncontrollable rage. "Even if we feel we owe Catherine, you can’t gamble with Quentin’s happiness! I think you’ve really gone mad!"
He hastily threw on his clothes.
"Where are you going?!"
"To wake Quentin up, of course."
Mrs. Grant grew frantic. "You can’t! If you go, you’ll be admitting I did this! If you go now, what if Quentin never comes back?! If you don’t go, we can just say he got drunk last night and stumbled into Catherine’s room by mistake! Besides, Nora Ainsworth can’t even get pregnant. If Quentin marries her, that’s the end of the Grant family line!"
Only then did Mr. Grant pause. "What did you say?"
"I said Nora Ainsworth has uterine cancer! Quentin himself said she had surgery and can’t get pregnant anymore. And he’s so damn stubborn! Tell me, am I wrong for letting Catherine get pregnant with a child for the Grant family?"
"Is what you’re saying true?"
"Of course. Otherwise, why would I have done this?"
Mr. Grant sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed. "Our son is walking his old man’s path all over again."
When Mrs. Grant heard this, she flew into a rage born of shame. "After all these years, the thing I hate most is you bringing up the past! I’ve been with you, borne you a son and a daughter, so how have I wronged you? And don’t even get me started on your son—he’s exactly like you, with that ’love above all’ nonsense baked into his bones! You were so high and mighty back then, but didn’t you still end up marrying me?"
Mr. Grant couldn’t be bothered to argue and stood up again.
"Where are you going?"
"Just going for a walk."
Mrs. Grant couldn’t sleep either, so she had no choice but to get dressed.
She sat in the living room, her heart in a panic, clutching a cup of hot tea.
Time ticked by, second by second, until it was eight o’clock.
