Chapter 317: Chapter 314: There’s Never ’I’m Sorry’, Only ’I Love You’ (10)
"You’re right, it has nothing to do with you. They’re your family. If one day they killed me, would you react the same way? I bet you would. Catherine Callahan has come after me time and time again, and you haven’t done a thing about it, have you? Quentin Grant, you’ve never been anything but good to me. You’ve been too good, I know. But when it comes to Chloe, I can’t ignore it. I can’t pretend I don’t know. Chloe was like family to me. Something happened to her, and her murderer is still walking free. And the murderer is your sister. She’s your sister, but wasn’t Chloe my sister, too?"
Quentin tried to pull her into a hug, but she shoved him away.
"Nora, please don’t be like this," he said, his voice softening.
*
She looked at him, tears streaming endlessly down her face. "I don’t want to be like this either, Quentin. But your family has gone too far. You’re all just bullies. Why is Catherine Callahan still living in your house? You two even slept together. The shock of that, on top of what happened to Chloe... I can’t forget it. It’s like a knife carving into my heart, over and over. You all bully the two of us so shamelessly—isn’t it just because we’re both orphans? And even now, you’re still telling me ’don’t be like this.’ Quentin, what right do you have to say that to me?"
"I swear it’s impossible we slept together. My mother drugged me, and I was unconscious the entire night. I’m not lying to you. How could I have possibly done *that* while I was unconscious?"
She turned away, her gaze fixed on the darkness outside the window. "Even your own mother is drugging you." She felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Quentin wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Nora, come back to my house with me. We’ll get married, okay? Nora, we’ll never be apart again."
Nora Ainsworth stood there, motionless as a puppet.
The plane landed at the airport in Alveria, Fravia.
He forced her into the car. Their destination: the Grant Residence.
A little over ten minutes later, the car pulled to a steady stop at the main gate of the Grant Estate.
He got out, gripping her arm tightly.
It was already eleven o’clock at night.
Jean Grant, Catherine Callahan, and Mr. and Mrs. Grant were all in the living room. Ever since Marlon Marshall’s late-night attack, Jean hadn’t dared to stay at her own place and had been living with her parents for the past several days.
The four people watching television were all stunned to see the two of them suddenly appear at the entrance.
Nora’s face was pale. At the sight of Jean Grant, her emotions threatened to spiral out of control again, and Quentin gripped her arm tightly.
He pulled her over to a seat opposite the others.
"We came back tonight to tell you that we’re getting married."
Mrs. Grant scrutinized them. "Married? Quentin, what kind of joke is this? You want to marry this sickly woman who can’t even have children?"
Nora remained silent, her eyes fixed on the floor.
"Mrs. Grant! Must you be so foul?" Quentin said, his voice laced with ice.
Mrs. Grant looked momentarily abashed, but inwardly she was thinking, ’See? My son came back to me after all. I told him long ago. You only get one mother, but there are plenty of women out there. He threw a fit for months, threatening to disown me, but didn’t he come crawling back in the end?’
"Fine, I won’t be so ’foul.’ I’ll support you marrying any other woman, but not her. Even if you hold a private wedding reception, don’t even think about getting a marriage license. I will absolutely never accept her as my daughter-in-law. That’s my final word on the matter."
"If that’s how you want to be," Quentin sneered, "then things are about to get unpleasant."
Catherine Callahan cried out joyfully, "Quentin, you’ve been gone for so long! I’ve been waiting for you at home every single day."
Quentin ignored her and continued, "Mrs. Grant, if you still want me as your son, you will remain silent on this matter. Say nothing. If you don’t want me as your son, then by all means, stick to your position."
Mrs. Grant sat up straighter. "Quentin, you are the only son of the Grant family. If you marry a barren hen, aren’t you trying to end our bloodline?"
"Nora’s health has recovered. Who says she can’t get pregnant?"
Mrs. Grant rolled her eyes. "We’ll see it when we see it. Besides, Quentin, Catherine is already carrying your child. When do you plan on making an honest woman of her?"
Quentin’s gaze snapped to Catherine Callahan, the glint in his eyes sharp enough to strike fear into anyone’s heart.
Sitting beside him, a loud ringing filled Nora’s ears. Her palms were icy cold, and her heart had gone completely numb.
"What did you say?" Quentin’s face was dark, like the calm before a raging storm.
Catherine placed a hand on her still-flat stomach. "Quentin, I’m carrying your child. I’m already two or three months along. Have you forgotten? That night, we were tangled in each other’s arms all night long—GAK!"
CRASH! The large glass cup on the coffee table was sent flying, shattering on the floor with a sharp, heavy sound. Shards of glass littered the ground.
He was on his feet, reaching across the coffee table to viciously seize Catherine Callahan by the throat.
It looked as if he was about to snap her neck.
Seeing this, Mrs. Grant rushed to pry Quentin’s hands away. "Quentin, what are you doing? Let her go!"
Quentin stared at her, his gaze lethal. "Catherine Callahan, when you plotted against me, you should have understood one thing: who you are won’t save you from death!"
Catherine’s face was turning a deep purple, and she was unable to speak.
Seeing that she was about to stop breathing, Mrs. Grant looked at Nora in a panic. "What are you just sitting there for? Can’t you see Quentin is about to kill her? She’s carrying his child!"
Nora sat there, perfectly still, as if Mrs. Grant hadn’t been speaking to her at all.
In her desperation, Mrs. Grant grabbed a large glass bowl and smashed it over Quentin’s head with all her might.
His vision went dark, and his body went limp.
His hands fell away.
Catherine gasped, taking in huge gulps of air as the color slowly returned to her face.
"Godmother, he... he almost killed me."
Mrs. Grant soothed her. "It’s all right, I’m here. Quickly, you and Jean help him upstairs. I think he’s passed out."
Catherine and Jean supported Quentin between them, slowly dragging him up the stairs.
In the vast living room, only three people remained: Mrs. Grant, still reeling from the scene; Mr. Grant, who hadn’t said a single word; and Nora Ainsworth, who looked as though she’d lost her soul.
"You shameless hussy, clinging to our Quentin all day. Now get the hell out of my house."
Mr. Grant could finally take no more. He glared at his wife. "What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?"
"I’m not trying to do anything. I just want her to get out."
Nora finally lifted her head and looked at Mrs. Grant. "Don’t worry, I’ll get out. But before I leave, there are a few things I must say."
"Then say it quickly and get out! The sight of you infuriates me!"
Nora straightened her back, a cold sneer on her lips. "I heard you and Ethan Ellsworth’s mother are dear sisters, but you’re nothing alike. You’re more like a smug mistress who schemed her way to the top. Mrs. Grant, the fact that you and Catherine Callahan are partners in crime proves you’re not a good person either. And with a daughter like Jean Grant, well, like mother, like daughter. How could Quentin possibly be happy living in a family like this? With a spineless father who isn’t even master of his own house? The whole family conspiring with an outsider against their own son... Truly, what a remarkable family you Grants are. Don’t be angry. This is just the person you are. And don’t you worry, I wouldn’t join a family like this even if you begged me. I find it filthy. Utterly filthy. I, Nora Ainsworth, would rather be a nun for the rest of my life than have you as my mother-in-law. Mrs. Grant, Heaven is watching what you do. Retribution isn’t a matter of if, but when. The more evil you commit, the sooner you will die."
She stood up and left without waiting for Mrs. Grant to respond.
Mrs. Grant was so enraged she clutched her chest, struggling to catch her breath. Pointing a trembling finger at the door, she shrieked, "What did she just say? That I’m like a smug mistress? Partners in crime with Catherine? That I’m not a good person? How dare that bitch say that to me! Does she not know who I am? I am the matriarch of the Grant family! What right does she have to lecture me!"
Mr. Grant stood up, his face livid. "Was she wrong about any of it? A woman who schemes against her own son—what kind of good woman is that? I’ve had more than enough of you over the years!"
He turned and stormed upstairs.
Mrs. Grant couldn’t believe what she was hearing from her own husband. She watched his retreating back, her entire body trembling with rage.
Nora walked along the road, feeling weaker with every step. A bitter, suffocating pain crushed her chest.
She collapsed onto the curb, burying her head in her knees and sobbing quietly.
’He lied to me.’
’Catherine Callahan is pregnant, and he still claimed he was unconscious all night.’
’It’s really over between us.’
’I wanted to be brave. I wanted to fight with everything I had, just to be with him.’
’But being brave isn’t enough.’
’How can I let go of all this... this reality?’
’A moment ago, it took every ounce of my self-control not to lunge at Jean Grant.’
’It wasn’t for Quentin’s sake. I just didn’t want to become a screeching harpy, demanding justice.’
’No matter what I do, Chloe is never coming back.’
"Nora?"
Nora lifted her head. Through blurry eyes, she saw someone walking toward her.
A pair of hands wiped the tears from her face.
She could finally see the person in front of her.
"It really is you."
Leon Lynch was overjoyed, but then his brows furrowed. "Why are you crying?"
To his surprise, Nora threw her arms around him. "Leon, can I just borrow your shoulder for a moment?"
Her action sent a thrill through him. "Get in the car."
He took her back to his place.
He poured her a glass of water. "What happened?"
"Nothing," she said, holding the cup.
"You don’t look like ’nothing’s wrong’," Leon sighed. "I’ve been looking for you. Where did you go? I heard you ran away and that Quentin Grant was tracking you everywhere. I searched for so long but couldn’t find any sign of you."
"I’m sleepy. I want to go to bed."
"You can take the bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch."
"Thank you." She felt unsteady on her feet as she walked.
Leon watched the bedroom door close, then took out a blanket and pillow and lay down on the couch. He kept glancing at the door, unable to hide the small spark of happiness in his heart.
Meanwhile, the person in the bedroom lay awake all night.
She didn’t fall into a deep sleep until the early hours of the morning.
