Deceiving Her Ears: Ignoring Your Call-Chapter 86: A Suspicious Death

Isaac’s eyes turned sharp and cold.

He threw away his cigarette, bent his elbow to press it against Tristan Jordan’s neck, pinning him to the wall.

"Say one more fucking word of nonsense and see what happens!"

Tristan’s expression didn’t change. He braced his hand against Isaac’s elbow and forcefully pushed him away.

"Cough, cough."

He turned his head to cough twice, then looked back at Isaac, his gaze indifferent: "Second Young Master Vaughn, are you sure I’m talking nonsense?"

He stepped closer, leaned in toward Isaac, and spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"Miss Kendall suffered psychological trauma from an accident, which led to partial memory loss. That was my diagnosis for her at the time."

Isaac’s body jolted, his expression growing unbearably ugly as he looked at Tristan.

"I will do everything I can to heal Miss Kendall and help her recover."

He paused, Tristan’s lips curling into a half-smile: "But judging from your reaction, why does it seem like you don’t want Miss Kendall to regain her memory?"

He laughed, tone half-teasing: "What, did you do something to let her down? Is that why you’re afraid she’ll remember?"

*

When Isaac got back, his face looked terrible.

Natalie suggested they should head home.

The two of them returned, showered, and lay down together in bed.

Isaac hugged Natalie tightly from behind, squeezing her so hard she could barely breathe, making it impossible for her to sleep.

She shifted, turned to face him, and reached out to touch his eyebrow.

"What’s wrong? Did something happen?"

Isaac shook his head.

He hugged her tighter.

"Little Ear."

"Mm?"

"If one day you found out I..." lied to you.

"What?"

"It’s nothing." He kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep."

The next day, the two returned to Janton. As soon as they arrived, Isaac got a call from Vanessa, asking him to hurry back to the old house.

When Isaac walked in, he immediately saw his grandfather’s back in the wheelchair.

Hearing the commotion, Old Mr. Grant turned his wheelchair.

He looked at Isaac—this grandson he used to dote on the most—and his eyes held none of the old tenderness, only rage and resentment.

"Isaac, do you really... are you trying to drive your grandpa to his grave?"

Old Mr. Grant accused, his voice full of grief and anger.

Isaac’s face darkened.

Vanessa hurried over and knelt by her father’s wheelchair, holding his arm. "Dad, what are you saying? How could Isaac ever do that?"

"Why not?" Old Mr. Grant looked at his beloved daughter.

Even the closeness of the past was gone from his gaze.

"Vanessa, I treated you like a treasure in my palm, cherished you from childhood. But your son, the good son you raised—he wants the Grant family, he wants this old man’s life!"

"You’re part of the Grant family, too! Vanessa, you still carry the Grant name!"

As Old Mr. Grant spoke, tears streamed down his face.

He’d once dominated the business world.

Even when he was forced into desperate straits, nothing had ever left him so hopeless.

A man who prized dignity and reputation above all was now crying.

And he was still her father.

Vanessa’s heart was in shreds.

"Dad, Dad, I..."

She collapsed onto Old Mr. Grant’s knees, sobbing so hard she struggled to breathe.

Ansel cradled his wife with heartache, hurrying forward to help her up.

Old Mr. Grant sneered coldly: "At least Vanessa has someone who cares for her. But me—even if I die, probably no one will so much as furrow a brow."

"Grandpa." Isaac stepped forward. "Don’t say that."

"I’m begging you! Isaac!" Old Mr. Grant lifted his head, eyes red. "Isaac, your grandpa is begging you! You and Natalie already got your marriage license! You’re married! And you kept it from me, made me look like a fool!"

"You know perfectly well the Grant family needs a marriage alliance with the Beckett Group! That’s our only way out, but you had to shut that door!"

"Your uncle, he... in his state... can’t you even show some pity for your grandpa? Should I get on my knees? Isaac, will you divorce Natalie for me? I’m begging you!"

As he spoke, Old Mr. Grant really tried to get down from his wheelchair.

How could they possibly let him kneel?

Isaac hurried to hold him down. "Grandpa!"

"Isaac, even Old Mr. Grant is begging you now."

Ethan, who had been watching coldly, finally couldn’t stay quiet: "Are you really going to force him to his death? In the first place, Natalie was meant to marry your uncle."

Isaac gritted his teeth, but still didn’t relent.

Seeing this, Old Mr. Grant shoved him away hard.

He turned his wheelchair to face Philip, who had been silent the whole time sitting on the sofa.

"Philip, what do you think? Today, I don’t want anything else, only justice!"

Philip glanced at Isaac, then stood and walked over to Old Mr. Grant.

"Al, I’m old too, and I can’t control these youngsters anymore. Isaac is stubborn—the more you say no, the more he’ll do it. I can’t do anything with him either."

Old Mr. Grant had hoped Philip, as Isaac’s grandfather, would pressure him, force him to divorce Natalie.

But seeing Philip’s attitude now, it was as good as openly supporting Isaac and Natalie together.

Of course.

Natalie is now the Beckett Group’s heir; the Vaughn family already has her in their grasp, how could they possibly let her go?

Old Mr. Grant’s blood pressure spiked, his vision went black, and he suddenly pitched forward.

——

Old Mr. Grant collapsed from the shock.

When he came to, he refused to see Vanessa or Isaac.

Vanessa broke down in tears in Ansel’s arms.

Isaac could only instruct the caregiver to look after his grandfather well.

He couldn’t stay long in Janton; he had to leave tonight.

He deliberately didn’t tell Natalie ahead of time, afraid she’d insist on seeing him off—afraid she’d be upset.

He only called her once he got to the airport.

"I’ll come see you next week. That Tristan Jordan..."

"Hm? Assistant Jordan? What about him?"

Isaac opened his mouth to speak but ultimately just muttered that he didn’t like him.

Natalie hung up, but barely two seconds later, her phone rang again.

She thought it was Isaac calling back with more to say, but when she checked, it was an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

On the other end, only the sound of breathing—no voice.

Natalie frowned, guessing it was a wrong number.

She was just about to hang up when a hoarse woman’s voice suddenly hissed:

"You’ve been lied to! Lied to! There’s something fishy about his death!"