He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 54: I’m Not the Apple of Your Eye

After that, Cyrus Sawyer brought out several more masterpieces by famous artists, one after another.

All of them quite old.

Honestly, Natalie Morgan had never seen such a dense collection of forgeries.

’Doesn’t a big-shot CEO like him own a single authentic piece?’

’Or maybe, he just wants to sell Theodore Grant a fake.’

"Your collection is quite impressive, Mr. Sawyer. They would certainly make for excellent decorative pieces to hang at home," Natalie Morgan said, offering him a way to save face.

Cyrus Sawyer couldn’t help but let his gaze fall on Natalie Morgan’s face again. He paused for three or four seconds, then chuckled. "If you like them, Miss Morgan, I can give you a few."

"Thank you, Mr. Sawyer. I appreciate the thought."

Amidst the pleasantries, Theodore Grant understood.

He hadn’t cared whether the paintings Cyrus Sawyer was selling him were real or fake when he came here.

Business partnerships were always like this.

The hundred million he spent today could bring in billions later.

The artwork was merely a means of transaction.

What he hadn’t expected was that Natalie Morgan could actually tell the difference between a real and a fake.

"Mr. Grant, your little designer here is quite capable." Cyrus Sawyer was just about to try and poach her when Theodore Grant cut him off. "Don’t even think about it, Mr. Sawyer. She’s taken."

"Is that so?" Cyrus Sawyer smiled, his gaze still glued to Natalie Morgan. "What a shame."

When they left, Theodore Grant still spent twenty million, buying something to give Cyrus Sawyer face.

On the drive back.

His long, slender hand with its well-defined knuckles propped up his chin as he turned to look at her. "That Franklin Farrell painting, how did you know it was a forgery?"

"From the linework, the brushwork, the three-dimensional feel of the contours and shading—it wasn’t hard to tell. The paper was also artificially aged, and the seals were stamped messily. Among forgeries, it was a rather poor attempt."

This knowledge, etched into her memory, made her seem to glow with a faint light.

It was the first time he had ever listened so closely and earnestly to her analysis of a painting.

His expression softened. "It seems I didn’t know you well enough before."

She met his gaze, her face expressionless. "There’s no need for that."

’When they first married, she had tried desperately to understand him, to become part of his life. She had longed to be understood, to be seen, to be cherished.’

’But he had never given her the chance.’

’His mind was always on either the Grant Group or Wanda Lynch. For her, besides disgust, he mostly showed impatience.’

’The only thing he was ever serious about with her was revenge, wasn’t it?’

’So, she wouldn’t have any reaction, not even a flutter in her heart, to the tenderness he was now offering.’

’A dead heart is dead for good.’

She gazed blankly out the car window.

She was quiet, serene. The slight flutter of her long eyelashes was enough to make his Adam’s apple bob.

Suddenly, the car’s privacy partition rose.

He cupped the back of her head and moved in to kiss her.

She struggled to push him away, not saying a word, just glaring.

He suddenly laughed. "That look in your eyes isn’t very cute."

"I was never Mr. Grant’s sweetheart to begin with. Does it matter whether I’m cute or not?"

He shrugged slightly and sneered, "You’re right, it doesn’t matter."

A phone rang.

She glanced at Theodore Grant’s phone. Wanda Lynch’s name was flashing on the screen.

Natalie Morgan turned her head away.

"Hello?"

"Theodore, where are you?" the woman on the other end of the line suddenly burst into tears. "I’m so scared. The house is on fire, there’s so much smoke... My eyes, my eyes... I can’t see."

Theodore Grant’s expression changed instantly.

His previously relaxed body tensed as he sat up straight. "What’s happening?"

"I don’t know... COUGH, COUGH... Everything’s dark in front of me. Theodore, come quickly! Ah—!" From the other end of the line came the sound of someone tumbling down the stairs, followed by the woman’s piercing scream.

The privacy partition lowered, and he spoke urgently to the driver, "Turn around. Go to the Lynch Residence."

Just as the car turned around, Theodore Grant immediately shouted, "Stop! You, get out."

His gentle demeanor was gone, replaced by a sudden coldness in his eyes as he gave the order.

Natalie Morgan gave him a look, then pushed open the door and got out of the car.

’Just like always. One phone call from Wanda Lynch, and he would abandon her without a second thought.’

’When they were first married, she would have cried. She would have thrown a fit. She would have angrily demanded to know why he did this to her.’

Now.

She was used to it. It didn’t matter anymore.

Standing by the side of the road, she tried to hail a cab, but after a long wait, not a single car passed by.

A white BMW screeched to a halt beside her.

The window rolled down, revealing Sean Lane’s face.

"What a coincidence." He took off his sunglasses, grinning at her.

Natalie Morgan didn’t want to deal with him. She looked down at her phone, opening an app to call a car.

Sean Lane got out of the driver’s seat and, with his hands in his pockets, walked up to Natalie Morgan. "Hard to get a cab here? Don’t tell me Theodore Grant ditched you here again? Rushing off to see... Wanda Lynch, was it?"

"Sean Lane, you’d better stay away from me," she said with disgust.

Instead of getting angry, Sean Lane just laughed, seemingly in a good mood. "Meeting like this is fate. I’ll give you a ride."

"That won’t be necessary."

"Oh, come on. I wanted to talk to you... about how your father ended up in prison. How much did he suffer in there? Was it suicide, or was he murdered?" Sean Lane appeared casual, but his gaze was fixed intently on Natalie Morgan’s face. "I know a lot of inside details, you know."

Natalie Morgan’s eyes slowly narrowed.

She looked at the man before her, a man whose character was just as vile as Theodore Grant’s.

As if she could finally take no more, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face.

"Sean Lane, my brother is out now, and you’re still trying to use my father’s death? What do you want from me? Or... are you trying to use my hatred for Theodore Grant to achieve something?"

Five pink finger marks stood out on Sean Lane’s fair face.

He worked his jaw. After a brief moment of shock, a smile returned to his lips. "You think just because your brother’s been released, his life is free and clear? Wanda Lynch could accuse him of rape at any time, and Theodore Grant can still have Thomas Morgan killed just as easily."

"So?"

"So, the one who can help you is me." Sean Lane pointed to himself, the cynical smile vanishing from his face. "Natalie Morgan, we have a common enemy. If Theodore Grant really was the one who framed your father back then, don’t you want revenge?"

He walked toward her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don’t refuse me. I really want to help you."

"Don’t touch me." She pushed Sean Lane away as if she had touched something filthy. "I don’t believe you would help me, and I don’t need your help."

"Why don’t you believe me?"

Natalie Morgan’s expression was placid. She let out a small, knowing laugh. "Because when it comes to being despicable and shameless, you and Theodore Grant are evenly matched."

Sean Lane laughed again.

He turned and shook his head, then looked back at Natalie Morgan. "You’ll need to build your trust in me."

"I’m not interested."

Natalie Morgan started to walk away.

’She didn’t want to be around Sean Lane. He was like a Datura flower—gorgeous and vibrant, but capable of causing paralysis.’

’Danger is danger, whether to man or beast.’

"Hey, Natalie Morgan!" Sean Lane called out from behind her. "I really have proof that Theodore Grant framed your father. I can give it to you, free of charge. Do you want it?"

Natalie Morgan stopped in her tracks.

’She wanted it.’

’She wanted it desperately.’

’But could she trust him?’