He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 57: I Really, Really Like Her
"I’m not planning on getting out."
The light had vanished from her eyes.
She had resigned herself to her fate.
Nor did she believe Theodore Grant would show her any mercy and let her off the hook this one time.
"You’re not planning on getting out? Natalie Morgan, your brother has lost his mind, and your mother is still lying in a hospital bed. You don’t want to get out anymore? Who’s going to take care of them?"
Her body went rigid.
Then, she suddenly laughed.
"What right do you have to lecture me?" Her dark eyes stared at him coldly. "The only reason I’m in here is because of the trap you set, isn’t it?"
"You think I designed all of this to frame you?" His gaze, sharp as a blade, fell upon her face. "Natalie Morgan, who do you think you are? Do you think you’re worth all this trouble?"
"’Not worth it? Hah.’" ’A twisted person like him doesn’t care if it’s ’worth it’ or not. He only cares about getting his kicks.’ "Yes, how could I possibly be worth Mr. Grant going to such great lengths to deal with me? I’m less than an ant."
It wasn’t just her.
Her entire family was like that.
Completely vulnerable before Theodore Grant.
With her red-rimmed eyes and the corners of her lips lifted in a smile, she was like a dandelion seed head, shattered in the wind.
She didn’t care where she went after she died.
"Natalie Morgan, if you really didn’t do this, the police wouldn’t have wrongly accused you."
"I don’t care."
Things had already come to this.
Whether she was framed or not was no longer important. What mattered was whether the man standing before her would let her live or die.
"What do you care about?" His dark eyes narrowed, a thousand emotions swirling in their depths.
Natalie Morgan just gave the slightest of shakes with her head.
’There’s nothing left for me to care about.’
’I’m too weak. I can’t even protect myself, so how could I have the strength to protect my family?’
"Theodore Grant, can you please spare my family? They’re already so pitiful. If I can’t get out to take care of them, they’ll be in an even more pitiful state. I’m begging you, please be merciful, can you?"
Her voice trembled violently.
Though her voice was as light as a feather,
it scraped across the tip of his heart, leaving it raw and bleeding.
He didn’t dare meet her gaze any longer and turned away. "Don’t you understand the saying ’it’s better to rely on yourself than to beg others’?"
"I do."
’She had begged the wrong person.’
Years ago, she had begged Theodore Grant to save her father.
And what was the result? Her father died in prison.
She slapped herself across the face. ’How could I never learn my lesson?’
The man spun back around. Seeing the red mark of her fingers on her face, his pupils constricted. "Natalie Morgan, do you think this will make me go soft? There are some prices that your Morgan Family must pay. That includes you."
"What right do you have to say that?" She raised her head defiantly, her eyes bloodshot and her fists clenched tight. "Theodore Grant, you’re the one who should be dead! You killed my father! You want to take my mother’s organs to save that Wanda Lynch! You drove the perfectly fine Thomas Morgan insane! You sent me to prison! You are the one who deserves to die most!"
Her face was twisted with despair and hatred.
Her fingernails dug so deep into her palms that even if it hurt, she felt nothing.
Tears streamed down her face.
They stared at each other like this for a good ten seconds.
In the end, the man turned his face away again. "I wasn’t the one who arranged for your arrest."
’He didn’t know if he was trying to explain himself or what.’
He knew Natalie Morgan wouldn’t believe him.
Just as he didn’t believe that Natalie Morgan hadn’t hired someone to commit arson.
There had never been any trust between them.
Neither of them could be bothered.
Time was up.
A police officer came in and led Natalie Morgan away.
Watching her frail figure retreat, his gaze went vacant, and he couldn’t pull himself back to reality for a long time.
After walking out of the police station, he sat in his car and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.
It wasn’t until the sunset painted the sky and autumn leaves rustled down that he retracted his lost gaze, slammed on the accelerator, and drove off.
「At the Grant Residence.」
The second-floor bedroom was dark.
Theodore Grant sat in the darkness, the only light a red glow flickering at his fingertips.
His phone rang.
It was a call from the hospital.
He didn’t pick up the first time.
After it had rung two or three more times, he finally extinguished the cigarette in his hand and answered without looking at the screen. "Hello?"
"Mr. Grant, Miss Lynch is emotionally unstable. You should come over and check on her," came the nurse’s anxious voice from the other end.
"If she’s unstable, give her a sedative. What am I, a needle or a dose of medicine?"
With that, he hung up the phone.
He got up and went downstairs.
He found a bottle of red wine and began drinking, one glass after another.
Mrs. Wallace couldn’t bear to watch any longer and came over to persuade him. "Sir, please stop drinking. It’s bad for your health."
"None of your business." He was already drunk, stumbling and collapsing into the sofa. "This house... it’s so lifeless. It’d be better if everyone in it were dead."
"Sir, are you in a bad mood? Why don’t I help you upstairs to rest?"
Just as the housekeeper reached out to support him,
he shoved her away. "Don’t touch me."
"Sir..."
"You’re just as annoying as Natalie Morgan. Get the hell away from me."
He smashed the wine bottle and glass on the floor.
Mrs. Wallace quickly fetched a broom and dustpan to clean up. "Sir, you’re drunk. You should get some rest."
"Mrs. Wallace, tell me..." He let out a drunken hiccup and closed his eyes. "...do you think Wanda Lynch is a better fit to be Mrs. Grant than Natalie Morgan?"
The housekeeper couldn’t answer.
’If Natalie Morgan and Theodore Grant divorced and he brought Wanda Lynch into this house,’
’she would resign and leave no matter what.’
"Sir, why are you suddenly asking about this?"
"The first time I saw Wanda... it was before their college entrance exams. She was wearing a white sun jacket and a white baseball cap, with her hair in a high ponytail. She was riding a mountain bike... her legs were so long... She was glowing in the sunlight, so beautiful. I really liked her. I liked her so, so much."
’In the housekeeper’s memory, Wanda Lynch only ever slathered on thick sunscreen and was always chauffeured everywhere.’
’Riding a mountain bike?’
’She seemed to recall that Natalie Morgan had one. Right after they got married, she had a habit of riding her bike in the mornings and evenings. But then one tragedy after another struck her family, and the bike was thrown into a storage room.’
’Theodore Grant rarely came home back then. He had probably never even seen that mountain bike.’
"Sir, you’re drunk."
"Mrs. Wallace, tell me, isn’t Wanda the most suitable person to be Mrs. Grant?"
"Sir, do you really like Miss Lynch that much?"
’But she clearly wasn’t as good a person as Natalie Morgan, nor was she as beautiful.’
’She was treacherous, cruel to the staff, and loved to put on an act in front of Theodore Grant.’
’She was nowhere near as wonderful as he made her out to be.’
She didn’t get a response.
When the housekeeper looked back, she saw that Theodore Grant had already fallen asleep.
The housekeeper sighed softly and murmured to herself, "Sir, can you really not see how good Mrs. Grant is? If she isn’t fit to be Mrs. Grant, then Wanda Lynch is even less worthy. I really wish you’d install some security cameras in the house one day. Then you’d see Wanda Lynch’s true colors."
The housekeeper shook her head.
After cleaning up the mess, she draped a blanket over Theodore Grant and quietly withdrew.
「Early the next morning.」
Felix Finch came to see Natalie Morgan.
She looked haggard.
"Are you okay?"
"I’m fine," she said faintly.
Felix Finch looked at the woman before him with a complicated expression. "What on earth happened? This is so strange. You were just suddenly arrested."
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