He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 66: When Did You Become So Unhinged?

Wanda Lynch gently tugged on Theodore Grant’s cuff, coaxing, "Theodore, don’t argue with your sister. It’s the day of Grandfather’s burial; let’s not make things unpleasant."

"Sis, Theodore’s just in a bad mood. Please don’t hold it against him." She turned to look at Claire Grant with an ingratiating smile.

"Who’s your sister? This is a conversation between Grant siblings. When did an outsider like you get the right to interrupt?"

Claire Grant was seething with rage.

’Who the hell does she think she is, daring to show up at the Grant patriarch’s funeral?’

Theodore Grant suppressed the anger flaring in his chest. "Why are you shouting at her?"

"Should she even be here? Is she your wife? Theodore Grant, don’t forget, you’re someone else’s husband—you’re married! The thing that angered Grandfather most in his life was Dad juggling mistresses. It’s disappointing enough that you’re following Dad’s old path, but you actually brought this homewrecker to see Grandfather to his final rest? Are you trying to anger him back to life? What were you thinking?"

Claire Grant’s fingertip trembled as she pointed at Wanda Lynch, her eyes spitting fire. "You’ve got some nerve. The Grant Family is holding a funeral. What are you doing here? You shameless thing, get out of my sight, now!"

Wanda Lynch was so thoroughly berated that she didn’t dare talk back.

Her face flushed red. She blinked a few times, her eyes welling up as if she were about to cry. "I just wanted to see Grandfather off. I didn’t mean anything by it."

"Plenty of dignitaries wanted to see Grandfather off. Who do you think you are?" Claire Grant’s anger flared as she looked at Wanda Lynch’s pitiful, manipulative act. "Wanda Lynch, I won’t argue with you at Grandfather’s funeral. Now, disappear from my sight."

Big tears started rolling down Wanda Lynch’s cheeks.

Theodore Grant’s lips thinned. He looked at Wanda Lynch and said gently, "Go wait for me in the car."

"Okay."

Wanda Lynch’s act—as if she’d been gravely wronged—was enough to make Claire Grant sick to her stomach.

’Do all men fall for this crap?’

’Her father was like this, and now her brother too? Have all the Grant men lost their minds?’

"How did you fall for this manipulative bitch? How is she even a fraction as good as Natalie? You’re blind—blind in your eyes and in your heart. Completely blind."

Having said her piece, Claire Grant didn’t give Theodore Grant a chance to retort before moving to Helena Sullivan’s side.

"Mom, the rain’s getting heavier. It looks like *they* have other business to attend to. Let’s head back. Watch your step."

"Okay."

The rain fell harder and harder.

Back at the old family residence, Natalie Morgan was still kneeling before the mourning hall.

A house servant, unable to bear the sight any longer, went over to her with an umbrella.

"Young Madam, the rain is so heavy and cold. You can’t keep kneeling here like this, you’ll get sick. Besides, no one’s home right now. Why don’t you go inside and rest for a while?"

"There’s no need, Sutton. I have to kneel for the full three hours."

Her face was deathly pale, completely drained of color, and her body was swaying, on the verge of collapse.

"The Young Master probably won’t be back today. He won’t know how long you’ve knelt anyway. If he asks, I’ll just tell him you finished your time."

The servant moved to help her up.

But she refused.

’She didn’t want Theodore Grant to take his anger out on someone else because of her.’

"Sutton, please, go back to your work."

The servant shook her head and walked away.

The sound of a car pulling up came from the gate.

Claire Grant helped Helena Sullivan into the old residence.

"Mom, let’s go to the mourning hall and offer some incense for Grandfather."

"Yes, we should."

The mother-daughter pair walked slowly toward the courtyard where the mourning hall was located.

Before they even took a step inside, they saw Natalie Morgan, kneeling by the entrance and soaked to the bone.

’What is going on?’

’In this heavy rain, in this cold... what is she trying to do?’

"Natalie?"

The woman’s body slowly went limp, and she collapsed in the torrential downpour.

"Natalie..."

Claire Grant lifted her from the ground and touched her forehead. "She’s burning up! Someone, help! Get her inside, quickly!"

"Hurry up and carry the Young Madam inside! What happened? Why was she out in the rain?" Helena Sullivan demanded, looking out anxiously. "All of you servants, how could you let her torture herself like this?"

The servants scrambled to carry Natalie Morgan into the house.

Helena Sullivan immediately started giving orders. "Quick, go get Dr. Sutton! And boil several pots of ginger soup. Pour it into the bathtub, make it hot. We’ll have the Young Madam soak in it."

"Yes, Madam."

Natalie Morgan was very weak, but fortunately, she groggily regained consciousness.

Soaking in the ginger-infused water, her body slowly started to warm up.

Claire Grant stayed by her side, afraid she might slip under in her weakened state.

"Why were you kneeling out there in the rain? Who made you do it? Was it Dad, or was it Theodore?"

Natalie had little strength left. "It was Theodore Grant," she said weakly. "He said I had to atone for my sins."

"Atone for what? He’s blaming you for Grandfather’s death?" This was ridiculous. "What does Grandfather’s death have to do with you? Natalie, you’re far too lenient with him. You can’t keep letting him bully you like this."

Natalie gave a bitter smile.

’She knew she shouldn’t let it be like this.’

’But sometimes, she truly couldn’t fight back.’

"Claire." A knock came at the bathroom door. It was Helena Sullivan’s voice. "I made some ginger tea for Natalie. Take it in for her."

"Coming, Mom."

Claire Grant opened the bathroom door and took the ginger tea. "Mom, don’t worry."

"That girl just puts up with too much," Helena Sullivan said, shaking her head with a pained expression.

The ginger tea was hot and soothing.

It warmed her stomach and her body.

Natalie felt much better.

After her bath, the woman was given an injection by the doctor and fell into a deep, groggy sleep.

Claire Grant gently closed the door and went to Helena Sullivan’s room.

The woman, who had been chanting sutras, saw her daughter enter and set down her Buddha Beads.

"She’s asleep?"

"Yes."

Claire Grant had been abroad for many years and only returned occasionally, so she didn’t know much about the situation between Theodore Grant and Natalie Morgan.

"Mom, I know Theodore has disliked Natalie ever since they got married. And now he’s always bringing that Wanda Lynch around. Why don’t they just get a divorce?"

Helena Sullivan didn’t know the reason either.

She, for one, would support Natalie if she chose to divorce.

"That brother of yours never talks to me. I’m not clear on their situation, and I have no idea what he’s thinking." She only knew that the light had gone out in Natalie’s eyes. "If they could get a divorce, I would support it."

"They haven’t had a child in two years. I’m guessing Theodore doesn’t want one."

"The way those two are, it’s better if they don’t have children. A child would just become a burden and only bring harm to the woman."

’Wasn’t she a victim herself?’

’If she could do it all over again, she would never have given birth to her son and daughter.’

’No, she would never have married Lucas Grant.’

The mother and daughter had only been talking for a few moments.

Theodore Grant returned.

He took large strides, heading straight for the mourning hall.

When he didn’t see Natalie there, his face darkened.

Claire Grant watched him, her brow furrowed. "What’s wrong? Upset that she’s not out there kneeling anymore?"

"Where is she?" His voice was calm, but it held a turbulent undercurrent.

She raised an eyebrow. "Asleep."

"Asleep?" He planted his hands on his hips, an invisible fury burning within him. "What right does she have to be asleep? Has Grandfather forgiven her?"

"Theodore Grant!" A burst of fury shot through Claire. "When did you become so unhinged? What exactly are you trying to do? Do you want her dead? What do you take her for? A puppy? A kitten? Or just some bug you can crush under your foot whenever you feel like it?"