He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 142: I’ve Had Many Men Besides You

"I’m about to head home. You should get off work soon too." Natalie Morgan offered a small smile.

"Alright."

Henry Hughes took the files and went back to work.

Bored, Natalie Morgan glanced outside at the road where the streetlights had already flickered on.

’Looks like it’s about to rain.’

She took an umbrella from her drawer, ready to head home.

The rain began to fall just as she stepped out of the office building.

Henry Hughes hurried to catch up with Natalie Morgan. "Manager Childs, it’s raining! How are you going to get home?"

"I’ll just grab a cab," she said.

"Wait here for a second." The young man dashed into the rain.

About five or six minutes later, a white Honda sedan pulled up. The window rolled down. "Manager Childs, hop in! I’ll give you a ride home."

"That’s alright, Hughes. I can just grab a cab."

"Just think of it as my taxi. Come on, get in," Henry Hughes insisted warmly. He pushed open the driver’s side door and came around to get her. "Manager Childs, just think of it as giving me a chance to make a good impression."

Natalie Morgan smiled. It would be rude to keep refusing. "Alright then, thank you."

Henry Hughes was quite the conversationalist.

He always had something to talk about.

He could jump from soccer leagues to the summer jobs he worked, and his stories sounded surprisingly motivational.

"You’re quite ambitious, buying a car right after graduation. I guess I underestimated you."

Henry Hughes flushed with embarrassment at the praise. "Manager Childs, it’s a used car. It only cost forty thousand yuan in total. I saved up some of it from part-time jobs in school, and my mom chipped in another ten thousand."

"That’s still very impressive."

The young man was practically bursting with joy from the compliment.

When they stopped at the Grant Residence, he was taken aback. Natalie lived in such an extravagant place. "Manager Childs, is this your house?"

"No, I’m just staying here temporarily." She pushed open the passenger door and opened her umbrella, not offering any further explanation. "Hughes, thanks for the ride home. You should get going. Drive safe."

"Alright, I’ll be on my way then, Manager Childs."

Natalie Morgan waved goodbye to him. As she turned, she nearly slammed into a wall of muscle...

She gave him a cool, dismissive glance before walking on under her umbrella.

The man tutted, then turned and strode after her. "Your tastes have changed?"

"What do you mean, my tastes have changed?" She stopped abruptly, glaring at the tall man. "I’m not interested in fighting with you."

"Trading an old man for a boy toy... isn’t that a change in tastes?" He looked down, eyeing her, his tone laced with mockery. "Or is it that our Manager Childs goes for all ages?"

She met Theodore Grant’s gaze without a shred of fear and replied coolly, "I go for all ages."

As if he hadn’t expected such a direct comeback, Theodore Grant was momentarily speechless, his anger deflating.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" He suddenly tossed his umbrella aside and ducked under hers, leaning in to bring his face close to hers. "If you piss me off to death, you’ll be a real widow."

She shot him a disdainful look, swept the umbrella away from over his head, and walked straight inside, leaving a single, airy comment floating behind her: "I’m already a widow."

The man snatched his umbrella back up from the ground and hurried after her.

’When has he ever been wronged like this?’

"Aren’t you afraid I’ll deal with that little punk?"

Natalie Morgan stopped dead in her tracks. Through the blurry curtain of rain, she stared at the man before her, a hint of shock piercing her cold expression. "I think you want to deal with *me*."

"Bringing a boy toy like that right to my doorstep, who are you trying to piss off?" The man’s brow was deeply furrowed. He grabbed her arm, his grip so tight it was as if he wanted to crush her heart right through the soft fabric. "Don’t you forget, in the eyes of the law, you are still my wife. Theodore Grant’s wife."

"His deceased wife," Natalie Morgan corrected him coldly, her eyes devoid of warmth.

"A deceased wife is still a wife!" A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through Theodore Grant’s voice. "As long as our marriage certificate exists, you will always be Mrs. Theodore Grant. You..."

’He was going to lose his mind.’

’The more he tried to suppress his anger, the more he felt like he was about to explode.’

’Jealousy.’

’That’s right. It was jealousy.’

’Jealousy was making him lose himself.’

Before he could finish, Natalie Morgan cut him off. "Theodore Grant, stop lying to yourself. We were over long ago. That marriage certificate is nothing but a worthless piece of paper."

The woman’s gaze swept over his face with indifference. She gently pulled her arm free and continued walking inside.

The man, standing in the rain, angrily kicked at a bluestone paver.

But his anger was replaced by a profound sense of helplessness.

"Sir, you’re soaked. Shall I draw a bath for you?" a servant asked nervously upon seeing Theodore Grant return, drenched from the rain.

His face grim, the man said nothing and stormed up the stairs.

Natalie Morgan completely ignored him.

If Theodore Grant threw another baseless tantrum at her, she would turn and walk away without a second thought.

"Go run my bath. I need to wash up." His face was grim, his tone more of a command than a request.

Natalie Morgan didn’t say a word to him, but she still got up and went into the bathroom.

She pressed the button to start the faucet, and warm water began to slowly fill the tub.

She carefully adjusted the temperature until it was just right.

The man walked in and began to unbutton his shirt.

Natalie Morgan turned to leave, but he blocked her path with his arm.

He was incredibly strong, and it felt as if he meant to trap her in the small space.

"We’ll bathe together."

"I’m on my period," she said, her expression blank.

"You can’t take a bath when you’re on your period?" He tossed his shirt aside. Bare-chested, he lifted her onto the bathroom counter, bracing his arms on either side of her. "Why do you always have to fight me? I know I was wrong about what I did. I was stabbed, I was hurt... what more do you want?"

"Theodore Grant, do you really not mind that I was with an old man? Do you really not mind raising another man’s child? Do you really not mind that I’ll never have your children? Or do you really not mind that I’ve been with many other men besides you?"

Natalie Morgan knew he minded.

She said whatever she knew would bother him the most.

Theodore Grant had a hair-trigger temper. For all she knew, he could snap her neck in the next second.

She didn’t care.

"Even if you don’t mind, I do," she said, her voice merciless and cold as ice.

"Do you think I believe that?" He didn’t get angry. Instead, his slender fingertips traced her delicate face, stroking it gently. "That you’ve been with many men? I can tell whether you have the scent of another man on you."

"So what if you can? Theodore Grant, don’t delude yourself. You hurt me so badly. I could never make the same mistake with you again."

’She could be his bedmate, his slave, his servant. She could even work for him, sacrifice herself for his business deals.’

’It would all be to repay her debt to him.’

’Once that debt was paid, she would leave.’

’She could never be tied to him for the rest of her life.’

"You chose to come back to my side, and that means we *are* going to make the same mistakes all over again." His long fingers gripped her delicate chin, his thin lips hovering over hers. "I gave you a chance. You’re the one who begged to walk right into the lion’s den."