He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 79: Spiked with a Love Potion

"Scared, Mrs. Grant?" His collar was slightly open, revealing his delicate collarbones and releasing a faint, masculine scent. He braced his hands on either side of her. "It’s simple if you want me to let you go."

Her eyelashes fluttered, but she struggled to remain composed. The panic in her eyes, however, was impossible to hide.

A smug smile touched the corner of his lips as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Weller Kendall’s number.

Before long, Weller Kendall hurried into the hospital room, carrying a box packed with jars of yellow peach preserves.

"Don’t you like these?" He glanced at the jars in the box before ordering Weller Kendall, "Since Mrs. Grant loves them so much, open every last one. Let her eat until she’s had her fill."

Weller Kendall looked shocked and hesitated for a moment.

Then, he deftly began opening the jars.

The sweet fragrance of peaches slowly filled the hospital room.

Natalie Morgan’s brow tightened.

She had just clawed her way back from death’s door, filled with the weary relief of a survivor.

’Eat thirty jars of yellow peach preserves?’

’Is he trying to send me right back to the grave?’

"Theodore Grant, are you insane?" Natalie Morgan was filled with incredulity and rage.

Her voice was tinged with despair.

Beneath the anger and desperation in her eyes lay a profound disappointment in this man.

"I thought you liked these. What’s the matter? Your husband is letting you eat your fill, and now you don’t want to?" He leaned forward, his body nearly eclipsing the light above her. His voice dripped with mockery. "Is it because they weren’t a gift from Byron Quincy? Is that why you won’t eat them?"

Natalie Morgan replied, her face devoid of expression, "I’m not eating them."

He sneered, a flicker of cold contempt in his eyes.

He raised his hand and violently threw the jar of preserves from Byron Quincy into the trash can.

The jar landed with a dull thud.

Theodore Grant gave a detached command. "Weller Kendall, stay here and watch her. You’re not leaving until she’s finished them all."

"I think those preserves have some kind of love potion in them."

His voice, along with the sound of the closing door, slowly faded into the air.

Natalie Morgan stared at the thirty jars of yellow peach preserves, her expression vacant.

One by one, Weller Kendall gathered the jars and emptied their contents into the trash.

"Mr. Grant is just letting off steam. You don’t need to get angry with him." Weller Kendall cleaned up the mess and opened the window to air out the room. "You should get some rest. I’ll head back now."

Natalie Morgan simply nodded.

She said nothing more.

Theodore Grant sat in his car, resting with his eyes closed.

Weller Kendall came out of the hospital, opened the car door, and slid inside.

Over the years, he had become the only person who could speak so frankly with Theodore Grant. "Mr. Grant, you’re about to divorce your wife. Why are you still doing all this?"

Theodore Grant pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression weary. A complex emotion flickered in his eyes.

He turned to Weller Kendall, his voice laced with hesitation and confusion. "Weller, I... I suddenly don’t want to go through with the divorce."

Weller Kendall’s heart skipped a beat.

He looked at the man who was normally so calm and self-possessed, but now his face held an inexplicable trace of vulnerability and confusion.

"Mr. Grant, why the sudden..." Weller Kendall didn’t know what to make of this sudden change of heart.

Theodore Grant didn’t answer. He simply gestured with his hand. "Let’s go. We’re going riding."

Weller Kendall nodded. "Yes, sir."

The sky was a vast, washed-out blue, with a few clouds like tufts of wool drifting by.

Sunlight washed over the two men, glinting like flecks of gold.

Spurring horses, cracking whips, shouting into the wind.

Theodore Grant galloped across the field, as if trying to vent the pent-up frustration in his heart.

"Assistant Kendall."

Weller Kendall turned to see who had called him. "Supervisor Lynch? What are you doing here?"

"I heard from Secretary Bell that you were out riding, so I came to take a look." Wanda Lynch was in high spirits, her face radiant. "Theodore looks so handsome on a horse."

"When Mr. Grant is in a bad mood, he likes to come to the stables for a ride."

’A bad mood?’

’It just means he hasn’t accepted the divorce yet.’

’I can understand that.’

’After all, Natalie Morgan was his bedwarmer for over two years. It’s only natural for a man to feel a little unsettled by the change.’

’But it doesn’t matter.’

’Once I marry Theodore, he’ll forget all about Natalie Morgan.’

Theodore Grant was riding at a high speed.

As he approached, the horse was suddenly spooked for some reason. It reared up, its hooves nearly striking Wanda Lynch.

Wanda Lynch scrambled back in fright, dropping her cane.

Fortunately, Weller Kendall caught her just in time.

Theodore Grant didn’t dismount, but continued to gallop around the field.

"Supervisor Lynch, it’s a bit dangerous here. Perhaps you should head back first." Weller Kendall didn’t want to be rude and tell her to leave, but he couldn’t figure out why she was here. "If you have work-related matters, we can discuss them back at the office."

"Alright, then. I won’t disturb Mr. Grant." Wanda Lynch retrieved her cane. "Assistant Kendall, there is one thing you can tell Mr. Grant for me. Regarding the... rape by Thomas Morgan. I’ve already filed a police report, and I’ve submitted the evidence to them as well."

Weller Kendall’s brow furrowed.

Back then, Wanda Lynch had claimed that Thomas Morgan raped her.

She had given Theodore Grant a pair of underwear allegedly stained with Thomas Morgan’s semen, crying her heart out.

Theodore Grant had offered to report it to the police for her, but she had refused.

She said she was afraid of ruining her reputation. He clearly remembered that Wanda Lynch had even pleaded for mercy on Thomas Morgan’s behalf back then.

Later, to punish Thomas Morgan, Theodore Grant had him committed to Unity Hospital.

They had agreed to let the matter go, and Thomas had already been released from Unity Hospital.

For Wanda Lynch to suddenly bring it up again...

"I understand. I’ll tell Mr. Grant."

Wanda Lynch glanced at the distant figure on horseback. "Then I’ll be on my way."

Not long after Wanda Lynch left, Theodore also dismounted.

Weller Kendall handed him a towel and took the opportunity to speak. "Mr. Grant, about Thomas Morgan allegedly raping Wanda Lynch..."

"What about it?"

"A moment ago, Wanda Lynch said she has prepared evidence and already filed a police report."

Theodore Grant paused, slightly taken aback.

Then he tossed the towel back to Weller Kendall.

"If she wants to file a report, let her. She doesn’t need to tell me."

"But she already promised to drop the matter, and you promised Mrs. Grant you would let Thomas Morgan go. This sudden reversal is..."

The light in Theodore Grant’s eyes dimmed.

...

「A few hours later.」

Lying in her hospital bed, Natalie Morgan saw photos of Theodore Grant and Wanda Lynch splashed across the top headlines on her phone.

At the stables.

He was there, and so was she.

She couldn’t say she was particularly angry.

She’d seen news like this so many times that it barely caused a ripple in her emotions.

Her phone vibrated.

It was an announcement on the company intranet for the new season’s flower-themed jewelry line.

She stared at the familiar designs.

’My eyes must be playing tricks on me.’

’No. They’re not.’

Those were her blueprints, but the designer’s name was listed as Wanda Lynch.

’Does this mean that Wanda Lynch used my designs to swindle the company out of that one-hundred-thousand reward?’

’Does Theodore Grant know about this?’

’Or has he known all along and just allowed it to happen?’

BING. Another notification popped up on her phone.

It was from the company forum.

A post with the headline, `[Bombshell! Natalie Morgan’s Brother Is a Rapist!]`, was staring her in the face.

Still reeling from her earlier anger, she felt as if an invisible hand had clamped around her throat, squeezing until she could barely breathe.

Her fingertips trembled as she opened the post...

It described in lurid detail the humiliation and pain the "victim" had suffered. At the end was a photo of the official receipt for the police report.

Theodore Grant had promised her he would let Thomas Morgan go.

’He already tortured Thomas into madness. Why would he go back on his word, file a police report, and have him thrown in jail?’