He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 98: Mr. Grant, Will You Let Go?

"Why did you meet with him?" His eyes were dark, his gaze fixed on her.

Wanda Lynch swallowed hard.

Her heart hammered in her chest. "It’s just... when Yulia White was declared brain-dead, he came to me. He wanted me to use her organs and discussed a price."

Theodore Grant’s gaze hardened slightly. "And then?"

"And then... I refused." Wanda Lynch suddenly dropped to her knees in front of Theodore Grant, clinging to his legs as she began to sob. "Theodore, no matter what anyone says, Yulia White is my mother! Even though she’s brain-dead, I don’t think she’s truly gone. How could I ever use her organs? Besides, you’re capable of finding a suitable donor for me. I didn’t need to do that. Don’t you agree?"

The man lowered his gaze, silently watching her tear-reddened eyes.

Her explanation seemed sincere. Every word was woven into a story that was logical and airtight.

’But why can’t I bring myself to trust her completely?’

"Wanda Lynch," he began slowly, his voice deep and serious, "I hope you remember not to try and deceive me. You should be well aware that the consequences of lying to me are more than you can handle."

Wanda Lynch nodded faintly, pressing her face against his knee as if seeking comfort and protection.

Her eyes, shimmering with tears, were filled with endless grievance and sincerity.

"Theodore, you know," she choked out, "I could lie to anyone else, but never to you. You’re the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt."

His heart stirred for a moment, but a wave of complex emotions quickly washed it away.

"Why did you send that text to lure Natalie Morgan and Felix Finch to the hotel so reporters could catch them?" He lifted her chin, his gaze searching. "What was your motive? Tell me."

Wanda Lynch’s eyes flickered.

’How did Theodore Grant find out the truth so quickly?’

She took a deep breath, gently wiping away a tear. A bitter smile touched her lips. "What other reason could there be?"

"It’s only because I’m so hopelessly in love with you. I couldn’t stand the ambiguous relationship between Natalie Morgan and Dr. Finch, so I decided to teach them a lesson on your behalf. I just wanted to vent your frustration for you."

Her low voice carried a tragic note, yet it also revealed an indescribable obsession and a deep, abiding love.

Theodore Grant leaned back against the sofa, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him. He pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and lit it, taking a long drag. "Don’t do such foolish things again."

"I won’t." She gently pressed her face against his leg, like a fragile, dependent fledgling. "Theodore, when can we finally be together for real? My body is recovering, and I truly want to have children with you."

’Have children?’

’He’d never really thought about it.’

To be precise, he had never imagined that kind of future with Wanda Lynch.

After two agitated drags on his cigarette, he stood up. "Get some rest. I’m leaving."

"You’re not staying?" She hurriedly grabbed his hand, her voice pleading. "Please stay. Stay with me, okay?"

"I have things to do at the office."

Without further explanation, he stood up and left.

After Theodore Grant left, Wanda Lynch grabbed her phone and called a mysterious contact. "I want both of them taken care of."

...

Theodore Grant drove along Riverden Avenue for nearly an hour.

He turned directly into the Grant Group’s hospital.

Whether it was guilt or pity, a voice had been urging him to come here throughout the entire hour he’d spent driving around to clear his head.

The hospital was as bright as day.

Natalie Morgan was in the most exclusive VIP suite in the entire hospital.

The main lights in the suite were off. Only a few delicate nightlights remained on, casting a soft, warm glow that added a sense of peace and serenity to the quiet space.

He quietly pushed the door open...

Natalie Morgan was asleep.

On the nightstand sat the gifts he’d had Weller Kendall deliver earlier that day.

An exquisite jewelry box sat there, unopened.

The black card was placed neatly on top of the box. For some reason, he felt a sting of rejection.

He lifted his gaze to the woman on the bed.

In the glow of the nightlight, he could clearly see the scars on her wrist.

The wounds had mostly healed, but the marks that remained were still jarring, branded deeply into her skin.

His chilled fingertips gently brushed against the marks...

The moment Natalie Morgan’s eyes flew open, she saw Theodore Grant’s handsome face looming over her.

She let out a startled scream. "AHH—"

"It’s me." His voice was surprisingly gentle, its low timbre sounding even more sensual in the dark. "Did I scare you?"

Natalie Morgan pulled her sleeve down, hiding the scars. "What do you want?"

"Work has been busy the last few days, so I haven’t had time to visit. I was just... worried about you."

’Worried about me?’

Natalie Morgan thought she must have misheard.

’Was he worried about my physical condition, or was he worried I’d fall back into despair and go down that path of no return, bringing shame to the Grant Family?’

"I don’t need anyone’s concern." Her voice was as cold and brittle as winter ice.

He fell silent for a moment. "Last time... I was a bit impulsive."

His voice carried a nearly imperceptible hint of apology.

’He wanted to say he was sorry, but the words wouldn’t come out.’ "I really... shouldn’t have been so awful to you."

Natalie Morgan couldn’t figure him out.

’How could she believe a single word from someone so untrustworthy?’

’He was paranoid by nature—impulsive and hot-headed.’

’He could apologize one second and try to snap her neck the next.’

Natalie Morgan said nothing.

Theodore Grant remained seated on the edge of her bed, gazing at her intently. She turned her head, fixing her eyes elsewhere, wanting nothing to do with him.

"Don’t you like any of these gifts?" he asked, breaking the silence. ’He didn’t understand women’s trinkets, so he’d just told Weller Kendall to buy the expensive ones.’

Natalie Morgan glanced at the gifts, her voice cold and distant. "Mr. Grant, you should take these to Wanda Lynch. I don’t like them, and I don’t deserve them."

Theodore Grant’s brow furrowed. As he stared into her cold eyes, an unfamiliar emotion stirred within him. "You’re Mrs. Grant. Why wouldn’t you deserve them?"

Natalie Morgan let out a bitter laugh.

’Mrs. Grant?’

The title meant nothing to her anymore.

"Then let me ask you, Mr. Grant, when can I stop being Mrs. Grant?" She looked him straight in the eye, her lips trembling slightly.

"You’re that desperate to divorce me?" His gaze was dark and intense as he stared back at her. ’He hadn’t come here tonight to discuss this.’ "Do you really think a divorce will make you free? You’re so naive. Your freedom has nothing to do with our marriage. It depends entirely on whether or not I let you go."

"So, Mr. Grant... will you let me go?"