Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile!-Chapter 104: Why Did You Leave Without Saying Goodbye Back Then

Chapter 104: Chapter 104: Why Did You Leave Without Saying Goodbye Back Then

"Bang!" The gavel fell.

Crisp and powerful.

It struck Vera Sheridan’s heart, shattering the marriage veiled in a perfect illusion but filled with deceit and poison within.

Maeve Holloway and Owen Sheridan in the gallery stood up excitedly, applauding her.

Vera listened to the cheers, blinking away the moisture at the corners of her eyes with a smile, giving them a knowing smile.

Her gaze inadvertently met a harsh, disdainful look from the gallery—it was her mother-in-law, Jean Crowe.

Vera acted as if she hadn’t seen it, quickly shifted her gaze, and looked towards Noah Grant beside her.

Jean Crowe’s lips twitched slightly, rolling her eyes in Vera’s direction, grabbing her Hermès bag from the seat next to her, and stood up abruptly.

The next moment, she stopped in her tracks, her face instantly darkening—she saw Noah Grant gently pulling out a chair for Vera, carefully escorting her out of the plaintiff’s seat.

She let out a heavy cold snort, lifted her chin higher, and walked towards the exit in high heels without sparing a glance, her straight back exuding an air of forced arrogance.

Jean Crowe couldn’t understand how in the world there could be another young talent like her son, bowing down to a Cinderella like Vera.

And this young talent was even more outstanding and noble than her son, Noah Grant! 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

...

The solemn courthouse doors slowly opened, the afternoon sun carrying an almost scorching temperature.

Vera didn’t open her parasol, stepping forward to stand in the sunlight, instinctively closing her eyes, letting the sun shine upon her, the air seemingly filled with the scent of freedom.

Just then, a clean, crisp scent of ebony and myrrh wafted into her nostrils, adding a mature masculine air to the atmosphere.

Vera slowly turned her head, Noah Grant was standing beside her.

His tall figure cast a clear outline in the sunlight.

Sunlight graced his broad shoulders and chiseled profile, wrapping him in a warm halo.

The man held a pristine white cigarette between his fingers, lightly tapping it against his pant seam with a deep, steady voice, "The verdict will be out in ten days at the earliest."

When the verdict officially arrives, her marriage with Ian Kane will truly end.

But it’s already a foregone conclusion.

Their eyes met.

Tears of liberation still lingered in Vera’s eyes.

She actively reached out her hand, her voice slightly choked with emotion, but crystal clear: "Senior, thank you."

If not for him, no lawyer in the country would dare take Ian Kane’s divorce case.

It wouldn’t have been declared this quickly either.

Noah Grant locked his gaze on her, his Adam’s apple moving slightly, firmly holding her outstretched hand.

His palm was wide and warm, his fingertips calloused but gripping with an appropriate force, giving an assuring warmth.

At this moment, across the street from the courthouse, a sleek black sedan quietly parked under the shade, the darkened windows blocking out the noise and light from the outside world.

Inside, Ian Kane leaned back in the rear seat, his dark eyes fixed intently on Noah and Vera at the courthouse entrance, finally halting on their tightly clasped hands.

The sight stung his eyes painfully, seemingly pulling at the unhealed wound in his abdomen, inducing a throbbing pain along with his heart’s wrenching.

In the seat next to him, Jasper Crowe tapped his fingers rhythmically against his knee, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, breaking the silence in the car.

"Really letting go? Quite surprising." He turned his head slightly, glancing at Ian’s grim profile, "But, wise. It’s not worth it to fall out with Noah Grant over a woman who’s already changed her mind."

Jasper Crowe was very surprised that Ian Kane didn’t present those photos in court after seeing them.

He speculated that Ian had chosen to endure, weighing the pros and cons.

Seeing Ian remain silent, Jasper Crowe reassured him, "Kane, power is the most tangible. With your conditions, what kind of woman can’t you have?"

Upon hearing this, Ian Kane let out a faint, cold snort from his nose.

Still silent.

...

In a private dining room at a restaurant, the warm yellow lights created a cozy and relaxed atmosphere.

The air was filled with the aroma of food, rich alcohol, and a pure joy of escaping from a calamity.

Vera sat at the main seat, a few glasses of red wine down, the alcohol making her dark eyes even more lustrous and captivating, her fair cheeks were tinged with a moving blush, stunningly beautiful under the soft lights.

Maeve Holloway was the atmosphere maker, throwing out a trending joke that made Vera giggle incessantly, her body slightly leaning forward, the elegant swan-like neck tracing a glistening arc under the light.

Noah Grant sat by her side, slightly inclined, listening to Owen Sheridan talking about setting up an architectural design studio.

He sat in a relaxed yet steady manner.

From beneath the cuff of his dark suit, a clean white shirt peeked out, the platinum cufflinks glittering with a metallic sheen.

His long fingers unconsciously caressed the edge of a whiskey tumbler.

Surrounded by an undeniable aura of composure fitting for someone in a position of power.

When the server came to refill the water, their gaze instinctively fell on him first, their eyes filled with deference, needing only a slight nod from him to understand and retreat.

"Maeve! I’ve... I’ve finished it all!" Vera, somewhat tipsy, sweet and slurred voiced.

She raised her now empty glass, shaking it towards Maeve’s direction, her eyes dreamy, her smile bright enough to dazzle.

Maeve hadn’t seen her this happy in a long, long time, "Drink!"

At that moment, Noah Grant reached out his long arm, gently taking the empty glass from Vera’s hand, and picked up a glass pitcher beside him, slowly pouring her a glass of warm honey water, and pushed it in front of her.

"Vera, you’ve had too much to drink, have some honey water."

Vera felt a warmth in her heart, "Thank you, senior..."

Noah Grant’s gaze lingered on her drunken face for a moment, the dark color in his eyes seemingly deepening, his Adam’s apple rolling slightly.

He nodded and said nothing, continuing his previous conversation with Owen.

...

At the end of the gathering, Vera was already unsteady on her feet.

...

The car smoothly returned to the Grant Family Estate.

Night had fallen, the estate was silent, Old Madam Grant and the servants were already asleep, with only a few dim street lamps casting warm light in the courtyard.

Noah Grant got out of the car, walking around to the other side to open the door for Vera.

As Vera got out, she stumbled and almost fell.

Seeing this, Noah Grant immediately stepped forward, his solid arm steadily supporting her slender waist.

"Careful," his voice was low, with a slight tension.

Vera’s entire body softly fell into his embrace, her forehead resting on his broad shoulder.

A few strands of her long black hair were scattered, brushing against the exposed skin under the slightly open collar of his shirt.

The subtle scent of alcohol and her familiar fragrance instantly surrounded him.

The warm soft body in his embrace leaned on him without any defenses.

Noah Grant’s body tensed, his breathing momentarily stopped.

The night breeze rustled through the courtyard, the leaves rustling, but it couldn’t overshadow the thunderous beating of his heart in his chest.

He suppressed the surging emotions, clearing his tightening throat, his voice slightly hoarse, "Can you walk?"

In her muddled consciousness, Vera lifted her flushed face, her foggy eyes struggling to focus on the defined jawline of his profile.

"Senior..." her voice was slurred and nasal, "Back then... you left the country without a word..."

"Didn’t even... even say goodbye... to me..." she muttered, her words dragging on, "Was it because... of my mom?"

The alcohol tore down all defenses, prying open the deeply buried question in her heart.

Noah Grant froze, meeting her melancholic eyes, clouded with grievance.

He too was puzzled; before he left the country, she had clearly rejected his confession... so why the tone of blame?