Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile!-Chapter 114: Crazy for Her!

Their eyes met.

Passions entwined, ablaze.

Breaths collided, crackling with sparks.

Desires breaking free from their cage, Noah lowered his eyes, his Adam’s apple quivering, as his rough thumb pinched her delicate chin, moving towards that alluring red.

Just like that time in the hospital room.

In the moment of touching the softness, the person beneath him turned her face away.

Noah was taken aback, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

He leaned back an inch, his gaze locked on her cold, pale, stunning profile.

She was sunken into the black leather sofa, black hair cascading, eyes shut, while under his gaze, clear tears slowly trickled from the corners of her eyes.

Noah was awakened from a dream.

At this moment, she resembled a fragile glass beauty, cold, shattered.

"Vera?" His voice was hoarse.

"Senior, I’m sorry." Her voice quivered lightly, "I haven’t yet climbed out of the ruins of marriage, I don’t have the heart to invest in new feelings." Once bitten by a snake, ten years afraid of ropes.

"I didn’t tell you about the photo... because I feel we haven’t reached the point of life and death, of breaking the shackles, not talking about sacrifice..."

"Consider it self-preservation. After all, I’m still in the duration of my marriage... Gossip is terrifying."

Her words, each one like a chisel, etched upon Noah’s heart, completely extinguishing his impulse, bringing him back to full consciousness.

The surging desire in his eyes instantly receded, leaving only deep tenderness and profound self-reproach.

She had just struggled out of a cage, scarred and battered, yet he hurried to force her to face new emotions, an unforgivable act.

Noah slowly released his hand and stood up.

Instantly, Vera sat up straight, her fingers trembling slightly as she tidied her slightly disheveled shirt collar.

The next moment, Noah kneeled on one knee in front of her, slightly tilting his chin to look at her.

This posture lowered himself, carrying a sense of solemn respect and soothing.

His gaze was calm, deep eyes filled with gentleness and apology, his voice low and steady:

"Vera, I’m sorry. I was impulsive, I overstepped."

He paused, his voice sinking even deeper:

"But I want to tell you, that time in the hospital room, wasn’t a moment of recklessness, nor a frivolous act of lust; it was my... emotions suppressed for too long, momentarily out of control."

"Sorry for causing you distress."

Vera lifted her damp eyelashes, looking into his eyes so close at hand.

The light from outside outlined his deep contours, high cheekbones, tall, straight nose, the jawline taut with a kind of restrained curve.

He was half-crouched, shoulders broad.

As he spoke, his gaze like a deep, tranquil pool, silently enveloping her, giving her a sense of strength, gently shaking her head.

That kiss, she didn’t feel offended.

Noah stared at her unwaveringly, his gaze growing softer, "Vera, this affection is solely my feelings, you needn’t feel burdened, nor must you respond to me immediately."

"I can understand you need ample time and space now, to heal, to treat your foot, to return to the ballet you love, to find yourself again."

As he spoke, Noah’s mind was filled with her on stage, graceful and confident.

Her original family shattered, she brought her younger brother alone, realizing self-worth, economic independence, and personal independence through ballet, becoming a dazzling star.

Ballet has always been her spiritual pillar.

Noah’s lips slightly curved, his gaze firm as a rock, uttering words more sincere than sweet talk: "I will wait."

For seven years, he had never let her go.

Between them, it’s not about day and night.

Vera’s nose tingled, her throat choked up, unable to speak for a moment.

Noah pulled out a dark blue silk pocket square and handed it to her.

Vera took it, the soft fabric infused with his scent gently wiping the dampness at her eye corner, the cool touch slightly calming her chaotic emotions.

"What did you use to counterbalance Ian? Won’t it have any negative impact on you?" She raised her eyes, still red, showing genuine concern.

Noah Grant had already walked to the window, his tall figure silhouetted against the faint light outside.

At the sound, he paused slightly, and a subtle shadow flashed through the depths of his eyes before he turned around, his expression returning to its usual calmness: "Don’t worry, it’s just a temporary measure, nothing will happen."

His tone was firm, carrying a comforting power.

Vera Sheridan looked at his calm eyes, chose to trust him, and asked no further questions.

The man lifted his wrist and looked at the mechanical watch, "Vera."

"Where do you plan to go next?" Last night, he heard from Nathan Grant over the phone that his mother, Ms. Morgan, had made the decision not to let Vera return to the Grant Family Estate.

With Vera’s pride and current mindset, she would never return under the shadow of being "driven away," even if it was her grandmother’s place.

Vera’s expression was natural, even with a hint of relief: "I’ll go to Maeve Holloway’s place. She’s been in Ardendale lately, and we’ll look out for each other."

She paused, "Anyway... it’s just a few days."

Noah Grant gazed at her, capturing the forced calmness and the touch of bitterness from being expelled deep within her eyes.

His heart pricked slightly as he said in a deep voice, "Maeve’s place is good, you’ll be at ease there."

"As for Grandma," he slowed down his speech, "she doesn’t know about my mother’s decision yet."

"Once things are sorted out and the house is calm, you can visit Grandma anytime you want. Grandma’s place will always be your home."

Vera’s eyelashes trembled slightly, and she softly replied, "Hmm," without saying more.

"I’ll take you there," Noah Grant said, then led the way to the door.

...

He personally took Vera to the building where Maeve lived, watched them go upstairs, and then instructed the driver to turn the car around.

The car window slowly closed, instantly wiping away all the warmth from his face, leaving only a sharp, cold edge.

The black Cullinan headed straight for the quiet courtyard amidst the bustling old town of Ardendale.

This was Rosalind Morgan’s private residence in Ardendale.

The Grant Family’s roots were originally in Ardendale, but in recent years, they had shifted their focus north to Veridia.

Rosalind Morgan had specifically come from Veridia this time to "handle" the matter concerning Vera.

Noah Grant pushed open the car door, his leather shoes stepping over the cobblestone path in the courtyard, producing a cold echo.

The fresh scent of trimmed foliage floated in the air but couldn’t suppress the chilling aura emanating from him.

Deep in the courtyard, Rosalind Morgan, dressed in an elegant and proper cheongsam, was elegantly instructing a servant on pruning a bonsai tree with a small silver clipper.

Sunlight fell on her well-maintained face.

Hearing footsteps, she didn’t turn around until Noah Grant stood a few steps behind her, an invisible pressure she couldn’t ignore.

Rosalind Morgan then slowly turned around, her gaze sweeping over her son’s sharply defined cold face.

"Oh, if it isn’t our rebellious second son who gave up the family for a married woman," she said with a faint, mocking smile, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Ignoring Noah Grant’s accusatory expression, she continued, "What brings such a busy man like you here today?"

Noah Grant shot her a cold look, "Enough with the sarcastic remarks!"

Rosalind Morgan was momentarily at a loss, shot him a glance, "I did it for her own good, for your good, and for the Grant Family’s good. If that photo gets out—"

Noah Grant interrupted harshly, "I caused the trouble. If anything happens, why not come to the root of the problem, to me, instead of targeting an innocent woman who doesn’t know, who was threatened and involved because of your son?!"

Rosalind Morgan paled, her voice turning sharp, "Noah Grant, have you lost your mind! You’re the second son of the disciplined and restrained Grant Family! Vera is nothing, her mother was in prison, and she’s not even divorced—"

Noah Grant’s expression turned extremely dark, "That’s enough!"

"Ms. Morgan, you seem to forget—from the day I stepped out of the country and became independent seven years ago, it’s not your place to dictate my life."

Rosalind Morgan trembled with anger, pointing a finger at him, "Not my place? Do you really think you’re strong without the Grant Family, without your father? Do you think you could establish yourself in the legal world and make Ian Kane and the Crowe Family wary of you?!"

"And Vera, she’s nothing but trouble! Seven years ago, she disturbed your mind and made you give up a promising future! Now she’s making you forsake your professional ethics to threaten Ian Kane and the Crowe Family! Do you know how dangerous that is? Your father is at a critical time! For a woman, you’re putting the entire Grant Family on the line! And you dare say it’s not my place?"

He’s really gone mad!

In Rosalind Morgan’s mind, there was only the image of the well-mannered, obedient, and disciplined Noah Grant who grew up in a family of law and politics!

How could that disciplined, gentle son turn into this?