Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile!-Chapter 116: Power Outage

Vera’s fingertips gripped the thin sheet of paper tightly. When she flipped it to the back, another line in Ian Kane’s handwriting suddenly came into view:

"Honey, I can’t lose you."

The air in her lungs suddenly froze, and the anger laced with a bloody taste rushed to her head, making her vision turn black.

Can’t lose her...

So, he broke her wings with his own hands, satisfying his pathological possessiveness, wanting her to forever be the canary in his cage that couldn’t fly away?

"Heh..." A light, cold laugh squeezed out from Vera’s throat.

She suddenly closed the medical record book, grabbed her phone, and walked towards the window.

Her fingertips trembled slightly, but she resolutely slid the screen open, found "Senior Grant," and pressed the dial button.

The night breeze blew in through the open window, ruffling the stray strands of hair by her cheek.

As soon as the call connected, she cleared her chaotic throat, "Senior."

"Ian Kane wrote in my previous medical records not to proceed with my treatment. I want to ask, can this be used as evidence?"

On the other end, Noah Grant’s voice was as steady as a rock, instantly piercing through her turbulent emotions: "What specifically did he write? Can the handwriting be confirmed as his?"

"He personally noted ’Delay aggressive treatment, maintain the status quo,’ such phrases." Vera tightened her grip on the phone. "It’s his handwriting, I’m sure."

The line went silent for a moment, Noah Grant’s breathing deepened, "Understood, Vera. This is crucial. I need to see the original document to confirm the context and details of the handwriting."

Vera’s eyes showed a hint of delight, "Okay, where are you now?"

Noah Grant, "Right downstairs from you."

"..."

At the dark entrance of the alley, a black Cullinan lurked quietly.

The interior lights were off, only the faint glow from the dashboard illuminating the man’s stern profile in the driver’s seat.

Noah Grant held his phone against his ear with one hand, while his other hand rested casually on the steering wheel, fingers long and strong.

He slightly tilted his head, his deep gaze penetrating through the windshield, locked onto the warm yellow-lit window on the third floor.

A slender figure by the window was faintly visible.

Vera tightened her grip on the phone, looking down into the blur of darkness below her, "Then come up, both Maeve and I are home."

Noah Grant’s Adam’s apple moved, "Okay" he responded.

On the other side of the street, under a shadow darker than the trees, a Phantom was parked.

A crack in the window lowered, a point of red light flickered in the darkness.

Ian Kane rested the hand holding the cigarette on the window ledge, his eyes fixed on the obstructive Cullinan at the alley entrance.

He saw the driver’s door open and Noah Grant’s upright figure step out, the night wind brushing the flaps of his crisp suit.

The man took long strides, his pace steady yet swift, disappearing at the entrance to Vera’s building!

The cigarette burning between Ian Kane’s fingers was suddenly crushed against the expensive leather interior, making a quiet sizzling sound, exceptionally piercing in the dead-silent car.

His jaw tightened, staring at the empty entrance of the building, eyes dark and turbulent, as thick as unbreakable poison.

...

Noah Grant tread on the creaky, old stairs upwards, his tall and imposing figure appearing slightly cramped in the narrow, dim stairwell.

He had just stopped in front of the scarlet-painted, weather-worn door on the third floor and was about to raise his hand to knock when—

The door was pulled open from inside.

Warm yellow light streamed out, illuminating the entrance. Maeve’s cheerful and beautiful face appeared behind the door, casually draping a thin coat over her arm.

"Senior!" Maeve’s eyes lit up, her smile natural and bright, "You came just in time! I had a date tonight and was worried about Vera being home alone."

She stepped aside to let him through, "Now that you’re here, I’m relieved! I’ll be off?"

Before her words faded, Maeve had already slipped out past Noah Grant like a nimble fish.

Only the sound of her light footsteps descending the stairs and the tinkling of her keys echoed in the hallway, quickly disappearing around the stairwell corner.

Noah Grant’s lips barely twitched into a smile as he stepped into the warm interior.

Inside, Vera was standing by the window, still holding the medical record book, the warm yellow light outlining her thin silhouette.

The man’s tall figure stepped in, his presence steady and slightly imposing, silently spreading.

She raised her eyes, and Noah Grant’s handsome, strong features filled her view, and suddenly the morning’s events in the mediation room flashed through her mind, making her heart tremble involuntarily.

The not-so-spacious old living room of the Victorian-style building seemed even more cramped with his arrival.

She instinctively avoided his deep gaze, her fingertips subconsciously caressing the cover of the medical records.

The air felt stagnant, with only the faint sound of the wind from outside.

Noah Grant stood by the dark green vintage French sofa, his black eyes never leaving her, with a hint of a smile.

Feeling his gaze, Vera hurriedly spoke, her voice slightly dry, "Senior... please, have a seat."

She pointed to the single sofa beside him while standing there slightly awkwardly, not immediately moving closer.

In compliance, Noah Grant walked to the sofa, took off his suit jacket, and casually draped it over the armrest, revealing a high-quality white shirt underneath, outlining broad shoulders and a narrow waist.

This spontaneous action slightly alleviated the tension his presence brought.

"Let me take a look at the medical record." He sat down, reaching out to her with his palm up, his gaze calmly falling on the book in her hand.

Vera steadied herself, stepped forward, and handed the medical record book to his outstretched hand.

Unintentionally, their fingertips lightly brushed against each other.

Vera recoiled as if stung by a slight electric current, quickly withdrawing her hand and lowering her eyes.

Noah Grant’s motion of receiving the medical record halted imperceptibly for a moment, then he firmly grasped it without looking at her, as if that moment of contact was just an illusion.

He opened the book directly, his sharp gaze targeting those lines of incriminating handwriting, his brow gradually furrowing, focused and stern. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

The air seemed to flow again inside, permeating with his mature male presence.

Vera sat down on the long sofa beside them, waiting quietly.

After a while...

Noah Grant’s long fingers finally skimmed over the line "Honey, I can’t lose you," his knuckles slightly whitening from the pressure.

He closed the medical record book with a soft "snap," breaking the stagnant air inside.

Vera snapped back to reality.

Noah Grant’s Adam’s apple moved, "It’s his handwriting, and the motive to deprive you of treatment is clear. Next, I need to obtain the evidence of him bribing doctors and those doctors’ testimonies to form a complete chain of evidence. These words are significant, crucial corroboration, blocking his defense."

Vera nodded, "I saw the news about his malicious stock acquisition and now... at least those investors’ losses are being compensated."

"Now all that’s left is the evidence for the treatment."

As they spoke, she noticed Noah Grant seemingly tired, pinching his prominent nose bridge.

Under the warm yellow light, the faint dark circles beneath his eyes and the fatigue he couldn’t hide between his brows were clearly visible.

Remembering how he rushed back non-stop from Veridia last night, only to encounter Ian Kane’s counterattack, and was just now waiting outside her building... a surge of guilt and concern rose in her heart.

"Senior." Her voice softened, observing his slightly dry lips, "You... have you had dinner yet?"

Noah momentarily paused his movements, only then realizing his exhaustion and hunger.

He looked at her, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips. "I forgot."

Vera Sheridan frowned, words of reproach unsaid, and immediately stood up. "I’ll make you a bowl of noodles, it won’t take long."

Noah watched her, but in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to say "no need to trouble yourself."

...

In the kitchen, Vera had just placed a handful of greens under the running water, the sound of water gurgling loudly.

Noah’s tall figure blocked the narrow kitchen doorway.

He raised his hand, unhurriedly unfastening his cufflinks, and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt meticulously to his elbows, revealing his smooth and well-defined forearms.

"Let me do it, you go rest outside." His voice was low, his gaze sweeping over Vera’s fingers covered in water droplets.

Vera turned her head to look at him, raised an eyebrow, and a slight curve appeared at the corner of her lips. "You, a distinguished young master, know how to cook?"

Noah didn’t answer, instead, he went straight to the narrow stove, picked up the nearby kitchen knife, and weighed it in his hand.

The dim light fell on his focused profile, his jawline tensed.

"Overseas," he began, picking up a potato from the chopping board and starting to peel it, his movements skillful and fluid, smoother than using a peeler, "it’s either endure inedible food or do it yourself."

Moreover, during the years of estrangement from my family, I had to earn my own tuition and living expenses, scrimping and saving, working in restaurant kitchens was common.

Vera watched his adept peeling and slicing with a face full of surprise, then continued washing the vegetables. "Then I’ll assist you."

Noah curled his lips slightly.

In the cramped space, the two were busy with their tasks.

Occasionally, Vera would see him stir-fry with the ease of someone experienced, recalling his youthful days as a refined young gentleman, creating a strong contrast.

The rising fumes blurred his chiseled eyebrows.

"Soup bowl." He extended his hand without turning his head.

Vera responded and turned to get the soup bowl hanging on the wall.

The bowl was at the edge of the top cabinet, and she had to stand on tiptoe, her fingertips barely touching the rim, straining slightly.

A well-defined hand reached over her head, bringing warmth and a faint ebony scent, effortlessly retrieving the soup bowl.

His tall frame almost completely enveloped her between the wall and his chest, his warm breath brushing over the sensitive spot behind her ear.

Vera’s body instantly stiffened, a blush quietly rising behind her ears, her heartbeat pounding like a drum.

Noah lowered his head, his gaze inadvertently skimming over the slightly taut neckline of her camisole due to standing on tiptoe, the delicate whiteness and faint undulating curves caught his eyes.

His Adam’s apple bobbed suddenly, his grip on the soup bowl tightening, and he quickly stepped back, his voice slightly husky: "...It’s done."

The air was so thick it almost seemed to slow, with only the bubbling sound of the soup pot and the silent current between them left.

Then suddenly—

Splat!

The dim light bulb overhead abruptly went out, and the faint moonlight outside was instantly swallowed by the overwhelming darkness.

The entire kitchen, along with the living room, plunged into pitch-black dead silence where you couldn’t see your own hand in front of you!

The sudden darkness made Vera gasp shortly, instinctively stepping back half a step, only for her back to crash into a solid, warm chest!

Noah instinctively circled an arm around her slender waist, stabilizing her in his embrace. "Don’t be scared!" He paused, attentively listening to the dead silence outside the window, distant neighbors faintly heard complaining, "...it’s a power outage."

Vera gradually calmed down, her back pressed tightly against his solid, warm chest. Through the thin fabric, she could clearly feel his steady, powerful heartbeat and the tense strength of his arm muscles.

The darkness amplified all sensations, the warmth of his hand on her waist burning like fire.

Her body stiffened, afraid to move, holding her breath.

Noah was also tense all over.

The warm body in his arms pressed tightly against him, her body temperature seemingly raised a few degrees, and in the dark, all he could smell was the fragrance at the top of her head.

Vera struggled a bit, "Let’s go to the living room."

Noah regained his composure, taking a couple of steps and turning off the stove.

Just then, Vera’s right foot stumbled over something on the ground, and with a startled cry, she lurched forward!

In the dimness, Noah reacted quickly, stretching out an arm to securely hold her by the waist.

"Did you twist it?" His deep voice carried concern.

A sour pain shot up from her ankle, and Vera didn’t pretend. "A bit painful."

The next second, Noah gripped her supple waist with both hands, lifting her slightly and picking her up horizontally. In the extremely faint night light from outside, he cautiously navigated towards the sofa in the living room.

Vera lay against his chest, her nose filled with his rich masculine scent, full of masculinity and strength.

The man’s thunderous heartbeat reverberated through his chest, resonating with her.

Without the air conditioning, the air became even more stifling and sticky, her fingertips unconsciously curling against the hard muscle of his arm beneath the thin fabric.

Finally reaching the couch, Vera’s body was covered in a fine layer of sweat.

Noah bent down, gently placing her down, like setting down a precious fragile item.

In the darkness, his short bristles inadvertently brushed against her cheek, bringing a slight tingling sensation. Vera’s chest heaved, her breathing out of rhythm.

The man crouched down in front of her, his tall silhouette forming an even darker shadow in the blackness.

He fumbled to take out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

In the light, Noah gently pinched her slender ankle bone with his fingerpads.

"Hiss..." The sour and swollen pain was clear at his touch, and Vera couldn’t help but take a breath.

"Here?" His deep voice especially clear in the still night carried an imperceptible tension.

His rough fingerpads carefully pressed, "How does it feel? Don’t move, let me see if it’s swollen."

As he spoke, his gaze fell on her slightly reddened ankle, "Not too bad, where’s the spray?"

"Under...under the couch, in a small box." Vera’s voice was slightly tense.

Noah acknowledged with a hum, immediately leaning down to search under the couch, his movements swift.

"Bear it, it’ll feel a bit cool," he gently reminded, supporting her heel securely with one hand and holding the spray in the other, aiming at her red and hot ankle.

Vera nodded, the pungent spray spreading quickly in the quiet space, bringing a hint of coolness.

At this moment, Noah’s phone vibrated with an incoming call.

In a glance, the name "Ian Kane" pierced her eyes, and Vera instinctively clenched her hands, her nails almost digging into her palms.

Noah’s eyes sharpened instantly, like a blade, decisively reaching over her to press the answer button without hesitation, switching directly to speaker!

Through the crackling static, a low, mellow voice, with a hint of lazy amusement, clearly sounded, like a snake flicking its tongue:

"Barrister Grant, sorry to bother so late."

He paused, the amusement lingering in his tone, with a naked possessiveness and command:

"My wife is afraid of the dark and strangers. Open the door, and I’ll take her home."