Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile!-Chapter 118: Softhearted Once Again

Ian Kane used a ruthless tactic of "cutting off the soldier’s arm" to dissolve the evidence in Noah Grant’s hand.

Now, he still held the trump card of the hospital kissing photo!

The sensation of Noah Grant’s arm tightening around her waist came as a silent support.

Vera Sheridan looked fearless.

"Ian Kane, using threats over and over again, don’t you find it tiresome? I’m just disgusted!"

This sentence, like a poisonous thorn, precisely pierced Ian Kane’s most fragile nerve.

The man’s chest heaved violently, his dark eyes fixed on her nestled in Noah Grant’s arms.

Vera was unafraid, staring at him fiercely, "Go ahead and expose that photo! I, Vera Sheridan—would rather be ruined than return to you, this trash!"

Ian Kane was clearly taken aback.

The word "trash" nailed brutally into his soul.

For a moment, all his expressions froze.

The receiver echoed with his father’s cold disdain, "Lying again, vying for favor."

The broadcast of the crash in The Valdanian Mountains.

The countless times he’d seen in the mirror, the self-shamed as "worse than trash" by his father!

"Vera!" His voice was hoarse like sandpaper scraping, each word spoken through gritted teeth, "Say it again, and see what happens?"

Vera sneered, "Even if I say it a hundred times—Ian Kane, you’re just trash!"

"Look at what you’ve become!" She raised her hand pointing to his rage-twisted face and hand nearly crushing the phone, her tone was blatant mockery, "Like a mad dog!"

"For a woman who doesn’t love you at all, who even hates you, you degrade yourself like this, using your dirty influence to investigate, to threaten, to force... what else if not trash?"

"If you’re sensible, you’d get lost and stop humiliating yourself!"

As her words fell, Noah Grant stepped forward, holding the door edge, looking ready to close it, with a challenging gaze, "Ian Kane, leave now—"

Ian Kane’s eyes surged with rage, his fist flew straight towards Noah Grant’s face!

Noah Grant reacted quickly, dodging aside while delivering a sharp hook punch to Ian Kane’s jaw.

Ian Kane raised his hand to block, and the two immediately tangled at the narrow doorway, their fists and feet clashing with muffled sounds.

Each move was ruthless, evenly matched!

Watching the scene, Vera’s heart was in her throat.

Before long, both were hurt.

Noah Grant’s cheekbone was hit, his lip cracked; Ian Kane’s jaw also took a heavy blow, he grunted, blood oozing from the corner of his lips.

Their eyes fierce, they separated briefly, chests heaving violently.

"Enough!" Vera yelled sharply, quickly dialing the police: "Is this 110? Third floor, No. 303, Lane 52, Serenity Road, there’s a home invasion and assault! Please dispatch immediately!"

Ian Kane abruptly looked at her, then fixed his gaze on Noah Grant, equally bruised but resolute in front of her.

His chest heaved violently, eyes swirling with a madness to destroy everything.

Finally, his blood-stained lips curled into a chilling arc.

His eyes swept over the two, carrying a silent yet piercing warning: Just wait!

He abruptly turned and left.

...

The cold rain pounded the street furiously.

Ian Kane stood stiffly in the rain, his expensive shirt clinging to his powerful muscles, rainwater mixed with blood dripping down from his lips. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Battered, yet the storm of dark rage around him, potent enough to tear apart the rain, was like a beast on the brink of losing control.

Blinding car headlights tore through the rainy night, a sleek, visibly modified Maybach came to a silent stop.

The rear car door opened as Jasper Crowe stepped out with a broad black umbrella, approaching him.

"Kane." Jasper’s voice was low, eyes scanning his drenched back and bruised lips, brows furrowing, "We’ve been waiting for you all evening at the dinner. How did you end up here?"

As he spoke, he intentionally glanced meaningfully at the dark window of the old building’s third floor.

Ian Kane seemed not to hear him, nor looked his way.

He carried with him a chilly aura and heavy scent of blood as he slumped into the wide, comfortable leather sofa with a dull thud.

Jasper Crowe retracted the umbrella and climbed back into the car.

The cabin was extremely quiet, filled with the cold mix of cigar and top-grade leather.

Jasper Crowe sat on the opposite sofa, tossing a dry towel to his side, "Kane, you... fought with Noah Grant? Over Vera?"

Ian Kane leaned back in the sofa, eyes closed, rainwater trickling down his sharp features to the blood-stained collar.

From his clenched jaw came a cold command: "Release the photo."

Jasper’s eyes flickered slightly, hesitating momentarily before leaning back, a playful yet somewhat harsh sneer on his lips:

"Once the photo is out, Noah Grant’s ’noble’ image will be utterly destroyed, and his disgrace will be all but certain. The Grant Family? Hah, even Uncle Grant’s position might shake..."

He deliberately paused, observing the slight changes beneath Ian Kane’s closed eyes, then shifted his tone:

"As for your ’Mrs. Kane’... an ’adulterous woman’ in a hospital tryst, the White Swan turned harlot at talk. By then, she’ll be drowned by scandal and scorn. The Grant Family? Far from accepting, they’d wish to distance themselves by a mile and stomp her out of disgust!"

He chuckled derisively.

"Serves her right! Back in university, she acted like an untouchable high-flung flower, all my real gold and silver flattery couldn’t get her a glance. Hah, what a facade! The marriage’s barely over, and she’s desperate to jump into another man’s arms, betraying you. Such a woman deserves to taste disgrace!"

As his disdainful voice faded—

Ian Kane’s eyes suddenly opened!

His icy gaze locked onto Jasper Crowe’s face.

As if his reverse scale had been touched.

No wrongs about Vera allowed.

The air in the car seemed to be instantly drained and frozen.

Jasper Crowe’s expression turned serious.

"I’ll send it now." With that, his finger stabbed toward the already-prepared tablet’s send button, displaying the incriminating kiss photo.

Just as the fingertip was about to touch—

"Stop!"

Ian Kane suddenly ordered, his voice carrying a barely detectable tension.

Jasper Crowe paused, looked up at him, brow slightly furrowed, "What, getting soft-hearted?"

Ian Kane closed his eyes, his chest rising once, letting out a slight contemptuous snort through his nose.

"Jasper Crowe, what I want is the Vera Sheridan from back then, standing proud and pure on the stage, my immaculate white moonlight—not someone crushed by rumors, loathed by thousands, a ’harlot’."

Jasper Crowe’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly, inwardly sneering: Hmm, still stubborn.

When all is said and done, he still couldn’t really let her be ruined.

Yet he showed no expression on his face, tapping his fingers on his knee, and replied in a tone that was understanding yet slightly mocking, "Indeed."

The car fell into a lengthy silence, with only the dull sound of the torrential rain pounding on the roof to be heard.

Ian Kane closed his eyes, his mind filled with pictures of Vera Sheridan snuggled in Noah Grant’s arms, and her disdainful look...

The man was sinking into the shadows, like a solitary island.

...

Under the warm yellow light, noodles were boiling in the pot, and the aroma filled the air.

Vera Sheridan was focused on scooping the noodles, her profile soft and gentle.

Noah Grant leaned against the kitchen doorframe, a band-aid on his lip, maintaining his calm demeanor.

The phone vibrated, the screen showing "Jasper Crowe."

He walked to the quieter window space, answered the call, his voice devoid of warmth, "Young Master Crowe."

On the other end, Jasper Crowe’s voice was equally cold and direct, with the sound of driving rain in the background, "Second Master Grant, enjoy the company of your beloved, the photos are safe for now, he..."

Jasper paused, a barely perceptible sneer in his tone, "After all, he couldn’t truly bear to see his ’white moonlight’ become a rat crossing the street, couldn’t bring himself to act."

Noah Grant’s eyelids narrowed slightly, his gaze landing on the torrential rain outside the window, tapping gently with his fingers on the cold glass.

"Hmm." He responded indifferently, betraying no emotion.

"Second Master Grant." Jasper’s voice regained some of its laziness, carrying a politician’s detachment and reminder.

"Kane is a formidable partner for the Crowe Family; whether he divorces or not is irrelevant to us. Between us and you, we’ve always stayed out of each other’s business. Some matters, best left as they are, are good for everyone."

Noah Grant’s lips curved into a faint, cold smile with an invisible pressure, "Keep your people in check. Overreach will see you broken."

"Likewise." Jasper hung up decisively.

Earlier, Noah Grant had already communicated with the Crowe Family; they wouldn’t use the photos as leverage.

Noah Grant put away his phone and turned around.

Vera Sheridan happened to come out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl of noodles, the mellow steam softening her features.

She placed the bowl on the small dining table, lifted her gaze, and gave him a shallow, serene smile, "The noodles are ready, eat them while they’re hot."

The warm kitchen light, the savory aroma of food, and that newfound peace in her eyes instantly melted the coldness in Noah Grant’s gaze.

He walked towards the dining table, his voice warm and deep, "Thank you for your hard work."

Vera smiled softly.

Earlies that night, when Ian Kane showed up, Noah Grant’s words gave her immense confidence – "Don’t worry about the photos, I’ve talked to the Crowe Family, they won’t let Ian Kane release them."

It was precisely this certainty that allowed her to confront him so strongly and mercilessly.

Now thinking back, the extreme hostility in Ian Kane’s eyes as he left... perhaps he still didn’t know?

Didn’t know that the situation he thought he had firmly in hand had already been compromised by the Crowe Family and Noah Grant.

A cold smirk played on Vera’s lips.

Her gaze unintentionally swept across the floor in the corner of the entryway, where a dark men’s jacket was quietly lying.

It was Ian Kane’s.

She walked over, bent down to pick it up.

With a soft thud, a cobalt blue fountain pen slipped from the inner pocket of the jacket and dropped onto the polished floor.

The pen had smooth and elegant lines, its body a deep cobalt blue, reflecting the restrained luster of expensive metal under the light, obviously of great value.

However, right near the middle of the pen’s body, some transparent tape was tightly wrapped around it, utterly disrupting its elegance.

Vera’s eyes landed on the tape, her brow furrowed.

This pen...

It was the one she had snapped and thrown into the trash can last time.

There was no turbulence inside Vera, only absurdity and irony.

Without hesitation, she bent over to pick up the pen wrapped in ugly tape, opened the door, and with the jacket, which seemed to still bear his cold aura, she unceremoniously tossed them into the depths of the non-recyclable trash bin in the hallway.

Closing the apartment door, Vera turned back to the living room, her gaze falling on the dark suit jacket of Noah Grant resting on the sofa.

She walked over, intending to hang it up for him.

As soon as she picked up the jacket, she gently shook it open.

With a soft ’thud’, a round, cool black Go stone slipped from the inside pocket, silently rolling onto the soft carpet.

Vera looked down.

It was a black Go stone, its texture smooth and warm.

Engraved on its upper side were two clearly visible seal-engraved characters: Vera.

Vera’s breath stopped instantly.

Memories flashed like lightning through her mind.

During her freshman year, she had fought hard in a Go competition for the prize money.

In the late-night chess room, it was Noah Grant who patiently played match after match with her, eventually winning by a narrow margin and lifting the trophy. This stone, engraved with her name, was a memento she had given him.

Had he kept it all this time? Carried it with him?

She suddenly raised her eyes, her gaze fixing directly on Noah Grant by the dining table.

Noah Grant obviously heard the sound, turned his head to look.

His eyes first landed on the Go stone; then, they rose, heavy and profound, locking onto Vera’s eyes.

The two of them looked at each other across a few steps, the air seemingly solidified.

Noah Grant showed no hesitation.

He left the dining table, crossing the distance between them in just a few steps.

He extended his arm, drawing the person in front of him tightly into his embrace.

Vera’s body initially stiffened in his arms, then, silently, that tense strength relented. She did not pull away.

Outside, the sound of torrential rain continued unabated.

Vera’s whole being gradually relaxed, her forehead resting in the solid nook of Noah Grant’s shoulder, her nose surrounded by his faint medicinal scent and mature masculine aura.

Noah’s chin gently rested against the top of her head without speaking, his warm palm softly stroking her back repeatedly, like soothing a frightened bird.

Vera lightly closed her eyes, the tension in her nerves entirely dissipating at this moment, as an overdue sense of bittersweet reassurance spread throughout.

The heavy rain gradually abated, the sound of it dwindling into a blurred ambient noise.

After a long while, Noah Grant’s deep and hoarse voice sounded above Vera’s head, "The judgment notice should arrive tomorrow."