Chapter 246: Chapter 244: As Long as You Live in His Heart, You Are the Winner (12)

After the reporters and media finally dispersed, the hallway quieted down. Quentin Grant asked gently, "From now on, I won’t let anyone bully you. Not even me."

Nora Ainsworth was a little worried. "What are you doing here all of a sudden?"

"I worked for two hours, and then I couldn’t focus anymore," he said honestly.

"Now that you’ve announced our relationship like this, the whole country will probably know in a little while. I’m worried I won’t be able to get out the front door of the hotel."

Quentin Grant took her hand and walked toward Ethan Ellsworth’s room. "With me here, who would dare touch you?"

Nora Ainsworth didn’t reply, but she felt a little nervous.

The two of them walked into Ethan Ellsworth’s room and found him sitting on the bed, holding a book.

Quentin Grant walked forward, glanced at the book title, and tsked. "Ellsworth, it’s rare to see you so quietly reading such a calming book. Is your heart in a state of utter turmoil?"

Ethan Ellsworth put down the book and sat up. "My good man, you may be unaware, but as of late, I have found myself mentally and physically exhausted. My heart is a bit lost and conflicted. I do hope you can pull me back from the brink before I fall off a cliff and am nearly killed."

Quentin Grant snorted with laughter. "Mentally and physically exhausted? Looking at you, don’t tell me you’ve actually lost your innocence?"

Ethan Ellsworth let out a heavy snort. "Of course not. What I’m feeling is much more serious than that."

"It’s because my heart has been in a bit of a mess these past two days."

Quentin Grant cut straight to the point. "It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you use the word ’mess’."

Ethan Ellsworth picked up a teacup from the table and drained it in one gulp. "Quentin, you should keep a close eye on Jean lately."

Quentin Grant’s expression changed. "What’s wrong with her?"

"Nothing’s wrong, exactly. I just think you should pay more attention to her. You’re her brother, you should care for her more."

"That’s a given," Quentin Grant said. "Do you guys wrap up filming tonight or tomorrow?"

Ethan Ellsworth huffed, "Around midnight tonight. The grand finale."

"Perfect. We can all go back to the city together. We’ll ask Jean to have a meal with us tomorrow."

Ethan Ellsworth changed the subject. "Young Master Grant, don’t get jealous tonight."

"Go on," he said, glancing at Ethan Ellsworth.

"Tonight’s the most heartbreaking scene. At the very end, I have to give Nora a passionate kiss." Ethan Ellsworth cackled. "Just tell me first, are you going to kill me?"

Quentin Grant smiled at him. "Let me tell you, I could kill you right now."

Ethan Ellsworth burst out laughing. "In that case, I’ll just have to tell Nora how many women you’ve kissed since you were a kid, how you kissed them, and where you kissed them. I think she’d be very interested."

Quentin Grant turned his head. Nora Ainsworth smiled. "Go on, tell me. I’m actually very interested."

Quentin Grant, looking sullen, quickly cut in to stop them. "For the sake of your work, I’ll allow it just this once."

Ethan Ellsworth huffed, "I’m so lucky. Nora’s first on-screen kiss was with me, and maybe the last kiss of her acting career will be with me too."

Quentin Grant snorted. "I’ll be on set tonight to supervise."

The three of them laughed in unison.

Jean Grant closed the bedroom door and pulled a pillow out from under her clothes. It was this pillow that was standing in for the dead child.

She gripped the pillow with both hands, tears streaming down her face.

She had told herself she was doing this willingly, but she couldn’t help but cry for that poor child.

She tied the pillow around her waist again, covered it with her clothes, and sat on the edge of the bed.

The quilt on the bed was still neatly folded, just as she had left it yesterday. Marlon Marshall never made the bed, which meant he hadn’t come home at all last night.

They had married in September, and now it was December. In such a short time, her life had almost been completely ruined by him.

Thankfully, she found out early. Before this, his words had already lost all credibility.

She lay on the bed and slept like the dead.

When she woke up again, it was already afternoon.

First, she called one of Marlon Marshall’s classmates and confirmed that Marlon had indeed gone to school yesterday, but he hadn’t shown up today.

Immediately after, she called Marlon. The call connected quickly, and his voice was so low it was almost inaudible. "Honey, I’m in class. I’ll call you back when it’s over."

A cold sneer flashed across Jean Grant’s lips, but her voice was normal. "Okay."

After hanging up, she stood up and went downstairs.

Mrs. Marshall was sitting at the dining table eating. When she saw Jean, she huffed in displeasure. "That damn girl from this morning, don’t let her set foot in our house again."

Jean Grant said unexpectedly, "This is my house. I’ll let her come and go as she pleases."

Mrs. Marshall choked, retorting, "What do you mean, your house? Half of your house belongs to my son!"

Jean Grant laughed. "Have you never looked into the law? My mother bought this for me before the marriage. It’s premarital property, which means it belongs to me and me alone. Even if your son’s name was on the deed, it wouldn’t be his. Not to mention, his name isn’t on it."

Mrs. Marshall was instantly furious. "Jean Grant, don’t think you can bully me and my son just because your family is rich."

Jean Grant stared daggers at her. "Who’s bullying whom here? I think you and your son know the answer to that perfectly well."

"Know perfectly well?" Mrs. Marshall sneered. "Who was it that shamelessly insisted on marrying my son? Who was it that pestered him until he had to marry you? It was all your scheme!"

Jean Grant couldn’t be bothered to argue. "Is that so?"

"Of course it is."

Jean Grant looked at the housekeeper. "Please make me a bowl of brown sugar egg tea. I’d like to drink it."

"Right away, Miss." The housekeeper immediately went to the kitchen.

The air was strangely silent. Mrs. Marshall didn’t speak, and neither did Jean Grant.

The housekeeper brought out a bowl of the egg and brown sugar tea and handed it to Jean Grant. After Jean finished drinking it, she went to lie down on the bed again to rest.

After lying there for a while, she suddenly jolted up with an idea. She drove out and bought over a dozen surveillance cameras, carried them back in a black bag, and secretly installed them herself in the second-floor living room. She just hadn’t expected that she would need to use them so soon.

Days like these always passed quickly. As night fell, Jean Grant seemed to have grown accustomed to being alone.

It also seemed to highlight the fact that, in the end, she had always been alone.

She opened the closet, took out a brand new set of clothes and put them on. She neatened her long, curly hair, took out the bank card she had hidden under her mattress, and checked the balance on her phone.

This was the card from her brother. He had given her ten million, and this was the remaining two million.

Marlon Marshall had used eight million of it to buy a car, and the rest had vanished without a trace.

As for the five million she had given to Mrs. Marshall, she had bought a car with it, and after splurging for several months, there was likely little to nothing left.

Jean Grant took the card with the two million. No one knew that when she got married, besides the ten-million-yuan dowry, her mother had also given her another card. She had never checked how much money was on it.

But she had long since hidden that card away. No one knew about it but her.

From now on, if that mother and son thought they could spend another cent of her money, they were dreaming.