’Who let that Lynch kid get so damn cocky!’

’Who let him!’

’Who let him hold her hand!’

He turned and followed them to the dressing room.

Standing at the door, he saw that Nora Ainsworth was doing her own makeup, without an artist.

When he came to stand behind Ethan Ellsworth, Ethan thought he was hallucinating the moment he saw the man’s face in the mirror.

"Young Master Grant?"

"Mm-hmm. Just checking to see if you’re dead yet."

Ethan Ellsworth’s face fell. The way he said it made it sound like some great disaster had befallen him.

Nora Ainsworth held her lipstick, her hand trembling slightly.

Once she finally finished her makeup, Nora Ainsworth said to Ethan Ellsworth, "I’m heading to the set."

"Go on, go on."

As Nora Ainsworth left with Leon Lynch, Quentin Grant, who had taken a seat, asked, "Has that kid been hanging around her this whole time?"

"What’s it to you?" Ethan Ellsworth shot him a sideways glance. "She’s not your woman anymore, is she? Weren’t you planning on tormenting her anyway?"

"Don’t tell me they’re actually together."

Ethan Ellsworth adjusted his hair and continued, "Forget about tormenting her. The way I see it, you’re putting yourself through the wringer."

"I enjoy it."

Ethan Ellsworth snorted. "It’s a good thing our director is a woman. If it were a man, Nora would have become a target."

Quentin Grant grew furious. "I’d like to see who’d dare!"

Ethan Ellsworth grinned, triumphant. "And you say you don’t care about her? If you ask me, you should just ravish Nora, show her your masculine prowess, and all your problems will disappear."

"If that method still worked, I wouldn’t need you to tell me."

"Then I’m out of ideas. Honestly, Young Master Grant, loving someone doesn’t mean you have to be with them. Sometimes, letting go is its own kind of fulfillment—for you and for her."

Quentin Grant looked at him. "I’m not you. I can’t do that. But you just wait and see. I will have her again."

"I thought you were waiting until after our show premiered."

"I thought that would be soon enough. Now, it seems far too long."

Ethan Ellsworth was stunned. He didn’t know what Quentin planned to do to her, but he knew the man was true to his word. A disaster was about to befall her.

’What happened yesterday was probably just the beginning.’

After breakfast, Jean Grant was in the courtyard, stretching a bit with her pregnant belly. Mrs. Marshall, having changed her clothes, approached with a smile. "Jean, dear, how about we go out for a walk together?"

For the past few months, Mrs. Marshall had been like a different person, showering her with care and affection. This had softened Jean Grant, who was originally resistant to her, and she no longer felt such strong aversion.

"Okay," she agreed readily.

As the two of them left the residential complex, Mrs. Marshall suddenly said, "Jean, Mom heard about a small clinic that does very accurate ultrasounds. Let’s go take a look and check if the baby is healthy."

"I just had a checkup at General Hospital a few days ago," Jean Grant replied. "The baby is perfectly healthy."

"Some doctors will just tell you anything. I’ll go with you, and we’ll get it checked one more time."

Jean Grant had no choice but to say, "Alright."

They took a taxi to a small clinic on the outskirts of the city. Just as they entered, Mrs. Marshall quietly pulled a woman in a white coat aside and whispered something to her. The woman then pointed to the stairs and said, "You two can head up first."

Mrs. Marshall led Jean Grant upstairs to a small room. Inside, there was a bed and a machine that looked like a small television.

A moment later, the woman came up and closed the door, plunging the room into darkness.

"Lie down on the bed."

Jean Grant did as she was told and lifted the shirt covering her stomach. The woman pressed around on her belly, looking intently at the screen before saying, "Mm, it’s a girl."

The moment the word was spoken, Jean Grant clearly saw the expression on Mrs. Marshall’s face change instantly.

On the way back, Jean Grant confronted her directly. "Mom, did you bring me here just to find out the baby’s gender?"

Mrs. Marshall, already unhappy knowing it was a girl, couldn’t be bothered to keep up the pretense. "That’s right. I just wanted to see if you were having a boy or a girl."

"What’s wrong with a girl? And what’s so special about a boy? It’s my child either way."

Mrs. Marshall mumbled awkwardly, "It’s your child, yes, but a boy would still be better."

Jean Grant retorted, "Marlon told me when I first got pregnant that you only like boys. Girls can carry on the family line, too."

"That’s just an excuse for women who can’t produce a son!"

Jean Grant was furious. "A woman can’t decide if she has a boy or a girl—that’s determined by the man’s chromosomes! Haven’t you ever heard the saying ’you reap what you sow’? I’ve never heard of someone planting a banana and harvesting a watermelon."

"So you can’t produce a son, and now you’re blaming my boy for it?!"

Jean Grant couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. She was seething inside. So, Mrs. Marshall had only been nice to her these past few months because she thought she might be carrying a boy.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the journey home. The atmosphere was a world apart from the trip there.

When she got home, Jean Grant went straight upstairs. The bathroom was warm from the heater, and she filled the tub with hot water, scattering some rose petals on the surface. She stripped off her clothes, slipped in, and let the comforting heat envelop her.

"Jean?"

Hearing the call from outside, Jean Grant answered, "In the bathroom!"

Marlon Marshall came in, closed the door, and squatted by the tub. "Did you and Mom go for a checkup today?"

Jean Grant nodded. "We did. The woman said it’s a girl."

Marlon Marshall dipped his hand into the warm water, stroking her rounded belly. "It doesn’t matter if the first one is a boy or a girl. If it’s a girl, we can just have another one later."

Jean Grant lay back, not wanting to move a muscle.

His words were enough to smooth out the creases in her foul mood.

The friction with Mrs. Marshall instantly faded into the background.

Zoe Ellsworth had been at school for over two months. Ever since she’d left Jason Irving a total mess, he had dropped out.

Zoe Ellsworth heard from her classmates that he was working as a male escort at a place called Quivering Lips.

’She felt nothing about this news. What he did was his own business.’

’In fact, wasn’t this a good thing for him? He could sleep with all sorts of women and have all the passionate kisses he wanted. As far as Zoe Ellsworth was concerned, he had gone off to enjoy life.’

For someone like her who wasn’t a diligent student, school life was relatively dull.

After her evening class, Zoe Ellsworth had just stepped out of the main gate when she saw Herman Hawthorne’s car parked nearby. As she got closer, she realized it was empty. The door wasn’t even locked. ’Herman Hawthorne is too bold,’ she thought. ’Leaving such a luxurious car parked unlocked like this. Isn’t he afraid it’ll get stolen?’

She glanced around before getting into the back seat and closing the door behind her.

After she had been sitting there for about five minutes, Herman Hawthorne returned, accompanied by a woman with an excellent figure.

They got into the driver’s and front passenger seats, respectively.

From their conversation, Zoe Ellsworth gathered that the woman was one of Herman Hawthorne’s subordinates.

The car slowly began to move.

Jasmine Walsh glanced at Herman Hawthorne. "Boss, the mission was a perfect success. Is there going to be a reward for us?"

"What kind of reward do you want?"