Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 125: Ethan Blackwood, I, Claire Shaw, Am Never Letting You Go

Chapter 125: Chapter 125: Ethan Blackwood, I, Claire Shaw, Am Never Letting You Go

The moment Claire Shaw agreed to be with Ethan Blackwood, she was mentally prepared.

The person was her choice, the mountain was hers to climb, and she never thought of avoiding it.

However, the Blackwood family arrived faster than she had imagined.

Just as she was about to get in the car, a figure blocked her path.

It was Finn Pierce.

He adjusted the glasses on his nose, his gaze cold and presence even more imposing than the person who had arrived.

"I’m sorry, Ms. Shaw is currently unavailable. Mr. Blackwood instructed that even if she was to meet family, he would personally escort her back to the Blackwood Family when he returns."

"Assistant Pierce, make sure you understand your role clearly, this was the order of Old Mr. Blackwood."

"This is also Mr. Blackwood’s order."

Finn stood his ground, glancing at Wyatt nearby, "Take Ms. Shaw to the car."

Claire followed and got into the car, looking through the window at Finn still confronting the other party.

His tall and strong physique exuded an aura that seemed capable of holding back a thousand men.

It was as if the clash of new and old forces made Claire anxious.

Leo, seeing her worried look, explained, "Ms. Shaw doesn’t need to be nervous. Don’t say just one person, even if there were a hundred, Finn can easily handle them. We all have crawled out from piles of corpses; we’re not afraid of the dead, so why fear one living person?"

"But he is Old Mr. Blackwood’s man."

"So what? We are under the lead of the boss... people."

At this point, Leo’s face was full of pride, his dark pupils also sparkling.

Claire suddenly understood Ethan Blackwood’s intention; he left people not only for her safety but maybe also to guard against Old Mr. Blackwood taking action against her while he was away.

That person truly invests his utmost effort.

With his protection, Claire suddenly felt that the road ahead wasn’t so hard to walk anymore.

What was there to fear?

Even if the path was full of thorns, wasn’t he there too?

In the days without him, Claire immersed herself in her drawings, as at the beginning of the month, she was to parachute into the designer position.

In the past two days, Claire had been working tirelessly, with discarded sketches piled on her desk and the floor.

Only by staying busy could she avoid thinking of Ethan Blackwood, yet at night, the longing lingered...

Holding her blanket, Claire refreshed her phone repeatedly, but Ethan Blackwood’s message never came.

Three days had passed.

Bastard, you go back on your word.

Clearly, she hadn’t spent any meaningful night with him, but on such a rainy night, Claire really missed his warmth and embrace.

Ethan, Ethan...

Those two words lingered thousands of times in her throat.

The next day at noon, Claire received a call from Charlotte Chapman; she had picked a painting rejected by Owen Crawford to go to the art exhibition, and it ended up being sold for a high price.

Charlotte’s voice trembled softly, "Claire, two million!!! After tax, there’s still over a million! One painting is worth more than all sold before combined!"

Claire also paused with her brush, "Really?"

"Could I lie to you? Come over quickly and complete the procedures."

Claire hurriedly arrived, and the organizer said to her, "Miss Shaw, according to the rules, the buyer and seller need to sign a purchase agreement face-to-face, please come this way."

The buyer had significant influence, and the two were led to the outside of the lounge. Charlotte was stopped, and the staff disappeared after taking Claire into the room.

Upon entering the room, Claire felt something was off.

If the agreement was to be signed, why would the staff leave?

She quickly guessed who had set up this meeting.

Who else has the ability and power to orchestrate a meeting like this, if not Old Mr. Blackwood?

Sitting by the tea table was an old man with gray hair but in good condition, dressed in a traditional Tang suit.

He poured hot water over a fox-shaped tea pet, the scent of tea wafting, and beside the old man stood a man she had met a few days ago.

The old man didn’t look up, busy with his own tasks.

Clearly, it was he who had arranged this meeting with Claire, yet now he directly ignored her, plainly giving her a warning.

How could Claire not see through such a ploy?

Old Mr. Blackwood was different from Mother Blackwood; he had already shown his stance.

Claire Shaw maintained her original pace, walking to the tea table neither hurriedly nor slowly.

Her posture was graceful and upright, as steady as a pine or bamboo, standing quietly by the side, watching him brew tea, drink tea, without making a sound.

It was only when the teacup was placed back on the table that Old Mr. Blackwood raised his head to scrutinize her carefully.

Despite his age, his eyes were clear and sharp, showing no signs of the dimness that comes with aging.

"It’s really not easy to meet Ms. Shaw." His words came with a hint of complaint.

Claire smiled lightly, her voice neither humble nor arrogant: "I should have visited earlier, saving you from wasting two million dollars, Mr. Blackwood."

Old Mr. Blackwood stroked the teacup with his fingers, "In Ms. Shaw’s eyes, two million must be a lot, right?"

Claire was skilled at reading people and adept at the tea ceremony. If she wanted to please him, she would have long volunteered to shine, but she hadn’t.

His prejudice against her wouldn’t be satisfied by a painting, tea expertise, or submissiveness.

No matter how perfect she was, without a family background comparable to The Blackwood Family, it was all in vain.

Outside, the rain fell in a patter, the water in the tea kettle boiling.

Just like the current tense atmosphere.

Claire spoke: "I suppose your next words, Mr. Blackwood, will be that two million is trivial for you, yet it’s an amount I’d struggle to earn in a lifetime."

This was when Old Mr. Blackwood truly looked at Claire, the young girl with lips as red as cherries and teeth as white as porcelain, her eyes clear and open, meeting his gaze.

As if she could see through all his calculations.

Claire smiled slightly: "Equality among all, love is priceless—don’t bother saying you don’t believe that; I didn’t believe it even at three years old."

"I knew from the start the world is a huge food chain, there’s never been equality between people. Between Ethan and me, there are mountains and rivers; he’s divine, and I’m the most humble weed on earth, an existence I’ll never reach."

Claire’s words left Old Mr. Blackwood deep in thought, "You sure have self-awareness, indeed different from other women. No wonder you’ve caught the eye of that rascal. Since so, you should know my purpose. This two million is the breakup fee. Of course, if you find the price too low, you can ask for more."

Claire chuckled: "Sorry, Ethan is far more than just two million in my heart."

"Young girl, one must learn to be content; if your appetite is too big, even if it’s given to you, you might not be able to swallow it."

"Mr. Blackwood, you’ve misunderstood me. What I meant to say is that Ethan isn’t cheap, but neither am I, nor can your money quantify me."

Old Mr. Blackwood smirked: "So, Ms. Shaw, what do you think you possess that’s worth noting? Your recently resigned kindergarten teacher position? This painting? Or perhaps your mother who played mistress and your upward-climbing father?"

Indeed, everything about herself was investigated clearly by Old Mr. Blackwood.

Was it him orchestrating giving Damian Sutton, the anonymous report at the school, or the assassination attempts?

He tore open Claire’s scars one by one, "Or is it that you think your pretty face is worth mentioning? Dear child, beauty is the cheapest capital; if I want, I can easily find thousands of beauties."

Claire tilted her lips: "Then why haven’t you looked? Must be that Ethan doesn’t like them?"

"Do you have any manners? Is this how you speak to your elders?"

"Mr. Blackwood, you’ve already investigated my family’s situation. A wild seed unloved by parents, I’m lucky to be alive; where would I get any upbringing? Besides, it’s an established fact you don’t like me, no matter what I do you won’t like me, so why shouldn’t I be myself?"

Claire smiled mildly. Before Old Mr. Blackwood, stood the girl who once chased down a street with a brick after the boy who cursed her.

"What do you think you can offer The Blackwood Family if you marry in? Billion-dollar collaboration opportunities, or a strong background to protect The Blackwood Family? If you truly love him, you should set him free, not become a stumbling block in his inheritance of The Blackwood Family."

"Marriage in wealthy families seeks embellishment and resource exchange, not poverty alleviation. I don’t care whether you understand, my words stop here. If you’re unwilling to leave, I will have my own ways to make you leave. My patience is limited, Dean Blackwood, show her out..."

Claire steadily stared at Old Mr. Blackwood’s face, her voice clear: "Mr. Blackwood, my temper is quite good; if there’s a next opportunity, I can brew you some tea."

Old Mr. Blackwood slammed the table, an imposing chill pressed forward, making Dean Blackwood’s face change subconsciously.

"Claire Shaw, don’t refuse a toast only to drink a penalty!"

Yet Claire’s expression remained unchanged, "Old Mr. Blackwood, Ethan spent a long time getting me to accept him, if I give up because of threats in mere words, then my love is what’s truly cheap. You are The Blackwood Family’s master; you could naturally act against me, but that old routine is really too weak!"

Saying this, she picked up the teapot and poured herself a cup of tea, blowing on it, then drank it deliberately under Old Mr. Blackwood’s watch.

Her back straight, stately and poised, lips curled as her voice turned coldly fierce: "Allow me to tell you, whether or not you agree, Ethan Blackwood—he is mine."

Setting the teacup down, her voice softened back to gentleness: "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Blackwood. Goodbye."

This sudden change in demeanor astonished Dean Blackwood beside her.

Clearly, such a well-behaved young woman, how did she suddenly become so... daring!

Claire didn’t look back; she knew clearly what she had just done.

Confronting Old Mr. Blackwood’s authority, this action was akin to flinging mud at The Blackwood Family’s gates in provocation.

But then again, so what?

Claire suddenly opened the door, welcoming the storm outside.

The door opened.

Outside stood a tall man clad in black gear, soaked all over, raindrops slid down the man’s cold jaw.

A pair of dark eyes gazed at her tenderly, "Luna, I’m back..."