He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 112: That’s Right, I’m a Beast

"It’s so cold here. I’m taking her home." Theodore Grant staggered to his feet and walked toward the mortuary slab. Weller Kendall hurriedly stopped him. "Mr. Grant, you can’t."

"She’s my wife. I’m taking her home." His eyes were bloodshot as he pushed Weller Kendall aside and tried to embrace the person on the slab.

Weller Kendall once again blocked his path. "Mr. Grant, the madam... she’s already gone. You can’t do this."

But Theodore Grant seemed not to hear him, continuing to struggle to hold the person on the slab. "I’m taking her home. She broke her promise. I’m going to teach her a good lesson."

"Mr. Grant..." Weller Kendall spread his arms, his own eyes red as he choked out, "...we need to prepare for the madam’s funeral arrangements. You can’t take her away."

"Get out of my way." A look of anguish flickered in Theodore Grant’s eyes. "How could she be so cruel? Why did she kill herself?"

Tears streamed down his face, and his lips trembled. "Even if she hated me, she could have killed me. Why kill herself? Weller, tell me, why did she commit suicide? Did she want to punish me like this? Why? Tell me, why?"

Weller Kendall’s chest tightened upon hearing this.

He didn’t know why Natalie Morgan had ended her own life so easily either.

’Maybe it was a depressive episode.’

’The doctor had said she had suicidal tendencies.’

"Mr. Grant, you still have many things to handle. The engagement party..." ’We have to give them some kind of explanation.’

"My wife is dead. What fucking engagement party? Those contracts, I don’t want them. I don’t want any of it! I don’t want it..."

Theodore Grant shook his head, his voice hoarse, revealing endless despair and sorrow. In that instant, his world turned to black and white.

Weller Kendall couldn’t persuade Theodore Grant to leave, no matter what he said.

His only option was to call Claire Grant.

Claire Grant, who had been busy with work, was completely stunned when she heard the news about Natalie Morgan.

She didn’t know how she got to the hospital; every step felt as if her feet were filled with lead.

Looking at the woman on the mortuary slab.

Claire Grant took two deep breaths. She couldn’t bring herself to disturb the scene, so she turned to Weller Kendall and asked, "How... she was fine, and then... a car accident?"

"The police said... it was suicide," Weller Kendall said grimly.

Claire Grant’s heart was squeezed tight.

A suffocating pain quickly swept through her entire body.

’Suicide?’

’Unexpected, yet somehow... not.’

’After suffering so much inhuman treatment, the poor woman finally couldn’t take it anymore.’

’She had been strong enough, at least. She held on until now.’

Tears streamed down her face. Claire Grant wiped the moisture away and looked at the red-eyed man, her voice hoarse. "Well, isn’t this great. She’s gone now. I’d like to see who you’re going to torment next."

"Mr. Claire, actually, before the madam’s accident, her relationship with Mr. Grant had already improved quite a bit. Please don’t blame Mr. Grant," Weller Kendall explained on Theodore Grant’s behalf.

A cold sneer touched the corner of Claire Grant’s lips.

’Improved?’

’If their relationship had truly improved, would she still have chosen to end her life?’

"That was just an illusion," she said, her tone light yet sorrowful. "She was just looking for the right moment, a moment that would let her be completely free."

Helplessness, desolation, regret.

No other emotions could fully encapsulate what Claire Grant was feeling.

But more than anything, there was heartache.

It was an unwillingness to let go, a deep pity for Natalie Morgan’s short life.

Claire Grant forcibly took Theodore Grant away.

He locked himself in his bedroom.

He wouldn’t come out for anyone.

The engagement party was canceled.

The engagement party that all of Riverden’s major media outlets had been scrambling to report on was replaced by the news of the Grant family’s Young Madam committing suicide.

At home, Wanda Lynch watched the explosive news that dominated the screens and suddenly burst into delighted laughter.

"Oh, Natalie Morgan, Natalie Morgan. I thought you were so strong, but it turns out you’re just as fragile. You really went too far this time, didn’t you? Accidentally got yourself killed. Your timing couldn’t be more perfect. You’ve handed Theodore Grant to me on a silver platter. Don’t worry, we’ll be very happy. You can just watch us from your grave."

Wanda Lynch took out her phone and dialed Theodore Grant.

Once, twice, three times, he didn’t pick up.

On the fourth try, the phone was turned off.

"What’s going on? The engagement party made me a laughingstock. Shouldn’t he be coming to comfort me? Don’t tell me he’s still in a bad mood over Natalie Morgan."

’Whatever.’

’I won’t bother him for now.’

’Besides, she’s dead. It’s not like she’s coming back to life.’

’It’s normal for him to be in pain for a few days. Why should I pick a fight with a dead person?’

Only Theodore Grant and Claire Grant attended Natalie Morgan’s funeral.

The Grant Family’s cemetery was exceptionally cold and desolate. Delicate snowflakes drifted from the sky, falling freely.

Theodore Grant clutched Natalie Morgan’s urn and gently placed it into the grave.

There were two grave plots.

One was for Natalie Morgan’s soul to rest in peace. The other was the final resting place Theodore Grant had reserved for himself.

He had decided that whether she was willing in life or not, in death, he would lie beside her for eternity.

He had even carved his own name on the tombstone.

Claire Grant stood to the side, her heart filled with a storm of complicated emotions.

"What’s the point of all this?" Claire Grant had many accusations she wanted to voice. "When she was alive, you never treated her with kindness for a single day. Now that she’s gone, you’re putting on this act of deep affection. Who are you trying to show? And who would even care to watch your performance?"

But Theodore Grant seemed not to hear her. He knelt before the grave, scooping handful after handful of dirt to slowly bury Natalie Morgan’s urn.

His movements were earnest, focused, and deliberate.

The falling snowflakes collected on his dark hair.

Claire Grant let out a deep breath, a white cloud of mist escaping her lips. "Do you remember what Natalie Morgan was like when she first married you? She was such a lively young woman. Every time I saw her, she had this bright, sweet smile. I sometimes wondered how such a wonderful girl could exist in this world. She was truly like an angel..."

"...She was so beautiful, with such a good personality. She could paint such lovely pictures, and she was so full of love. But her life was so bitter. She desperately loved her husband, but never received his love in return. Her husband was even scheming against her and her family for another woman. She endured so much. Her heart must have been in unbearable pain..."

"...You never loved her, and you never even thought about falling in love with her. You just used her as an outlet for your frustrations. You never planned on building a life with her, did you? The only reason you’re this upset now is because she died too soon, isn’t it?"

"Yes. Everything you said is right. I’m an animal. I’m worse than a pig or a dog."

His voice was hollow, as light as the snowflakes drifting from the sky.

It was icy cold and utterly helpless.

’How could someone like him be worthy of speaking of love?’

’Who has he ever loved?’

’He has never loved anyone.’

’Perhaps he only loves himself. But why... why does his heart ache so fiercely?’

"You should go back first. I want to stay here a while longer." He remained kneeling, letting the snow cover his entire body.

Claire Grant’s lips parted, as if she wanted to say more.

But seeing Theodore Grant’s devastated state, she swallowed the rest of her words.

"Then you’d better repent."