He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 116: Enjoy Making a Monkey Out of Me

Chapter 116: Chapter 116: Enjoy Making a Monkey Out of Me

Wanda Lynch swallowed hard.

Her lips remained pressed into a thin line as she struggled internally, saying neither yes nor no.

Theodore Grant’s eyes were ice-cold. He slowly walked over, his hand shooting out to wrap around her throat, pinning her entire body against the back of the chair.

"I’ll give you three seconds."

His voice seemed to rise from the depths of hell.

"I... COUGH, COUGH..." Terror flashed in Wanda Lynch’s eyes. She took a sharp breath and shut her eyes in fear. "I admit it! I admit it. That painting... It wasn’t... It wasn’t painted by me."

Wanda Lynch’s answer perfectly matched the one in Theodore Grant’s mind.

He knew it. This had all been a mistake.

’But who painted it?’

’Wanda Lynch knew it all in such detail. She had to know who the artist was.’

"Who painted it?" he demanded, staring intently into Wanda Lynch’s eyes. A suspicion was already forming in his mind. "Tell me, and I might not snap your neck."

"It was... it was..." Wanda Lynch gasped for air, struggling to breathe. "...It was Natalie Morgan."

Something inside him broke.

The fragments plummeted from an impossible height, each one a shard piercing the softest part of his heart.

Pain rushed in like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him.

The first time he’d officially met Natalie Morgan, he’d felt that her eyes were so familiar.

By then, Wanda Lynch had already found him, and he had simply dismissed that sense of familiarity as a mere resemblance.

’Idiot.’

’He was such an idiot.’

"Why did you lie to me? What the hell did you want from me? The title of Young Madam of the Grant Family? The Grant family fortune? Or do you just fucking get your kicks from murder and mayhem?"

He tightened his grip on her throat, his furious breaths washing over her face.

Wanda Lynch was on the verge of being strangled to death in the chair.

Just as she felt her last breath slipping away, he suddenly let go.

"Get rid of her," he ordered, loosening his collar and taking a deep breath. "And... that Noelle Bell. Both of them. Make it clean."

Weller Kendall acknowledged the order with a nod and hauled Wanda Lynch out of the chair.

Wanda Lynch’s body had gone limp.

She scrambled to Theodore Grant’s feet, clinging to his leg and begging, "I was wrong, Theodore, I was so wrong! But I didn’t approach you with any ulterior motives! I’m just like Natalie Morgan, I just love you! Is it wrong to love you?"

"Love me?" A chilling, bitter smile touched his lips. "You love making a fool of me?"

"No, I didn’t! Natalie Morgan is dead, so I can take care of you for her! You can pretend I’m her, I don’t mind." Wanda Lynch clutched desperately at Theodore’s pant leg, her tear-streaked face tilted up to his. "If that won’t work, you can just treat me like a servant! Just don’t kill me, I’m begging you."

"Like I fucking need a cripple for a servant?" Theodore kicked Wanda Lynch away and flicked his fingers. "Get her out of here."

"Theodore, don’t do this to me! I can still be useful to you! I can give you the entire Lynch Family fortune! Just spare my life! I was wrong, I was so wrong!"

Wanda Lynch’s terrified, desperate sobs echoed throughout the President’s office.

But they did nothing to change Theodore Grant’s mind.

’Was Wanda Lynch the only one who owed Natalie a debt?’

’No. He owed her, too.’

He pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and stood smoking quietly before the floor-to-ceiling window.

After some time, he pressed the intercom button for his secretary’s office. "Order a red velvet cake."

The new secretary personally went to the dessert shop downstairs to order the cake and bring it up.

On her way, she happened to run into Weller Kendall, who was just returning.

"What’s this? Someone’s birthday?" he asked, purely out of curiosity.

The secretary shook her head and whispered, "Assistant Kendall, Mr. Grant ordered it. Is it for his girlfriend...?"

"The Young Madam just passed away. Where would Mr. Grant get a girlfriend?" Weller Kendall took the cake from the young secretary’s hands, gesturing for her not to gossip. "I’ll take the cake."

"Oh."

Weller Kendall carried the cake into the President’s office.

It was a red velvet mousse cake that looked like a bouquet of blooming red roses, exquisite and alluring.

"Mr. Grant, your cake is here."

"Mm."

He stubbed out his cigarette, rose, and walked to the table. He picked up the knife himself, cut a small slice, and began to slowly savor it.

Weller Kendall had been with Theodore Grant for many years.

He knew his boss’s habits inside and out. Theodore didn’t like sweets, especially the kind of desserts typically favored by women. He’d never once touched them.

’What’s with today...?’

"Mr. Grant..."

"Do you want some?" he asked, looking up at Weller Kendall. "If you do, cut a slice for yourself."

Weller Kendall was at a loss for words.

Just as he was about to speak, Theodore Grant raised a finger. "It’s nothing. You can go," he said, his voice bleak.

"Yes, sir."

The sweet fragrance of red velvet cake filled the empty office.

On her birthday, during the first year of their marriage, Natalie Morgan had bought a cake just like this one.

She had carefully offered him a small slice, holding it as if she were offering her very own heart. "It’s really sweet," she’d said. "You should try it."

Her voice was soft, her beautiful eyes shimmering with anticipation.

He, however, had shown no appreciation.

He had swiped his hand, knocking the cake to the floor in an instant. Cream and crumbs splattered everywhere.

His face had been a mask of irritation and anger.

"As a wife, you should know your husband’s preferences. Don’t just bring any random thing before me."

Natalie Morgan had frozen, the smile stiff on her face, the light in her eyes slowly dimming.

She had bent down to clean up the ruined cake and let out a soft, "Oh."

Her desire to share anything with him vanished in that instant.

Afterward, he had left to go celebrate Wanda Lynch’s birthday.

After that, he never saw Natalie Morgan celebrate a birthday in the Grant family home, nor did he ever see a red velvet cake again.

’How could he have been such a bastard?’

Theodore Grant gave a bitter smile and began stuffing the cake into his mouth, one bite after another.

When he couldn’t take any more, he ran to the bathroom and threw it all up.

He kept heaving until only yellow bile came up. Then, like a deflated ball, he collapsed onto the floor, his eyes vacant.

Weller Kendall entered the bathroom and helped Theodore Grant to his feet.

"Mr. Grant, should I take you to the hospital?"

"No need." He went to the sink, rinsed his mouth, and splashed some water on his face. "For someone like me, an early death would be a relief."

"Don’t say that, Mr. Grant. Even though the Young Madam is gone, life has to go on. You’ll worry your mother and Mr. Claire if you continue like this."

Weller Kendall helped Theodore Grant out of the bathroom.

He prepared a cup of hot tea and handed it to him. "If you collapse, the Grant Group will fall right into Sean Lane’s hands. You know the situation. He’s watching you like a hawk, just waiting for his chance."

Theodore Grant chuckled softly.

’He didn’t care anymore.’

’If Sean Lane wants to take it, let him. If he has what it takes, he can have the Grant Group for all I care.’

Slowly, he closed his eyes.

’He wished he could just fall asleep right now and never wake up. That way... he could see her again.’

Weller Kendall didn’t know what to say.

He could only fetch a blanket and gently drape it over Theodore Grant.

They say losing a loved one is like a gentle rain that drizzles in your heart for a long, long time.

For Theodore Grant, that rain had been falling in his heart for three years, and it still showed no sign of stopping.