He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 124: I Can Be Even More Shameless

"Heartless and cruel? I’m not the one who stood someone up." His lips nearly brushed against hers. "Unlike you, Miss Childs. You knew someone was waiting, yet you completely ignored them. That’s not very charming of you."

’He’s the perfect example of someone who twists the truth.’

Natalie Morgan gazed at him coolly, her lips twisting into a sneer. "I see Mr. Grant is getting old and his memory is failing. When did I ever accept your invitation? How could I have possibly stood you up?"

"That’s not important. What’s important is that Miss Childs didn’t come to our meeting, and I’m very unhappy."

His nose finally touched hers.

She turned her head aside to avoid him. "Then what do you want, Mr. Grant?"

"Why don’t you spend the night with me, Miss Childs? Then we can call it even."

A teasing smile played on his lips. Natalie Morgan immediately raised her hand to slap him.

But he caught her wrist in a tight grip. "Miss Childs, you’re not behaving."

"Mr. Grant, we have no history, no grudge between us. Why are you humiliating me like this? Is it simply because I look like your deceased wife? Or is it that you were so used to bullying your wife that the moment you see someone who resembles her, you can’t wait to exercise your vile power?"

She thought her words would hit a nerve.

That even if Theodore Grant wasn’t deeply moved, he would at least have the decency to look ashamed.

Instead, with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, he nodded. "You’re right. I won’t let any woman who resembles my late wife get away, let alone someone like you, Miss Childs, who’s her spitting image." 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

"Ava..."

"Ava..."

Felix Finch’s voice came from outside.

He heard a noise from inside the men’s restroom and walked in. "Ava, are you in there?"

Just as Natalie Morgan was about to answer, Theodore Grant covered her mouth. "You don’t want your boyfriend to see us in here... ’talking,’ do you?"

"Mr. Grant, my boyfriend isn’t an unreasonable person, but if he knew you were bullying me, he wouldn’t look too kindly on you, his so-called friend."

Theodore Grant’s lips curled into a smirk. "Am I supposed to be afraid of him?"

"Ava." Felix Finch kept walking deeper into the restroom.

Theodore Grant cupped Natalie Morgan’s bottom and lifted her up. "For you, Miss Childs, I’d think it’s better to have one less problem to explain away, wouldn’t you agree?"

He turned his head toward the entrance and called out, "What’s all the shouting? Why would your Ava be in the men’s restroom?"

"What are you doing here?" came Felix Finch’s bewildered voice from the doorway.

"What, am I not allowed to use the restroom?"

Silence from outside.

As the sound of footsteps receded, Theodore Grant set Natalie Morgan down. "I really went to great lengths for you. Aren’t you going to give me a kiss for my troubles, Miss Childs?"

"How can you be so..."

He laughed, finishing her sentence for her. "...Shameless? I can be far more shameless than this."

His large hand clamped around the back of her head again as he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was fierce and crushing, as though he were unleashing three years of pent-up longing.

The space was cramped.

His powerful body pinned her against the wall, leaving her unable to move a muscle.

"Excellent." He released her, the pad of his thumb gently brushing against her swollen lips, a look of longing still in his eyes. "There’s no taste of another man on them."

"Pervert."

She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. "I like it when you call me that."

When she returned from the restroom,

Felix Finch was still sitting at their table, waiting for her.

"What took you so long?" he asked worriedly.

Natalie Morgan pressed her lips together, her face an unnatural shade of pale. "My stomach hurt a little... I heard you call for me, but I didn’t have the strength to reply."

"Do you want to go to the hospital? You don’t look very well."

"No, that’s okay. I’d rather just go home and rest. Besides, Momo is still at the neighbor’s, and I’m starting to worry."

Felix Finch grabbed his jacket and Natalie Morgan’s purse, then rose and helped her up. "Alright."

Theodore Grant walked out of the restroom.

He watched their backs as they left together.

His ink-black eyes narrowed, and a faint, barely-there smile touched his lips.

Theodore Grant did not leave Fenchest.

Occasionally, he would go to the school where Natalie Morgan taught art.

He liked to stand outside the window, watching her teach the young children, stroke by stroke, how to sketch various flowers and plants.

"Miss Childs, is that handsome man outside your boyfriend?" A sharp-eyed little girl had spotted Theodore Grant.

Natalie Morgan looked up...

The man raised his hand and waved at her.

"I don’t know him. Now look, this stroke isn’t quite right." Natalie Morgan turned her attention back to teaching the child. "You have to do it like this—a little lighter here, and a bit heavier here."

"I get it, Miss Childs."

The children focused on their drawing.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, Natalie Morgan stepped out of the classroom.

The look she gave Theodore Grant was anything but friendly. "Mr. Grant, you certainly are everywhere."

"I’m here to discuss some business. Am I interrupting?" he asked, his tone light and casual.

She said with clear disdain, "Yes."

"You have a way with words that can really sting, Miss Childs." The man chuckled.

He didn’t pester her further and turned to leave.

Natalie Morgan was suddenly taken aback.

A teacher came over to ask Natalie Morgan to go to the principal’s office. She shook off her bewildered feelings and left the classroom area.

"Principal, are you saying you’re assigning me to a private client... to teach art?" She didn’t quite understand.

The principal pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and spoke earnestly. "The gentleman has donated money and a great deal of supplies to our school. On top of that, he paid a fee of one million. What reservations could you possibly have?"

’Was that her concern?’

’Her concern was that the client was Theodore Grant.’

’He did this on purpose.’

"Principal, I have a lot going on at home right now, and I don’t have anyone to watch my child. Maybe..." She tried to find an excuse to decline.

"You’re the only one from our school who’s presentable enough for this. You don’t expect an old man like me to go, do you? What, have you started looking down on money as if it were dirt?"

Natalie Morgan didn’t have a strong desire for money.

When she had first arrived in Fenchest, life had been hard. Out of desperation, she had relentlessly entered her paintings into competitions.

Consequently, she won many awards and made a small name for herself in the art world.

If she were ever truly short on cash, she could just paint something, take it to market, and sell it immediately.

The reason she didn’t make a living this way was because she didn’t want to be conspicuous. All she wanted was to live a quiet and peaceful life.

She had no interest in earning a million from him for a month’s work.

However, the principal had been the one to recognize her talent and give her this opportunity, and she didn’t want to cause any trouble for him.

"Principal, did he specifically ask for me?"

"I was the one who suggested you." The principal pulled Natalie Morgan into a chair and poured her a cup of tea himself. "Just consider it a favor for an old man like me. Think of it as a month-long getaway."

"Only for a month?" she asked, uncertain.

The principal promised solemnly, "I only agreed to one month."

Despite her extreme reluctance,

Natalie Morgan still had to fulfill the school’s promise.

Theodore Grant’s residence in Fenchest was a spacious luxury flat.

The living room was decorated in a simple, low-key style. A painting hung above the console table in the foyer, directly opposite the front door.

It was the portrait she had painted for Theodore Grant all those years ago.

The painting was quite old. The paints she had used back then weren’t the best quality, so it looked a little faded.

She stared at it, lost in a daze.

"Miss Childs." The man came out and gestured for her to sit in the living room. "My late wife painted this for me. What do you think? It’s not bad, is it?"