He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 13: The Intrusive Third Party

She let out a hopeless sigh, her desolate eyes filled with uncertainty about the future.

Felix Finch had seen Natalie Morgan’s medical report.

Premature ovarian failure.

It was a condition someone her age shouldn’t have.

"How did this happen to you?"

He didn’t know if Theodore Grant was aware. The Grant Family was so desperate for Natalie Morgan to get pregnant, and this illness would directly affect her ability to have a child.

Natalie Morgan couldn’t give him an answer.

Felix Finch didn’t press further. He just said softly, "You’re still young. If you get proper treatment, you’ll get better."

A bitter smile touched Natalie Morgan’s lips.

Though she wasn’t a doctor, she had enough common sense to know that a condition like this couldn’t be cured.

"Thank you for trying to comfort me."

Just as Felix Finch was about to speak, Theodore Grant pushed the door open and walked in.

"I’ll let you two talk." Felix Finch didn’t stay long.

He walked to Natalie Morgan’s bedside, carrying a nourishing medicinal soup prepared by the butler himself.

"Have some soup. It’s still warm."

His tone was no longer harsh, replaced by a feigned gentleness.

Natalie Morgan closed her eyes, not wanting to speak.

He poured the soup into a bowl and held it to her lips. "Be good. Have a little."

She turned her face away.

She didn’t even lift her eyelids.

Theodore Grant was not a patient man.

For him to be this patient was already a huge concession.

But she didn’t appreciate it at all.

"Open your mouth," he said, suppressing his anger.

Only then did Natalie Morgan slowly open her eyes. "I’m not dying. I don’t need this golden elixir."

The man’s fingers, holding the bowl, tensed until his knuckles were white.

The bowl and soup went flying into the trash can.

CLANG.

Natalie Morgan watched him calmly, her heart utterly still.

’His feigned patience wouldn’t last a minute before his true colors showed.’

’People can pretend, but they can’t change who they are.’

"Natalie Morgan, I’ve indulged you enough. Fine, don’t drink it. It saves me the trouble."

He almost blurted out, ’It’d be better if you just died.’

But the words stopped at his lips, suppressed by his reason.

Even so, Natalie Morgan could hear the words he left unsaid.

Their eyes met in wordless silence.

"Let me remind you, stay away from Sean Lane. You’re no match for him."

The name Sean Lane.

It was coming up far too often, and she couldn’t help but frown. "From start to finish, I have never met Sean Lane."

"The art studio you started working at—the owner is Sean Lane. And you’re telling me you haven’t met him?" He hated it when women treated him like an idiot. "Natalie Morgan, you’d better stay far away from him. Otherwise, things won’t end well for anyone."

’The owner of the art studio is Sean Lane?’

’Serena Sutton said it was her friend.’

’Could it be Sean Lane?’

’Impossible. Serena Sutton knew perfectly well what Sean Lane had done to her in the past.’

"I haven’t met the owner of the studio." ’If it really is Sean Lane, I will definitely quit.’

Obviously, Theodore Grant didn’t believe Natalie Morgan’s explanation.

But whether he believed her or not, Natalie Morgan no longer cared.

After a long silence, Theodore Grant got up to leave.

「A few days later.」

Natalie Morgan had recovered and was discharged from the hospital.

The one who came to pick her up was Theodore Grant’s driver.

"Ma’am, please get in." The driver respectfully opened the rear car door.

She instinctively took a step back, not wanting to return to that house. "Miller, I can’t go with you."

’If I fail to complete the task Mr. Grant gave me, I’ll most likely lose this job.’ "Ma’am, Mr. Grant said he’s waiting for you at home. He has something to tell you. Please, just come back with me this once. You see, I’m just an employee..."

The driver, Miller, looked like he was about to cry.

Natalie Morgan felt bad for him.

’Theodore Grant was used to doing whatever he pleased, never considering the feelings of others.’

’The driver, just like me, was nothing but a lowly ant in Theodore Grant’s eyes, completely unworthy of respect.’

"Alright, I’ll go back with you."

"Ma’am, please get in the car." The light returned to the driver’s eyes.

Theodore Grant was indeed at home.

And so was Wanda Lynch.

Natalie Morgan felt more like an unwelcome intruder.

Standing in the doorway, her gaze was cold as she looked at the third party who had made herself at home.

"Theodore Grant, if you wanted me to come here just to watch how lovey-dovey you two are, you really didn’t have to."

Natalie Morgan’s expression was grim.

Wanda Lynch’s furtive, provocative gaze made her feel physically ill.

Theodore Grant said nothing.

Wanda Lynch spoke in a soft voice, "Natalie, you’ve misunderstood. I’m going abroad in a few days for treatment on my leg. Theodore said I could stay here for a few days. If you don’t like it, I’ll leave."

She looked utterly sorrowful, leaning on her crutch in a vivid performance of self-pity.

Theodore Grant stopped her with a cold voice, "Who would dare make you leave?"

"Theodore, don’t be like this. I don’t want to make Natalie angry because of me. I should just go home."

Wanda Lynch’s eyes were brimming with tears, as if she had been deeply wronged.

This whole routine made Natalie Morgan sick to her stomach.

"Wanda Lynch, stop putting on an act. If you had any sense of shame, you wouldn’t be in a married man’s home. If you really want to take my place, then get Theodore Grant to divorce me sooner."

Natalie Morgan was thoroughly disgusted.

After saying her piece, she turned to leave.

Theodore Grant shot up from his seat, strode up behind her, and grabbed her wrist, dragging her upstairs. "I have something to say to you."

Theodore Grant was being exceptionally rough.

Natalie Morgan knew this treatment was reserved only for her.

"Then say it! Let go of me."

As the bedroom door slammed shut, the man finally let go of the woman.

Natalie Morgan demanded, displeased, "What do you want to say?"

"Quit your job at the art studio."

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command.

Natalie Morgan didn’t say a word.

She hated how he tried to control her.

"I need a job."

"If you need a job, you can do something else."

"Is there any other job I can do? Are there any places Mr. Grant hasn’t warned against hiring me? Or is it that you don’t want me to have a normal job, Mr. Grant? Would you only be satisfied if I had to sell my body?"

Natalie Morgan let out a light laugh laced with ridicule.

Her eyelashes drooped slightly, her vision blurring with unshed tears.

’Theodore Grant was such a pretentious fraud.’

’He’s so high and mighty, acting like he’s above it all. He has no idea that when a person is desperate, with no way out, she’ll do anything just to survive.’

"You..."

’This woman has gotten so sharp-tongued she can argue me into silence.’

There was a knock on the door.

"Theodore, I’m a little hungry." It was Wanda Lynch’s voice.

’She always picks the perfect time to show up.’

’She did it before, and she’s even better at it now.’

Natalie Morgan walked toward the door. Just as her hand was about to touch the doorknob, the man grabbed her by the shoulder and pinned her against the door.

He seized both of her hands, holding them above her head.

His thin lips, hot and smelling of tobacco, slowly brushed past her full, pink ones and moved to her ear. "Who are you planning to sell your body to? Felix Finch or Sean Lane? It’s probably Sean Lane, right? At least then you could be the wife of a Grant Family bastard and keep sucking blood from high society."

"That’s none of your concern, Mr. Grant." She struggled, kicking her leg, but he held her down firmly.

His solid chest pressed against her soft body, pinning her so she couldn’t move at all.

KNOCK KNOCK.

"Theodore, are you in there? Should we go get something to eat together?"