He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 132: You’re Quite the Little Genius

Natalie Morgan didn’t want to hear any of this.

She saw it as nothing but an act. "It’s not just the mistakes you’ve made, it’s the countless despicable things you’ve done. Did you also embezzle the inheritance my adoptive parents left me? Consolidate it, restructure it, and merge it into a subsidiary of the Grant Group? You’re truly despicable, sordid, and insatiably greedy, Mr. Grant."

She had investigated and figured it all out over the past few days.

It wasn’t that she was desperate to claim the inheritance from the Lynch Family.

But what right did Theodore Grant have to pocket something that wasn’t his?

"Let me guess, Felix Finch told you this."

"Am I not capable of investigating it myself?"

He admitted to categorizing and investing the Lynch Family’s assets. There was no real ulterior motive, and the returns hadn’t been substantial.

If she wanted it, he could return it to her with interest.

"I can give it back to you, and I’ll even throw in an extra thirty percent in profit. If you want it, I can have someone draw up a contract immediately."

Natalie Morgan didn’t mince words. "Then please, Mr. Grant, prepare the contract."

"Fine."

Natalie didn’t know if Theodore Grant was being truthful, but judging from his tone on the phone and his firm demeanor, it seemed he wouldn’t go back on his word this time.

After hanging up, the man said, "Once you’ve seen your father, I’ll have someone get in touch with you to handle this."

He didn’t know what exactly Felix Finch had told Natalie.

But he could make a good guess—and it was nothing good.

"About Felix Finch..." he began, wanting to warn her.

The woman cut him off in disgust. "I don’t need you of all people to teach me how to judge character, Mr. Grant. Can you stop being so preachy?"

The man was about to open his mouth to argue.

Just then, Weller Kendall trotted in. "Mr. Grant, I’ve brought him."

"Let him in."

When Natalie Morgan saw Maxwell Morgan for the first time, she was stunned.

When they had lived together, Maxwell Morgan’s hair was already showing some gray, and he had always seemed a bit weary from work.

But the father before her now had jet-black hair, looked hale and hearty with a ruddy complexion, and had even gained a fair amount of weight.

’He was living... well?’

"Dad." She took a step toward him.

Maxwell Morgan gave a sheepish grin. "Nattie."

There were no tears of joy as she had expected, much less a sobbing, tearful embrace.

Natalie was taken aback by his reaction.

’They hadn’t seen each other for five whole years. Hadn’t he missed his daughter at all?’

"Dad..." She gently hugged Maxwell Morgan anyway. "...Where have you been all these years?"

"Nattie, I..." He trailed off, looking as if he had a lot he couldn’t say.

Natalie gently broke the embrace and looked at Theodore Grant. "I want to talk to my dad alone."

Theodore Grant shrugged. "Fine."

Theodore Grant and Weller Kendall left the living room.

They went out into the courtyard, stopping at a distance that was neither too close nor too far.

Weller Kendall glanced back toward the house worriedly. "I have a feeling Maxwell Morgan is going to feed her a load of nonsense."

Theodore Grant lit a cigarette, placing it between his lips and taking a slow drag.

"If he doesn’t spin a tale, how is he supposed to explain the last five years to Natalie?"

That was true. But he’d have to make the lies consistent eventually, wouldn’t he?

"Mr. Grant, after they’ve met, are you going to let Maxwell Morgan go back?"

"Let him go."

’Letting him go is the only option.’

’Natalie already hated his guts. If he didn’t release her father, she would hate him to the bone.’

He took a deep drag from his cigarette, then slowly asked, "Have you found any leads on Felix Finch?"

"I have found a few things, but... there’s something I don’t quite understand."

"What is it?" Theodore Grant raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze fixed on Weller Kendall.

Weller Kendall scratched his head, looking puzzled. "I found out that many years ago, Felix Finch transferred money to Sean Lane."

’Felix Finch and Sean Lane?’

’How could two people who seem to have no connection whatsoever have financial dealings?’

"What’s your guess?" Theodore Grant asked.

Weller Kendall had considered several possibilities.

One was that Sean Lane had some small business on the side and was secretly working with Felix Finch.

Another was that they had teamed up for some reason, and the money was a fee for services rendered.

Since the amount wasn’t large, it couldn’t have been for a major business deal.

"If you ask me, the only thing connecting those two is Natalie Morgan."

On the surface, both Felix Finch and Sean Lane are fond of Natalie Morgan.

Logically speaking, that makes them romantic rivals.

"How could romantic rivals work together?"

"It doesn’t make sense."

"Could it be... because of me?"

Theodore Grant’s voice was low, his eyes holding an expression as deep and unreadable as an ocean undercurrent.

Weller Kendall frowned, confused. "Why you, sir?"

"Perhaps the person they want to take down together... is me." He chuckled, a hint of derision in the sound.

As it started to click, Weller Kendall guessed, "You don’t mean... the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Theodore Grant smiled and tapped Weller Kendall on the forehead.

"You’re a regular genius, you know that?"

"I can understand Sean Lane wanting to go against you, but why Dr. Finch? Did you two have a falling-out? Weren’t you good friends before?" He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. "Over another man’s wife? No matter how much he loves her, that just makes him the other man, doesn’t it? Besides, is he willing to disregard the Finch Group for this?"

Three years ago, Theodore Grant had all but driven the Finch Group out of Riverden.

They had only just established a firm foothold in Fenchest a few years ago. Was he looking for a death wish?

The Finch Family would probably disown him.

A distant look entered Theodore Grant’s eyes as a memory from the past surfaced.

A woman named Rose Yeats.

She had been pregnant with Felix Finch’s child when she leaped from a hundred-meter-high building, ending her life at the young age of twenty-two.

To this day, he didn’t know why she had shouted, "Theodore Grant, I love you!" as she jumped.

In truth, he barely knew Rose Yeats, let alone had any feelings of love for her.

After Rose Yeats’s death, Felix Finch had been extremely hostile toward him for a while.

’Does that count as a falling-out?’

"Mr. Grant," Weller Kendall said, pulling him from his thoughts.

Theodore Grant snapped back to the present. "Hm?"

"Maxwell Morgan is coming out."

Theodore Grant turned to look at the older man.

His head was hung low in dejection.

He looked downtrodden and dejected, his eyes bloodshot.

’It seemed the conversation between father and daughter hadn’t been a happy one.’

Weller Kendall walked over to him. "Mr. Morgan, Mr. Grant just said that if you wish to return to Yarrow, we’ll arrange for someone to take you."

After a long moment, Maxwell Morgan finally nodded. "Back to Yarrow."

Weller Kendall looked up at Theodore Grant.

With a flick of his finger, Theodore dismissed them, and Weller Kendall led Maxwell Morgan away.

He flicked away his cigarette butt.

The man turned and walked back into the living room.

Natalie Morgan was still sitting on the sofa, as quiet as a stunned little rabbit.

He didn’t ask her how the conversation went. Instead, he poured her a glass of water and offered it to her. "Here, have some water."

Natalie Morgan didn’t look up.

Nor did she take the glass from him.

She spoke in a hollow voice. "How could he betray my mom? Betray our family? He said he had his reasons, but my mom got sick and never recovered because of him. She passed away, and he’s not the least bit sad. All he can talk about, all he seems to care about, is how hard *he’s* had it."

She shook her head, unable to believe her father had become this kind of person.

Her tear-stained face slowly lifted to look at the man, her eyes filled with suspicion. "Did you make him say that? Did you coach him beforehand? What did you do to him?"