He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 16: Heart Softened

The scratch quickly beaded with blood, a shocking sight.

He paid it no mind, dragging her inside.

"Disobey me again, and it’ll be more than just a scratch."

After bringing Natalie Morgan into the room, the man tossed her toward the housekeeper. "Treat the wound on her arm."

The housekeeper hurried to get the first-aid kit.

She opened a bottle of iodine to disinfect the wound.

The iodine stung on Natalie Morgan’s delicate skin, turning the red scratch a dark blackish-red.

"Ma’am, please bear with it."

She was long used to enduring pain, but not to others being kind to her. "I can do it myself, Mrs. Wallace."

"Ma’am, don’t move. It’ll be done in just a second."

After applying the antiseptic, the housekeeper found some gauze and gently wrapped it around her arm twice.

"Why are you here again?" Wanda Lynch’s sharp voice rang out.

With Theodore Grant out of sight, Wanda Lynch usually couldn’t be bothered to keep up her pretense.

Natalie Morgan glanced at her nonchalantly. "This is my home, isn’t it?"

Leaning on her crutch, Wanda Lynch limped over to stand before Natalie Morgan.

In a voice only the two of them could hear, she ground out, "Natalie Morgan, you’re nothing but a cheap slut who only knows how to seduce men."

This wasn’t the first time Natalie Morgan had seen this ugly side of her, so she wasn’t surprised.

’She figured it was because of that day when Theodore pinned her against the door,’ she thought. ’The sounds must have been too much for this cripple to handle.’

She couldn’t resist a sarcastic jab. "Theodore Grant doesn’t touch you, does he? It must be so hard for you."

"You..." Wanda Lynch lost her composure. Just as she was about to fly into a rage, she heard footsteps on the stairs.

Her expression changed in an instant. She stumbled backward, shouting, "Natalie, please don’t be like this! Nothing happened between Theodore and me! Please, you’re scaring me..."

As expected, she threw herself to the ground.

Her head struck the corner of a table, and blood streamed down her face.

Hearing the commotion, Theodore Grant ran down the stairs and caught Wanda Lynch.

Wanda Lynch weakly gripped Theodore Grant’s arm. "Theodore, Natalie was just being impulsive. Please don’t blame her."

"Housekeeper, call an ambulance!" Theodore Grant roared.

The housekeeper was so frightened that her hand trembled as she reached for the phone.

When the ambulance arrived, Wanda Lynch was carried onto a stretcher.

She clung to Theodore Grant’s arm, refusing to let go. "Theodore, I’m scared. Can you come with me?"

"Don’t be afraid. The housekeeper will go with you." With a single look from Theodore Grant, the housekeeper nervously grabbed a bag and followed them into the ambulance.

After the farce was over, Natalie Morgan prepared to leave as well.

Fuming, Theodore Grant grabbed her arm and threw her to the floor. "Natalie Morgan, how dare you hurt Wanda Lynch right under my nose! You must have a death wish."

This kind of undeserved torment...

She had suffered it many times during their two-year marriage.

No matter how clumsy Wanda Lynch’s performance was, Theodore Grant would always take his anger out on her.

A resigned smile touched Natalie Morgan’s lips.

"Theodore Grant, if you hate me so much, why don’t you just divorce me?"

Her words successfully provoked him.

He yanked her up from the floor and threw her onto the sofa.

"Divorce you? So you can run off and marry that bastard?"

"I told you, there’s nothing between us." She struggled, trying to push him away. "Theodore Grant, if you’re just looking for an excuse to justify your own affair, let me tell you, there’s no need."

"So you’ve found yourself a backer. That’s why you’ve suddenly grown a spine."

He grabbed her shirt. With a single tug, buttons popped off and scattered across the floor.

A sudden chill on her chest. Natalie Morgan scrambled to cover herself, hiding her shame and disarray. "You... you bastard."

Just then, Theodore Grant’s phone rang.

He released Natalie Morgan and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Theodore, it hurts so much... Will you come stay with me?" It was Wanda Lynch’s fragile voice on the other end.

Wanda Lynch knew exactly how to play her cards.

Theodore Grant had never been able to resist that kind of voice.

He shot Natalie Morgan a cold glance. "You’re coming with me to the hospital."

"I’m not going," she refused, her tone even colder than his.

His expression turned foul, his dark eyes simmering with unprecedented rage. "Natalie Morgan, you dare refuse me?"

Theodore Grant’s word was always law.

And he was always blind to the truth.

Whenever Wanda Lynch was involved, the scales of his judgment would tip unconditionally in her favor.

"Go upstairs, get changed, and come to the hospital with me."

Natalie Morgan gently pulled her torn shirt closed.

She went upstairs.

In her closet were only a few expensive outfits she hadn’t taken with her when she left before.

Her mother-in-law had bought them for her.

She had never brought herself to wear them, always fantasizing that Theodore Grant might one day take her to some important event.

Natalie Morgan laughed at herself.

After changing, she came downstairs. "I’m heading home now."

He raised a hand to stop her. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang again.

This time, the call was from the family estate.

"What? I’m on my way."

He grabbed her by the wrist and started walking out. "You’re coming with me to the hospital."

"I said I’m not going! Let go of me, you—"

"Grandfather is in the emergency room."

The Old Master had been ill for more than a decade. Logically, for a ninety-year-old, passing away would be a peaceful end celebrated as a life well-lived.

But the Grant family refused to let him go.

A fortune teller had once said that if the Old Master died, the Grant family’s good fortune would vanish for more than a decade.

The Grant family was wealthy, so they kept the old man alive with all sorts of expensive drugs.

When the drugs were no longer enough, they set their sights on Natalie Morgan.

Initially, Theodore Grant had adamantly refused to marry Natalie Morgan.

It was the Old Master’s approval in the end that allowed her to marry him.

In truth, the Grant family must have already known back then that her blood was useful.

Otherwise, no matter the marriage contract, if Theodore Grant hadn’t wanted to marry her, it would have been nearly impossible.

The entire Grant family, young and old, was crowded outside the ICU.

When Lucas Grant saw Theodore Grant arrive, he pulled him aside. "Your grandfather’s condition has worsened. Is there any news on Natalie Morgan’s side?"

"No," Theodore Grant said coolly.

Lucas Grant couldn’t help but chide him. "What have you been doing? Your grandfather needs her antibodies. If she doesn’t get pregnant, the antibody levels won’t be high enough. What’s your plan?"

Theodore Grant, in truth, had no plan.

Felix Finch had said that only a complete blood transfusion could alleviate the Old Master’s condition.

But...

That would be trading one life for another.

He didn’t want to do that.

Seeing his son’s silence, Lucas Grant looked up and glanced at Natalie Morgan, who was standing quietly off to the side.

He knew that some things were cruel.

But for the sake of the Grant family, for the Old Master to live, cruelty was necessary.

"Do the transfusion," he said.

Theodore Grant’s eyes narrowed. "Dad, isn’t her life also a life?"

"Compared to your grandfather’s life, whose is more important?" Lucas Grant said, his voice a furious whisper. "The Grant family has been facing one problem after another, all because your grandfather is sick. Once he gets this transfusion and recovers, the Grant Group will recover too."

The fortune teller’s words.

Theodore Grant had never believed in them.

But over the past few years, a few of the fortune teller’s predictions had come true, and he had slowly started to believe.

"We can find another way."

Lucas Grant was taken aback. Over so many years, they had tried every method imaginable. What other way could there possibly be?

To put it bluntly, at this critical juncture, his own son had gone soft.