Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile!-Chapter 101: He’s Eager to Take the Throne

Vera Sheridan was tense and careful, uncovering the tissue wrapped around Noah Grant’s finger, revealing a scratch less than a centimeter long.

The bleeding had already stopped. It was a shallow wound and was almost healed.

She was momentarily dazed, and when she looked up, she met the deep and handsome face of the man, his brows and eyes carried a smile, his dark eyes fixed on her.

All around was his vibrant masculine scent mixed with the smell of summer sunlight, becoming more intense and scorching.

"Is it deep?" He smiled with a charmingly roguish air, his magnetic voice slightly teasing.

At this moment, Vera was sure he was deliberately teasing her, and the base of her fair ears turned a faint, almost imperceptible shade of pink.

"It looks... quite deep," she blurted out thoughtlessly, "I’ll help you take care of it."

Noah paused.

Vera lowered her head, her ears turning deeper red under the intense gaze of the man above her, becoming an intoxicating crimson.

Noah observed her change, his Adam’s apple moving up and down.

The sunset gradually descended in the west, cicadas on the branches noisily chirping.

When Vera turned to open the medicine box, she secretly took a few deep breaths to calm the anxiety in her chest.

She dabbed some iodine on a cotton swab, gently disinfecting the scratch. Her fingertip brushed past his warm knuckles, causing her to shudder.

Especially when she heard Ian Kane’s words, "He once had a crush on you," which threw her into disarray. She struggled several times to peel off the protective film on the band-aid.

Noah’s eyes darkened, and in his husky, magnetic voice, he said, "What are you anxious about, hmm?"

Seeing her inner thoughts revealed, Vera held her breath and stubbornly said, "It’s nothing, the film is just too hard to peel off."

Suddenly, Noah gripped the hand holding the band-aid. With his other hand, he used his fingers to peel the protective film with a little force.

Her left hand completely enveloped by his, filled with heat and strength, left Vera feeling as if chaos erupted within her, causing her to instinctively withdraw her hand.

Noah let her go, observing her girlish panic and helplessness, the corners of his lips slightly raised, a smile reaching his eyes.

Vera didn’t know how she managed to apply the band-aid.

Returning indoors with a composure and calmness, she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat like she had just been pulled from water.

After dinner, they played a few rounds of Go with Old Madam Grant. After pleasing the elder, Vera quickly returned to her room, changed into black practice clothes, and eagerly headed to the practice room.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the practice room door.

The room was neither too big nor too small, and the floor-to-ceiling mirror wall reflected her slender yet powerful figure.

Moving to the silver barre, she gracefully raised her arm, her neck as elegant and swan-like as ever.

The fragrant scent of gardenias wafted in from outside the window. Immersed in her world, she seemed to return to the most peaceful resting place of her soul.

Spinning, jumping, bending backward, sweat quickly soaked her softly fringed hair on her forehead, tracing down her clear jawline, shimmering like crystals under the light.

Her expression was focused and selfless, sometimes frowning slightly as she pushed through the limits of her body, at other times, a pure and satisfied smile would spread across her lips after completing a beautiful move.

Noah Grant appeared stealthily at some point outside the slightly ajar door.

Leaning casually against one side of the doorframe, he quietly admired through the open gap.

The cufflinks of his shirt were casually rolled up to his forearm, exposing a section of sturdy and smooth wrist bones.

One leg bent slightly, toes touching the ground, while the other long leg stretched lazily, drawing a straight, powerful silhouette.

Laziness yet exuding an innate nobility and sense of control.

Inside, after two sets of 32 whip-turns, Vera’s right ankle began to swell painfully. Struggling to maintain her composure, she made an elegant bow in front of the mirror.

When her right foot landed, her body swayed, and in the next second, she grabbed onto the barre.

Noah also pushed the door open and entered, asking with a deep concern, "Ankle hurting?"

Vera was momentarily stunned, realizing that he had been watching from the door the whole time. Covered in sweat, panting heavily, but with a smile lingering on her lips, "Mm, it’s slightly swollen."

Noah searched the wall for her emergency kit, striding over, kneeling on one knee in front of her, and retrieving The Healer of the Southern Clouds spray from inside.

Vera leaned against the barre, her right foot gently cradled in his hand, the cool spray quickly soothing the burning pain.

Butler Old Man Zane checked the doors and windows, as thunderstorms were forecasted for tonight. As he approached the practice room doorway, he was startled by the scene inside.

The young master, usually indifferent to women, was kneeling on one knee before Vera, his fingers massaging the young lady’s delicate white ankle...

The pose was intimate, as if they were a married couple!

Yet Vera was clearly the mistress of The Kane Family.

Old Man Zane shook his head and sighed as he walked away.

Vera glimpsed his passing figure, like a startled deer, she quickly withdrew her foot and looked toward the door with a guilty conscience, her heart pounding.

Noah stood up straight, "What’s the matter?"

Vera hesitated for a moment, then smiled faintly, "It’s nothing, it’s getting late. I’ll go back to my room to rest. By the way, did you need me for something?"

He couldn’t have missed the subtle detachment in her eyes and expression.

"It’s nothing..." His gaze locked onto her face, his tone calm.

Vera Sheridan vaguely caught the undertone in his words, lowered her eyelids, "I’m going to rest."

Noah Grant scrutinized her with his gaze, his Adam’s apple moved slightly, and he finally let out an "Mm," following her graceful silhouette out of the practice room, watching her return to her room.

As he reached the corridor, he took out a pack of cigarettes, flicked out a cigarette, and placed it at the corner of his mouth. The bright light from the lighter illuminated his sharply defined handsome face, as if chiseled.

He took a few deep drags, suppressing all sorts of tumbling emotions in his chest, and dialed a number, "Mr. Goldsmith, on the day of the divorce case hearing, try to help me get it directly adjudicated."

On the other end, Judge Goldsmith was visibly surprised, joking half-real, half-mockingly, "Noah, are you going through the back door with me for this?"

Thinking, what’s the rush.

He’s not normally a hasty person.

Noah Grant flicked the ash off his cigarette, staring into the dark night ahead, "The affair video is Ian Kane’s Achilles’ heel, and our side has no faults post-marriage, it can be directly adjudicated."

Judge Goldsmith, "What if the man drags it out with issues like property division?"

Noah Grant didn’t hesitate, "I don’t need the property; I just want the fastest divorce."

Judge Goldsmith was clearly taken aback on the other end.

Do you want it? Are you the party involved!

Judge Goldsmith still ran through the divorce case process in his mind, theoretically able to achieve a same-day judgment, "I’ll try my best."

Noah Grant, "You must."

Judge Goldsmith, "..."

...

Hospital.

Ian Kane sat in a wheelchair, being pushed out from the corner by a bodyguard.

At once, he saw that familiar figure hovering at the entrance to the ward.

The bodyguard reported, Owen Sheridan had been lingering nearby for the past couple of days, wanting to enter the ward but hesitating.

Owen Sheridan noticed Ian Kane, his body stiffened, pretending not to see, he lowered his head and was about to walk away.

"Owen," Ian Kane called to his retreating figure, his voice not loud, yet it pierced the silence of the corridor clearly.

Owen Sheridan’s footsteps abruptly halted, his back tense.

He clenched his fist before slowly turning around, his brow and eyes still carrying that rebellious defiance, filled with a sense of reluctance to engage.

Ian Kane’s expression remained calm, his gaze sweeping over Owen’s taut face, his tone revealing no trace of emotion: "Come in."

As if the bloody conflict had never happened.

These past couple of days, late at night, when Owen Sheridan lay down to rest, Ian Kane’s hurt look would flash back into his mind, like a thorn constantly pricking his conscience.

He couldn’t help but reflect on himself, wondering if that stab was too ruthless.

Inside the ward, Ian Kane stood with his back to the floor-to-ceiling window, the cool light sketching out his slightly pale silhouette.

He glanced at Owen as he entered, breaking the silence first with his deep, steady voice: "I’ll continue to invest in The Thorne Family’s lithium battery project."

Owen Sheridan raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised, replying stiffly, "I’m not here for that."

He also didn’t expect Ian Kane to be so "forgiving and forgetful."

"Oh?" Ian Kane’s eyelids slightly lifted, carrying a hint of inquiry, "Then for what?"

Owen Sheridan’s eyes flickered, his hands unconsciously clenching and releasing.

His gaze eventually settled on Ian Kane’s abdomen covered by a thin blanket, his Adam’s apple rolled slightly, his voice carrying repressed frustration: "At that moment... I hated you so much! My sister was preyed upon by you, my girlfriend bullied by you... Ian Kane, what I hated most was considering you family! Yet, you treated us like pawns to play with!"

Ian Kane remained silent for a moment, his Adam’s apple moving up and down.

When he spoke again, his voice was intentionally softened, "That stab, it was my own making. You needn’t blame yourself."

He paused, his gaze locking onto Owen, exuding the steady aura of an "older brother" he once had, "I’ve always remembered your sentiment towards me. Whether you believe it or not, I never wanted you to end up in prison."

His words were gentle, calm, and subtly tinged with... nostalgia.

Owen Sheridan felt a sudden tightness in his throat, a wave of bitterness welled up to his eyes, making them glisten with broken light.

He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse with resolve, "Kane... take care. With my sister, part well, part peacefully."

As the last word fell, he turned abruptly, almost fleeing out of the ward. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

The moment the door shut, a scalding drop finally broke free, falling onto the cold floor tiles.

The ward returned to silence.

Ian Kane faced the closed door alone, mulling over those words "part well, part peacefully."

After a long while, a faint, chilling mockery climbed silently to the corner of his lips.

Soon after Owen left, a bodyguard entered, reporting quietly, "President Kane, Madam and Ms. Maeve Holloway are outside."

The mockery on Ian Kane’s face instantly vanished, replaced by a layer of frost-like calm.

He gazed ahead, instructing lightly, "Let them in."