Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile!-Chapter 63: She’ll Be My Wife for Life!
Vera’s frail figure swayed, her right ankle feeling as if it were filled with molten lava, the searing pain unbearable.
Wendy Donovan also widened her eyes. Always elegant, she raised her hand to hit Nina, "What nonsense are you spouting again, Vera, don’t believe her!"
Worried that Vera might collapse from the shock again.
At the same time, she truly didn’t want to believe that Ian Kane had really betrayed Vera.
Nina raised her voice to refute, "Everything I’m saying is the truth. This time, for the dance troupe’s casting, he deliberately had Carter Sutton impersonate him, letting you see it, shocking you, before twisting it to show it wasn’t him, washing away previous suspicions of infidelity."
"He doesn’t want you to work, wanting to keep you as a specimen at home, never treating you like a person!"
"I still have backups of the last photos. If you want them, you’ll first have to kneel and beg me!"
Vera glared at her fiercely!
Wendy Donovan couldn’t hold back any longer, and backhanded Nina with a slap, "Get out!"
Noah Grant, who had been silent, frowned and spoke in a deep voice, "Professor Donovan, you’ve always been in Veridia, unaware of what Vera has gone through this past month."
Wendy Donovan fell silent, staring at Vera in a daze.
Watching as her body seemed to deflate like a punctured ball, collapsing softly. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺
Noah Grant’s expression darkened, stepping forward quickly, catching her just in time before she fell.
All her weight leaned against him, and even through the fabric, he could feel her coldness.
"Vera!"
Amid Wendy Donovan’s anxious voice, Noah Grant picked her up horizontally, ascending the wooden stairs of the small villa, three steps at a time, hurrying to the second floor.
...
Vera fell into a deep sleep.
Wendy Donovan covered her with a thick quilt, took her temperature, which was not high, but instead a bit low.
On the bed, her lips were pale, her fine eyebrows furrowed into delicate lines, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, a sobbing sound coming from her throat.
Noah Grant brought in a hot water bottle and handed it to Wendy Donovan.
Wendy Donovan tucked it into the quilt, patted the quilt, turned around, wiped her tears, and asked in a low voice, "Does Nina really have evidence? Where did you send her?"
Noah Grant said, "If it’s true, there must be traces. I had her sent to a hotel."
The phone rang.
Wendy Donovan quickly pressed mute, gesturing to Noah Grant as she went to the bedroom to take the call.
Noah Grant turned back, his refined, deep-set eyes gazing at her. His Adam’s apple slid as he clenched his fists, walking towards the door.
The tall, upright figure of the man paused as he opened the door, hand gripping the doorknob, pulling the door wide open, then turning back to the bedside...
In her dreams, it was the year of that vast, white snow.
In the middle of the night, she anxiously got up, carried a quilt to the small woods behind the dormitory, shielding the stray cats she usually fed from the cold.
When she reached the woods, she found that kind-hearted people had already used a warm foam box to build a cat house by the wall, more insulating and windproof than the quilt.
The next morning, she went to feed the cats and saw a tall, lean black figure standing by the cat house.
The boy slowly turned his head, looking at her, showing a bright smile.
It was Ian Kane.
That was the first time Vera felt a fondness for Ian Kane.
In his bones, he was also a gentle person, different from those playboys.
To her, he paid real attention, not just idle talk.
In the bedroom, the lighting was dim, only the lamp on the bedside table emitting a warm yellow glow.
The 26-year-old Vera had shed the innocence and energy of her freshman year. Her gentle femininity as a mature woman remained the same, but her inherent coldness and fragility persisted.
The man stepped forward, bending down, intending to tuck her hand exposed outside the quilt back in.
As his warm palm covered her fair hand, he suddenly remembered that snowy night.
He had just finished setting up the cat house for the stray cats she fed. As he left the woods, he saw her trudging against the wind and snow, clutching a quilt under her arm, sheathed in snow boots.
The girl slipped.
He quickly stepped forward, grabbing her hand.
The icy touch was just like now...
Noah Grant snapped out of it, hurriedly tucking her hand back into the quilt.
Just then, a strong aura swept in.
"Second Master Grant, what are you doing by my wife’s bed?" came Ian Kane’s faintly mocking voice from the doorway.
Noah Grant’s eyes narrowed, turning to look at him, his face darkened, and as he passed Ian’s side, he coldly retorted, "And you...you call yourself a husband?"
Ian Kane let out a cold laugh, his thumb stroking the wedding ring on his ring finger, firmly stating, "She’ll be my wife for the rest of her life."
Noah Grant cast him a glance, brushing past him, his strong arm almost colliding with him.
Ian Kane was forced to take a step back, Noah Grant’s voice coming from behind him, "Is that so."
Slightly stunned, a second later, Ian Kane’s jaw tightened, the veins on his temples throbbing fiercely, his dark eyes fixed on Vera lying in bed.
Not until the sound of a car engine came from downstairs did he return to his senses, walking towards the bed.
While driving, Noah Grant dialed his assistant. As soon as the call connected, he asked, "Have you obtained the evidence?"
"Attorney Grant, we are currently in Nina Sullivan’s hotel room, copying evidence."
In the hotel room, Nina Sullivan held an ice pack to her face with one hand while operating the laptop with the other, transferring photos from the folder to Noah Grant’s assistant’s USB.
These photos were all her private moments with Ian Kane.
They were taken every time she stealthily snapped them while Ian Kane was asleep, a testament to her love for him.
Occasionally, Nina Sullivan would open a photo.
In the picture, her face was flushed, as she rested on the man’s arm, curled in his embrace, smiling sweetly and blissfully, her eyes filled with enchantment.
Three years ago, the first time she saw him, she fell in love with him.
Regardless of his status, appearance, or his devotion to Vera Sheridan, everything about him deeply fascinated her.
She also fantasized that one day he would notice her and fall in love with her.
Seven months ago, she returned from a competition in Port Sterling and was on the same flight as him. Vera Sheridan gave her the opportunity to interact with him alone.
She had Ian Kane take her back to the dance troupe.
That was her first time in Ian Kane’s Phantom.
In the backseat, the air was filled with a crisp woody scent. The man in a suit and tie, sitting upright, had his left hand on his knee, the wedding ring on his ring finger glinting coldly.
A handsome, refined face, both elegant and restrained.
"Mr. Kane," she called out breathlessly, her face flushed.
The man remained in a resting posture, eyes closed, his tone indifferent, "Sit in the front seat."
Her posture froze mid-sit, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, wanting to get out quickly.
But in that moment, catching sight of his unattainable demeanor, her most primal ambition stirred, deliberately twisting her ankle and falling onto his lap...
That was the beginning of them.
Later, he transformed her from a shy and self-conscious little grass into a passionate and flamboyant red rose...
Nina Sullivan wiped away her tears, biting her lip to suppress the bitterness in her heart.
Filled with a surge of hatred, she thought that if she couldn’t have him, neither could Vera Sheridan!
She imagined Vera going crazy upon seeing these photos and immediately divorcing Ian Kane!
There was a knock on the door.
"Miss Sullivan, have you copied everything?" It was Noah Grant’s assistant urging her.
Nina Sullivan looked at the transferred files, pulled out the USB, and at that moment, her phone received a video call request.
Seeing it was from her cousin back home, she quickly answered, forcing a flattering smile.
In the video, there was also her uncle, the head of The Sullivan Family.
"Nina, we know about the so-called boyfriend you’re seeing in Ardendale. You lied to the family about being a celebrity and dating a wealthy boyfriend, but in reality, you’re being a mistress to a rich man!"
"That boyfriend of yours, Carter Sutton, already has a fiancée!"
Nina Sullivan’s face turned pale, instinctively shaking her head, "I, I didn’t."
She never expected this matter to reach the village, branding her as the third party between Carter Sutton and his fiancée.
She was the only healthy girl in the family without a hereditary condition, her parents’ pride, and she couldn’t let them believe she was a mistress!
"The village is abuzz with rumors, and your father was so upset he was just taken away by an ambulance!"
"Tell me, is it true or not? Do you still want to be part of The Sullivan Family’s lineage?"
Nina Sullivan’s pupils shrank, her soul shivering with panic, "Uncle, it’s not true, how is my father?"
Now, she was even more determined to become a part of the lineage, as being recognized meant she wasn’t a third party.
If not, her parents would truly be shamed for life.
In the video, only her cousin Kevin Sullivan was left. He stepped aside and whispered to Nina Sullivan, "Nina, an influential figure has promised to build roads in our village in your name, install streetlights, clear your name from being a mistress, and also let you into the lineage, provided you are compliant!"
"Otherwise, the entire Sullivan Family will be dragged down with you!"
Nina Sullivan was momentarily stunned, quickly realizing it was Ian Kane’s doing.
He had once again grasped her weakness.
...
When Vera Sheridan woke up again, it was already deep into the night.
In the dim bedroom, Ian Kane was leaning against her bed, resting with his eyes closed.
The man wore a white shirt and black trousers, a few buttons open at the collar. In the dim light, his profile appeared sharply defined.
Vera Sheridan quietly observed him, lightly shaking her right foot.
She found it hard to believe that he, who was attentive even to stray animals, could truly hurt her that way.
She still vividly remembered, after falling down the slope and waking up in the hospital, he explained to her that he was trapped by a storm in a cave, lost signal, and couldn’t contact her.
He knelt by the hospital bed, eyes red, his voice coarse, repeatedly murmuring, "I’m sorry, my love."
She had always believed without doubt.
Never regretted taking a group out into the raging storm to rescue him that night, injuring the most precious part of a dancer, her foot.
The phone on the bedside table vibrated suddenly.
Ian Kane abruptly opened his eyes, picked up Vera Sheridan’s phone, and saw the screen displaying the words "Senior Grant."
