Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile!-Chapter 94: Desire and Thirst (3000)

Noah Grant stayed behind and picked up the black pieces again.

Vera Sheridan also focused her attention on observing the match.

Old Madam Grant insisted that Vera should be the strategist, but each time Vera was about to speak, Noah’s white piece would decisively land with a "snap."

Vera immediately noticed that the old lady was gradually falling into the carefully woven trap that Noah had set.

"How about this ’little point’ of mine?" the old lady turned her head to look at Vera, a childlike pride in her eyes.

Vera casually praised it as "brilliant," but her gaze carried a hint of disapproval directed across the table.

Noah sat steadily under the lamp’s shadow, his white shirt and vest outlining a composed silhouette.

The warm yellow floor lamp cast his profile onto the ancient shelf behind him, like a classical silhouette.

He slightly lowered his eyes, his gaze fixed on the chessboard, his long lashes casting small shadows beneath his eyes.

His slender fingers picked up a smooth black piece.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, he also looked over.

Their eyes met.

Vera shot him a glance, silently accusing with her eyes: How could you bully Grandma?

Vera knew that Noah never went easy on anyone in chess; the retired old officials at the chess club complained to her all the time. But tonight, he was actually playing tricks on his own grandmother.

Noah’s lips curved slightly, understanding her meaning.

He looked at the old lady, his voice still gentle, "Grandma is playing very aggressively in this game."

Yet his move landed in an irrelevant spot; it seemed conservative, reinforcing his position, but in reality, it continued to lure the enemy deeper.

The old lady chuckled at his "honesty," her interest even higher, immediately sending a white piece into his "feigned weak" area, aiming to breach his defenses.

The grandfather and grandson played move after move.

Seeing the old lady’s white pieces deep in enemy territory, like a trapped beast with no escape, Noah only needed to place another piece to complete the checkmate that had been half a game in the making.

Fingers holding that decisive black piece, suspended above the board, as steady as a mountain.

Vera looked at the old lady’s furrowed brow, then at the deepening night outside the window, and couldn’t help but glare at him:

Can’t you just make Grandma happy for once?

Noah’s suspended fingers paused for an imperceptible moment.

He raised his eyes, a deep gaze falling onto Vera’s face.

The sound of rain outside seemed to quiet for that moment.

Noah’s finger shifted direction swiftly!

The black piece that should have landed at the critical point for victory gently settled on an insignificant spot—a harmless "tactical capture," leaving a lifeline for the white pieces.

The old lady was overjoyed, watching the chessboard’s turn of events, immediately placing a white piece to claim his black piece’s life!

Vera also smiled, not expecting Noah to actually go easy, quickly adding, "Grandma, that was brilliant! Impressive!"

Noah had already begun to casually tidy up the pieces, his movements still elegant and precise.

"Grandma’s chess skills have improved; I underestimated her." His tone was calm.

The old lady picked up her phone, her face proud, "I’ll call your grandpa and tell him I beat you once too!"

As she spoke, she supported herself with Vera to stand and walked toward her room.

Vera helped tidy up the chessboard, curiously asking, "Did you ever lose to Grandpa Grant?"

Noah’s hand paused, looking at her, his Adam’s apple moving, "Yes, because of you, too."

Vera was startled, "Wh-what?"

Noah’s tone was indifferent, "It’s nothing."

He continued tidying.

Vera couldn’t recall when it happened, "Isn’t it nice to let the elders win and make them happy?"

Noah was taken aback, "It is."

"Grandpa and Grandma raised me, they love me; I never thought of pleasing them, always feeling they’d never truly be upset with me."

Tonight, because of one sentence from her, he did something he had never done for family.

Vera understood what he meant.

Grandpa and Grandma Grant loved him deeply, which gave him the confidence not to have to please them. A flash crossed her mind—of Ian Kane always pleasing his mother-in-law.

Listening to the cheerful laughter coming from the old lady’s call with Grandpa Grant, she smiled, "Listen, Grandma Grant is so happy."

Noah listened clearly, feeling a surge of joy, smiling with his eyes, nodding at her.

In the tea room, only the crisp sound of chess pieces being returned to their places and the pattering rain outside remained.

...

Night deepened, the rain persisted.

In the second-floor study, Noah personally drafted a "Divorce Complaint" and sent it to Vera, waiting for her confirmation.

Vera, however, had yet to respond, and there was no answer when he called her phone.

Noah took a cigarette, extinguished it in the ashtray, and picked up the printed document, heading downstairs, straight to the door of the westernmost room.

He knocked on the deep red door.

Silence reigned, the servants long since rested, and Old Madam Grant was already deep in sleep.

The "knock, knock, knock" of his knocking echoed through the villa, built in the 1930s.

No one inside answered the door for a long time.

Just when Noah Grant thought Vera Sheridan might have already gone to bed and was about to turn away, the door opened from the inside, bringing with it a cool scent of white tea mixed with gardenias.

Vera was washing her hair, with a head full of shampoo foam piled high like a plaster statue. She held up her hair with both hands, saw Noah standing outside the door, and gave a slight smile, "Kane, you were looking for me."

Water flowed down her neck and slid down her spine, wetting the thin straps of her nightgown.

Noah’s gaze lingered for just a brief moment on her damp neck before his eyes calmly and steadily returned to hers.

"Sorry to disturb you, I drafted a complaint, and there are some timelines and evidence chains that need your confirmation," he said, his naturally deep and magnetic voice sounding even more resonant at the narrow doorway filled with steam and floral scent.

"I called your phone, but no one answered."

He handed the document to her, his knuckles slightly pale.

Vera apologized, "I was practicing some basic moves earlier, so I set my phone to silent mode."

She supported her hair with one hand, freeing up the other to take the document, only to notice the foam covering her hand, prompting her to pull back.

A bit of shampoo splattered onto the back of Noah’s hand.

The foam gradually dried, leaving a tightening sensation on the skin, as if a small mouth were softly sucking at that spot.

Noah’s gaze suddenly deepened and intensified.

Vera said, "Kane, let me rinse my hair first, and I’ll come find you in the study later, okay?"

Noah’s Adam’s apple moved as he nodded, saying, "Okay."

He closed the door for her.

Vera returned to the bathroom and only saw through the mirror that the wide strap of her pearl-white nightgown was soaked, and the water stain spread downwards, almost reaching her chest, clinging to her skin in a semi-transparent veil.

In the next second, a tight feeling gripped her heart, and a blush of embarrassment spread across her damp, fair cheeks.

In the silent apartment, the sound of heavy footsteps was constant.

Noah returned to his own room, removed the half-burned cigarette from his mouth, and entered the bathroom.

Steam quickly filled the entire space.

Warm water flowed down his tanned back, tightening the thin skin over his muscles, exuding masculine pheromones.

Noah looked down at the back of his hand; the foam had long disappeared, yet he still felt like a small mouth was sucking at his hand.

His muscles tensed, his neck leaned back, and his prominent Adam’s apple flexed with an intense surge of masculine hormones. His jaw clenched as he stifled a desire on the brink of breaking free.

He tightly gripped the water faucet and turned it to the cold side...

...

Late at night, they met again in the study.

In the vintage-style study, Noah sat behind a large desk, wearing a white shirt and typing on a laptop, with the bookshelves beside him filled with thick legal tomes.

The air carried the humidity of rain, the ink aroma of ancient books, and a faint, elusive scent of his cold ebony wood fragrance.

Vera had blow-dried her long hair, tied it into a high ponytail, and wore a loose-fitting T-shirt paired with light blue jeans, looking both casual and conservative.

She sat across from him, holding a pen and making revisions on the complaint document.

Noah was leaving for a business trip to Veridia the next day and wouldn’t be back for three or four days. Confirming the complaint tonight would bring Vera’s divorce proceedings up the agenda sooner.

Neither of them spoke, focusing on the tasks at hand.

After a while, Noah lightly tapped the desk with his fist, prompting Vera to look up and meet his solemn gaze.

"Vera, about something very private, I need to confirm. If you’re uncomfortable, I can arrange for a female colleague from the firm to handle it with you," he said seriously, his voice calm and mellow.

A completely professional attitude as a lawyer conversing with a client.

"About your psychological shadows," he added.

Vera suddenly understood what it was about.

Her sexual anxiety.

After the marriage, her asexual marriage with Ian Kane was undoubtedly going to be the reason he cited for his infidelity. Noah needed to know the truth to find points of argument in their favor.

Under the warm light, Vera’s simple and gentle face lifted into a light-hearted smile, "It’s alright, I’ll just say it."

Now she could frankly face her past self and this wretched marriage that was about to be past.

At this moment, she regarded Noah as a lawyer, not as anyone else, and didn’t feel awkward.

Recording all her statements, Noah closed the laptop. By then, midnight had passed, and they wished each other goodnight before heading to their respective rooms.

As Vera’s figure was about to disappear around the corner of the stairs, Noah turned to look at her departing silhouette.

The past events buried deep in his heart floated to the surface...

Noah leaned against the wall, took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a few strong puffs, exhaling thick smoke and a sense of forlornness from his chest.

...

Ian Kane was sent to the hospital and remained in a coma for a day and a night.

When he awakened, his blurry consciousness registered a woman by his bedside.

She wore a plain qipao, her hair tied up, with a towel folded in her hand, leaning over him to apply it to his forehead. The cool sensation relieved the burning heat.

Ian’s Adam’s apple trembled as he grasped her hand, pressing it against his cheek. The man’s eyes revealed a mixture of attachment and humility, the corners of his lips lifted, and his pale, dry lips moved with a raspy voice like sandpaper scraping across a table.

"Honey... you still love me..."

Serena Everett looked at his pale and fragile appearance, her eyes reddening. She turned her face away, took a few deep breaths, and looked back at him, "Kane, it’s me."

Hearing the voice, Ian’s eyes slowly gained focus. Seeing that the person by his bedside was not Vera, his heart was wrenched, and he forcefully pushed Serena away.

He didn’t spare her another glance.

He turned to look at the bodyguard on the other side, asking coldly, "Where is she?"

This "she," of course, referred to Vera.