CHAPTER 89: CHAPTER 89: YOU’RE MY HUSBAND

"When did I ever say I liked Mia Winslow?" Adrian Grant retorted.

The question circled back again.

"You don’t like her?" Eleanor Winslow was both shocked and found it absurd to finally get this answer, "You don’t like her, then why are you so good to her?"

Adrian Grant sat down beside her bed again, patiently asking, "How am I good to her?"

"Good to her?" Eleanor couldn’t believe it. How could this man ask such a question?

She was so angry that she wanted to count on her fingers, but her hands were beyond her control, and she could only just speak.

"Adrian Grant, it was you who hired the top-notch medical team for her, wasn’t it? It was you who showered her with resources, wasn’t it? You had a good relationship with her since you were young, right? And it was you who couldn’t wait to meet her even before cleaning up properly after leaving my bed, right?"

"You actually know how to curse?" Adrian raised an eyebrow, as if discovering some new fun.

From childhood to adulthood, she rarely used coarse words.

"Adrian Grant, should I count more?" Eleanor ignored his attempt to change the topic.

Adrian looked at Eleanor, her face strikingly beautiful, features exquisite, with an inherent noble temperament mixed with a pure academic innocence, making it difficult for people to look away—just like those men surrounding her.

"Eleanor, you can think more carefully. Besides these, what else have I done for Mia Winslow?" Adrian Grant said, "Every time I go on a business trip, I bring you gifts, but not her. When I see clothes, jewelry, and bags I think you’ll like, I buy them for you on impulse, but not her. You like to touch my abdominal muscles while sleeping, and I regularly work out without interruption, but not her."

"You are my husband, isn’t this what you should do?" Eleanor found it absurd, quite angry.

Adrian was momentarily stunned, feeling a stir inside, "What am I to you?"

Previously, she would only say he was her husband.

She rarely used the term ’husband.’

Husband is a legal and social status.

While husband clearly carries intimacy and recognition.

Eleanor rolled her eyes angrily, turned her head, not wanting to discuss this topic with him anymore.

Adrian asked her, somewhat amused, "No more questions?"

"No more!" Eleanor grunted, "If you don’t like Mia Winslow, then you don’t like her, it doesn’t have much to do with me!"

Adrian pinched her chin, turning her little head back, although his expression didn’t change much, it was clearly a bit annoyed.

"Why does it not matter? Am I not your husband?"

Eleanor corrected him, "You are soon not to be, President Grant."

It’s just that her hand injury is stalling the divorce process.

"Eleanor, I don’t like Mia Winslow, didn’t I make it clear?" Adrian felt a bit anxious.

Although he blamed Eleanor for the scheme and risk, it indeed caught Mia Winslow in a trap. At least if Mia Winslow gets desperate and tries to use injury to threaten Eleanor or deliberately harm her, Eleanor won’t be without any evidence favorable to herself.

But why does she still want to divorce?

Adrian leaned close to her, biting her lower lip uncomfortably, almost gritted, asking, "Is it because of Julian Jacobs? Do you like Julian Jacobs that much? Huh?"

Eleanor looked at him with some sadness, "It has nothing to do with Senior Jacobs."

Adrian sneered.

She actually wanted to defend Julian Jacobs!

-

The next morning.

Blake Lockwood brought breakfast and a file in a manila envelope to the hospital room. The bodyguard behind her was holding a bouquet of flowers, which Blake directed to place at the head of Eleanor’s hospital bed.

Seeing the big presence sitting on the sofa, she spoke, "Oh, Young Master Grant hasn’t left yet? Is the Grant Group going bankrupt?"

"Miss Lockwood." Adrian Grant pretended not to hear Blake Lockwood’s sarcastic remark.

Blake Lockwood said directly, "Young Master Grant, I have something private to discuss with Eleanor, not convenient for you to hear, could you kindly move?"

Adrian Grant looked at Eleanor, who hadn’t bothered with him the whole night, and surprisingly obediently went out.

Blake Lockwood closed the hospital room door behind him, locking it, and asked Eleanor, "Wow, he’s so compliant today, he didn’t act like a beast last night, did he?"

"No, he just nibbled a little."

"Isn’t that something?"

"Just pretend you’ve been bitten by a dog."

At least after that, Adrian Grant didn’t touch her again. She slept, and he dealt with paperwork on the sofa.

"The DNA report is out." Blake Lockwood withdrew her teasing tone, placed her hand on the seal of the manila envelope, "Shall I open it for you to see now?"

"Okay."

Eleanor stared unblinkingly at the manila envelope, the waiting process filled with neither expectation nor calm.

The report stated in black and white: [No blood relation].

"How could it be none? Did I guess wrong?" Eleanor was utterly shocked.

"There’s another one."

Blake Lockwood handed another result for Eleanor to see—

[Biological parent-child relationship, sample similarity rate reached 99.99%. Blood relation exists].

"This one is the test result of the toothbrush and hair." Blake Lockwood pointed to the first one, then to the second, "And this one is the test result of the blood and hair."

Blake Lockwood put these two inspection reports away, reminding, "Eleanor, that toothbrush was specially prepared by Mia Winslow for you."

"Hmm, I guessed it." Eleanor collected Mia Winslow’s blood just in case.

-

Eugene Winslow and Yvonne Vance returned to the hospital, only to find Mia Winslow missing. The doctor informed them that Mia Winslow had left two hours ago, insistently.

Yvonne was so anxious she started to cry on the spot, calling Mia Winslow. The other party answered, saying only, "Mom, don’t worry, I will return to the hospital soon," and immediately hung up the phone.

Winslow mansion.

Mia Winslow entered her bedroom, locking it behind her, and opened the innermost cabinet in the dressing room.

A man sat slumped on her dress, full of hostility, lazily lifted his eyes.

Those eyes, one noticeably darker, was a prosthetic eye.

Mia Winslow coldly said, "Young Master Preston, you should leave!"