CHAPTER 56: CHAPTER 56: AN UGLY SCENE

The one who entered was the youngest daughter of the Fordham family’s second household, Frances Fordham.

She had just graduated from college not long ago and liked to come to the manor to do sketches.

Carrying a painting easel in her hand, she walked in lightly.

"Is this... my sister-in-law?"

Aiden Fordham saw clearly who had come, and quickly reached out to help Stella Grant up.

Stella Grant abruptly pushed him away.

"Aiden Fordham, what do you mean?"

Her voice was cold and hard.

"You’re scared like this, so don’t touch me!" Stella Grant snapped through gritted teeth, her eyes full of resistance.

Frances Fordham saw this and promptly put down her easel to come over.

"Is my sister-in-law injured?" she asked with concern, her gaze falling on Stella Grant’s awkwardly positioned ankle, and the two small splints on her left hand.

"Should I help you back to your room to rest?"

"Thank you, Frances!" Stella Grant’s tone noticeably softened, carrying a hint of gratitude.

She knew Frances, the quiet little daughter from the second household, only 22 years old, and seemed rather well-behaved.

Frances Fordham cautiously supported Stella Grant, letting her lean on her.

Stella Grant hopped on one foot, slowly moving toward the stairs with Frances Fordham’s assistance.

"Sister-in-law, it’s quite tiring to hop like this," Frances Fordham said lightly while supporting her, "if I were a man, I would definitely just pick you up and run, like a princess carry; just thinking about it seems so romantic."

After saying this, she playfully glanced back at her cousin Aiden Fordham, who stood with an unchanging cold expression.

Aiden Fordham instinctively wanted to follow them.

Unexpectedly, Stella Grant seemed to have eyes on her back, speaking without turning around but with a thorny tone: "Remember, only a prince can give a proper princess carry."

She paused, her voice turning even colder.

"As for that cold-faced god, it’s best not to provoke him."

Aiden Fordham’s face instantly turned dark.

He halted, unable to stay there a moment longer, turning on his heels and walking out.

This woman, her temper is terrible, her mouth so venomous!

He felt a bit relieved that they had only seen each other twice a month previously.

It turns out women are quite different on and off the bed.

Was his brain flooded? Why did he think of bringing this troublesome woman back to the manor to recuperate?

He should have just sent her back to the old family residence directly!

...

Stella Grant and Frances Fordham stayed in the study room for an entire afternoon.

Unexpectedly, they got along quite well and quickly became close friends who talked about everything.

The afternoon sunlight seeped through the window, warm and comforting.

Frances Fordham sat quietly at the easel not far away, holding a brush, focused on painting.

Meanwhile, Stella Grant sat at the computer, her fingers swiftly tapping across the keyboard, strings of characters jumping on the screen.

She quickly opened a webpage, entered a hidden URL, and typed in several lines of code... entered many different commands...

She deliberately slowed down her pace, and after working for over half an hour, she finally finished.

Then she sent an email to her senior, roughly saying that she was injured, but it was not serious, she would attend the medical summit as planned, the summit attracted global attention, she couldn’t miss it.

Andy Lockwood received her email and seemed rejuvenated.

He instantly replied to the email, worried she might go offline.

The email was succinct, containing only one sentence, "Stella, where are you? I’ll come pick you up; the guy surnamed Zhu has been captured, waiting for you to deal with."

Stella Grant pondered for a few seconds and replied to the email, saying that her foot was injured and she couldn’t move about easily; she would attend the summit on time, keeping the person for her!

Upon seeing the reply, Andy Lockwood’s handsome face turned even colder.

He walked to the window and lit a cigarette; at this moment, he was contemplating a question.

Did Aiden Fordham force her to stay by his side, or did she willingly stay?

Recalling Aiden Fordham’s words: Helping her bathe!

That damned jealousy climbed into his chest, squeezing him until he couldn’t breathe.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

Carlos Fenton knocked and entered, seeing his gloomy face, "Have you found the senior sister?"

Andy Lockwood exhaled a mouthful of smoke, "She’s fine, she’ll attend the summit on time; try to deploy more security personnel and confirm the guest list again."

"Alright!"

"Today, our people tracked that Bruno Duvall entered the country."

This name visibly stimulated Andy Lockwood’s nerves; he recalled Bruno Duvall was a degenerate... a pervert, but his target wasn’t God N, he didn’t have the guts.

Then what’s his purpose for entering at this time?

Carlos Fenton handed him a file, "He seems to be looking for someone; it’s said Bruno Duvall previously had a foster daughter, who later became his mistress, but in the end, she fled!"

Andy Lockwood opened the file, inside was a photo of a little girl, with a clear face.

"Then help him find her!"

...

Night fell.

The manor was tranquil, Aiden Fordham hadn’t returned for dinner.

Past ten o’clock, the sound of a car was heard at the door.

Aiden Fordham was back.

He took off his suit jacket, casually threw it on the sofa, his steps somewhat unsteady, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol.

He loosened his tie and headed straight upstairs.

As he passed the door to Stella Grant’s room, a sudden clatter was heard from inside.

Very abrupt.

Aiden Fordham halted, the alcohol-induced stupor seemingly diluted slightly.

Frowning, he raised a hand to knock on the door.

"Stella Grant?"

No response. He called out again, "Stella Grant, are you inside?"

Still silent.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, a woman’s [scream] erupted suddenly from the room.

Sharp, short, filled with terror.

Aiden Fordham’s heart skipped a beat, without reconsidering, he directly twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.

"Stella Grant!"

The room was empty, only the bedside lamp was on.

No one.

His gaze swept past the disordered bed, finally fixing on the tightly closed bathroom door.

The sound had come from there.

He strode over, hand just resting on the door handle, instantly he heard a faint gasping sound inside.

He forcefully pushed open the bathroom door, the scene before him made his pupils constrict sharply.

The bathroom floor was wet, a snow-white figure curled up there, black hair damp against her cheek and shoulder, utterly disheveled.

Stella Grant didn’t expect him to burst in.

She had just finished bathing, slipped, and fell hard on the floor.

As she grimaced in pain, the door burst open, bringing Aiden Fordham’s stern face into view.

Eyes locked. Air froze.

Stella Grant frantically covered her chest and yelled, "Get out."

Aiden Fordham reacted swiftly, stepping forward and snatching up a towel hanging nearby, roughly wrapping it around her, concealing that eye-catching whiteness.

In the next moment, he bent over, his arms slipping under her knees and back, lifting her horizontally.

The movement was fluid, with not a hint of hesitance.

Stella Grant was caught off guard, exclaiming in surprise, instinctively reaching to wrap her arms around his neck.

Her icy skin pressed against his burning chest.

Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could clearly feel the [thump thump thump] of his heartbeat resonating in his chest.

Strong and powerful, each beat pounding against her eardrums.

Her own heart jumped to her throat! Not living anymore!