CHAPTER 145: CHAPTER 145: TWO YEARS LATER, ON STAGE

His arms tightly encircled her, his entire weight almost pressing down on her, as if releasing even the slightest bit would make her disappear instantly.

She had never seen him like this, in pain, vulnerable, as if his bones had been stripped away.

Vera lifted her trembling hand, instinctively wanting to touch the back of his neck, "Noah, you..."

His scorching breath sprayed on her collarbone, both hot and itchy.

Noah’s eyes were drowsy and confused, like a drowning man finally finding driftwood, burying his face into her neck and greedily inhaling her scent.

In the next moment, he freed a hand, fumbling to lift her skirt...

Vera’s entire body stiffened abruptly, her fingernails instantly digging into the flesh of his arm, "No."

The word "no," tinged with tears, was like a basin of cold water poured over his head.

Noah’s movements froze in midair, as if struck by lightning, he suddenly became clear-headed.

He withdrew his hand like it had been electrocuted, quickly pulling down the lifted skirt to cover the glaringly white skin, the daze in his eyes instantly retreating, leaving only chaos and dread, staring at her reddened eyelids, "...Did I scare you?"

The two were so close, their breaths mingling.

Vera lowered her eyes, her heartbeat still pounding in her throat, "No."

Noah straightened up, irritably ruffling his hair, his voice hoarse, "Just now... did the hairdryer burn you?"

"No," Vera said, about to slide down from the edge of the dressing table.

Noah caught her back into the chair, his eyes sweeping over the mess on the floor.

Bottles and jars rolling everywhere, tipped over.

Only then did he belatedly realize what he had done, his temples throbbing, his voice heavy, "Vera... I was drunk..."

Recalling his wild, out-of-control state just moments ago, Vera’s heart still trembled, and she softly asked, "Were you just upset about what happened when you went abroad seven years ago?"

Noah felt a sharp stab in his heart, though he pretended to be at ease, "Yeah, missed seven years with you, and then..." entangled by Ian Kane for seven years, causing her to end up like this.

"I’ll wash my face." He cut himself off, turning and quickly walked away.

Vera watched his back, quietly responding with an "Mm."

The air still carried the remnants of alcohol and a disturbing restlessness.

She gently touched her lips, almost breaking the skin...

In the courtyard, Noah took deep drags of his cigarette, the spicy smoke choking his lungs, finally allowing him to calm down completely.

After a long while, he went inside to help Vera clean up the mess, then moved into the west wing of the courtyard.

...

The next morning, the living room was unusually quiet.

Vera maneuvered her wheelchair to the coffee table.

An exquisite rosewood food box sat quietly there, next to it were two things: a brand-new box of throat lozenges and an aerosol spray, the instructions on the medicine box clearly visible; along with a bottle of imported loquat syrup, from a gentler brand.

Obviously, Noah had bought these.

He had carefully noticed her throat inflammation.

Seeing the "Salvation Hall" bottle, she closed her eyes, suppressing the flood of memories.

In the past, when Ian Kane was pursuing Vera, he was almost obsessively attentive to her every need. Upon hearing she had chronic pharyngitis, he had tried nearly every available medication through Owen Sheridan until she found this old brand to be effective.

The same reason Maeve Holloway had specially brought it from Ardendale.

"Where’s the senior brother? Wasn’t he back last night? I didn’t dare come out and disturb you." Maeve walked out from behind the screen in slippers, lazily asking.

Vera rolled her eyes at her, "Nothing’s settled yet, he’s already gone out, left a message saying there’s a lot to handle at the law firm. The snacks in the food box, warm them up for breakfast, Grandma Grant had him bring them."

Maeve glanced at Vera’s blushing ears but said nothing, swiftly going to warm the snacks.

The next day, the Crestwood expert group arrived in Veridia.

Noah personally accompanied her for the examination and consultation.

The final conclusion didn’t differ much from what the domestic doctors had said. To fully recover, she’d need at least another six months, continuing with the current rehabilitation treatment plan.

As to whether she could dance again, it would depend on her recovery.

Vera held Wendy Donovan’s hand and said, "Even if I can’t dance, I’ll strengthen my left leg as my main support, I can do it."

Wendy Donovan, sensing her pressure, rested her forehead against Vera’s, "With your skills, you can do it, take it slowly."

...

A month later, in Ardendale, rain drizzled continuously.

Ian Kane’s case of intentional injury against Vera was tried in the Ardendale Intermediate Court.

The trial went on for several days, Ian Kane was sentenced to one year in prison for intentional injury and dangerous driving, a combination of several offenses.

Vera, the victim, didn’t appear at all under the pretense of "mobility difficulties."

A few days later, Attorney Rivers from Ian Kane’s side met with her.

At the rehabilitation center, Attorney Rivers laid out separate documents in front of her, "Miss Sheridan, these are the final versions of the property transfer agreements, detailing the comprehensive list, ownership transfer procedures, and process for the entire marital assets Mr. Ian Kane agreed to assign to you per the divorce agreement."

"After a month of urgent sorting, evaluation, and consolidation by our team, the value, status, and transfer routes of all assets are clear. Now, we just need your signature and subsequent cooperation in handling some transfer procedures, and these assets will fully and legally belong to you."

Vera, holding a ballpoint pen, decisively and neatly signed her name on the documents.

The next day, according to Finance news, the entire assets apportioned to her by Ian Kane for one year of their marriage amounted to billions.

...

Day after day passed, and rehabilitation and training became everything in Vera’s life.

Time flew, and two years passed in a blink.

...

Backstage at The National Grand Theater, the dressing room was dazzlingly bright.

Vera sat in front of the mirror as the makeup artist filled in her eyebrows.

A familiar yet somewhat unfamiliar face gradually appeared in the mirror.

The White Swan, Odette.

Vera subtly moved her ankle, tightly wrapped in pointe shoes.

The hard shoe shell compressed her foot, bringing a familiar dull pain, reminding her of her current reality.

Just then, the chatter of several young girls from the adjacent makeup area...

"Hey, look at the program list! That’s Vera in the third solo!"

"Isn’t it! She’s 28, isn’t she? Even after an injury like that, she can still perform a solo?"

"Well, she does have the backing of the second master of the Grant Family!"

"Whether she can marry into The Grant Family is uncertain. Heard they prefer Vivian Langdon, the premier dancer, who not only has good family background, but is a perfect match for The Grant Family. Even she didn’t get a solo tonight..."

Their voices weren’t too loud or too soft, just enough for Vera to hear.