CHAPTER 207: CHAPTER 207: CLEARING THINGS UP

The door to the private room opened just as expected.

Silas Ford’s pleasantries mingled with the melodious sound of the guqin, drowning out Vera’s voice.

She turned towards the sound.

Silas Ford, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and exuding a suave demeanor, was already beside them.

Noah Grant introduced him, "Silas Ford, one of the major shareholders of Solstice Group." He obviously hadn’t heard her whisper earlier.

Vera gathered her thoughts and greeted with a smile, "President Ford."

She knew this man was the commercial leader of The Ford Family in the city, and a partner of Noah Grant in overseas capital markets.

Silas Ford laughed, "Calling me President Ford is too formal. Just call me Ford."

"Ford," Vera followed suit smoothly.

Noah Grant held her close and turned his body to match Silas Ford’s gaze, revealing Fabian Payne standing elegantly by the wall lamp, one hand holding Buddha Beads and the other a cigarette.

"The third master has arrived!" Silas Ford called out loudly.

Fabian Payne extinguished the cigarette in the trash bin and walked over slowly.

Noah Grant tightened his grip slightly and introduced Vera, "Fabian Payne, also a major shareholder of Solstice."

"President Payne," Vera nodded.

She had heard Mrs. Payne mention that the Payne Family’s third master was the only one involved in business, managing the entire family’s financial power.

Fabian Payne nodded slightly, "Miss Sheridan."

His demeanor remained cold and distant, unlike the affable Silas Ford.

Vera returned his greeting with a smile.

The group then entered the most luxurious private room at The Elysian Club.

At the corner, Nina Sullivan stared at Vera held closely by Noah Grant, her lips forming a complex curve.

Previously, she was pursued tirelessly by Ian Kane, who attended to her every need. Now, even after a divorce, she could still receive Noah Grant’s exclusive affection, surrounded and admired by these elites.

Both born into unfavorable circumstances, both exceptionally talented ballet dancers, yet Nina Sullivan’s fate was worlds apart.

Nina Sullivan took a sharp drag of her cigarette, a tear of laughter escaping her eye.

She swayed her hips, turned, and returned to the private room to mingle with the guests.

In her ears echoed a distant and clear woman’s voice: "Nina Sullivan, as long as you stay true to your original intentions, and persist, you can become the top ballet dancer and change your own and your family’s destiny!"

That was Ms. Sheridan’s voice indeed.

Inside the room, the guqin master was playing "High Mountain and Flowing Water."

This was the piece Noah Grant had specifically chosen for Vera, though ballet was a Western art, Vera had extensive knowledge of traditional opera as well.

Vera listened to the music, but her gaze was somewhat lost.

She subconsciously picked up the communal chopsticks, reaching for the plate of cheese-baked small green lobsters.

Noah Grant leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing her ear, "Sweetheart, you can’t have this dish as your foot injury hasn’t healed."

Vera returned to her senses, paused for a moment, and gently put down the chopsticks.

"How about some old duck soup?" He had ordered many non-reactive dishes for her tonight.

Vera shook her head lightly, "No need."

"Not feeling well?" Noah Grant raised his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature.

Seeing this, Silas Ford and Vincent Morgan exchanged glances, discreetly aware.

Previously, they had never seen this man be so attentive and caring to anyone.

However, this ballet goddess was truly stunning.

She possessed a rare beauty of breathtaking elegance without any vulgarity.

She exuded an untouchable aloofness and cool detachment.

Only Fabian Payne sipped his tea, detached from the situation.

Vera’s temperature was normal, and Noah Grant’s brow furrowed more deeply: it meant she had something on her mind.

As the dinner concluded, Noah Grant decisively declined Silas Ford’s invitation to stay for cards, "Vera is tired, we’re heading back. You all enjoy."

Vera managed a smile and nodded to everyone, "Pardon us."

...

Returning to the apartment, Vera bowed her head silently, changing her shoes. Unlike usual, she didn’t play with Lucky who had come to greet her but headed straight to the bedroom.

Noah Grant stared at her retreating back disappearing at the door, his heart sank, his brow furrowing.

Lucky rubbed against his pant legs, meowing as if complaining about the day’s scare.

At this moment, a faint burnt smell wafted into his nostrils.

Noah Grant followed the scent into the kitchen.

In the sink was a scorched yellow clay pot soaking, with a layer of gray-black charcoal floating on the water’s surface.

Clearly, it was caused by forgetting to turn off the heat.

His gaze sharpened.

Vera was always meticulous...

Noah Grant pondered for a moment, then rolled up his shirt sleeves to clean the sink, scrub the pot, and prepared a cup of warm electrolyte water, heading to the bedroom.

As he pushed the door open, he saw Vera curled up in the single-seater by the floor-to-ceiling window, hugging her knees, gazing lost at the neon outside.

He walked over and placed the glass on the low table.

The man knelt on one knee before her, chin slightly raised, voice deep and warm, "What’s going on?"

Vera’s heart tightened.

The man before her, cautious and full of concern, showed no signs of guilt.

She opened her mouth slightly, unsure what to say, and silently handed her phone to him after unlocking the screen.

She then turned her head, resting it on her knees.

Noah Grant’s gaze fell on the phone screen, the anonymous provocative text, and the photo of him supporting Claire, tying her shoelaces, capturing his eyes.

His jaw tightened, his eyes quickly filling with pain and anger.

He sat on the sofa, pulling her tightly into his arms. Vera instinctively struggled a bit but was held more firmly.

Noah Grant’s rough palm cradled her face, preventing any escape, turning it towards him.

He gazed at her, lips curving into a gentle smile, voice hoarse, "So, you’re upset because of this?"

Vera met his deep gaze silently, not speaking.

In the light, the beauty’s flawless oval face appeared calm and composed, yet her reddened eyes were evident, evoking sympathy.

Her past divorce case had been handled by him; he understood her experiences better than anyone. Two years ago, that same anonymous text aroused her as it does now.

A similar thing was happening again.

Noah Grant could imagine the torment she endured in the past ten hours.

The man’s fingertip gently caressed her cheek, his voice warm and tender, "Vera, this pregnant woman is Claire, Joel Quinn’s fiancée, my overseas partner."

Vera’s long eyelashes trembled, her originally stiff spine relaxing slightly.

Noah Grant continued, "Joel Quinn was on holiday, last time Julian Grant pressured me, I called him back to run a project, but during a signing trip, he had a car accident, suffered severe brain damage, still in a coma."

"Before you returned to Tristone, I flew to Bernheim last minute to handle this."

Vera’s chest heaved, eyelids lowered, still not speaking.

Noah Grant tightened his grip on her slender waist, "I brought Joel Quinn back to the country a few days ago, today visited Ms. Morgan and also him. Claire is three to four months pregnant, emotionally unstable, previously showing signs of miscarriage."

"Doctor says bending over to tie shoelaces is high-risk for her, I happened to be nearby."

The person in his arms visibly stiffened.

Noah Grant cradled her face, gaze locked on her, "Are you really bothered by this?"