CHAPTER 22: CHAPTER 22: LET ME SEE YOUR INJURY, ELEANOR WINSLOW, BE GOOD

Finally, Charles Rhodes thought of a possible topic to ease the tension—

"President Grant, previously the Kyodan Auction House sent an invitation to the auction. The auction is tomorrow night."

"No time." Adrian Grant refused without a second thought.

Charles Rhodes: "One of the auction items is something that belonged to your wife’s mother."

Adrian Grant had an excellent memory and immediately recalled the jade bead necklace he heard about at the Winslow Family villa.

He changed his mind at once: "Go."

-

The Kyodan Auction House held the event in a mansion.

Outside the porch, luxury cars arrived incessantly, and the air was thick with the scent of perfume and the sight of beautiful silhouettes. ’Lavish’ was the most commonplace adjective here.

Eleanor Winslow wore a crescent white couture gown, the ruby ring on her finger setting off her fair skin. Although she wasn’t particularly tall, her striking proportions and exquisite face drew attention as soon as she stepped out of the car.

Eleanor Winslow clearly felt the surrounding area quiet down, and people glanced at her and Blake Lockwood while whispering amongst themselves.

Eleanor was used to such attention; as a child, it was because she was pretty, excelled in her studies, and was talented, making her well-liked by everyone.

As for now—

Several socialites approached with smiles, though there was clearly malice behind them.

"Eleanor, are you here alone? How come Young Master Grant isn’t with you?"

"Oh Vivian, don’t rub salt in the wound!"

"If one dares to act, they surely don’t fear the gossip, right?"

They taunted Eleanor, line after line.

"No company? Why? Am I not human? I’d say I look more human than any of you," Blake Lockwood rolled her eyes.

Blake Lockwood was a beauty known for her vibrant and charming looks. Although she wasn’t unique, she was the most striking among those with a similar style.

Someone once joked that the friendship standard between Eleanor and Blake was solely based on looks—the two most beautiful heiresses in Aethelgard high society happened to be best friends.

The women were so infuriated by Blake’s sarcastic remarks that their noses bent out of shape.

A chic short-haired woman was the first to respond: "Oh! I was wondering who this was! Turns out to be the eldest daughter-in-law of the Hawthorne family!"

She paused and then asked, "I just wonder, since Young Master Hawthorne hasn’t been home for so long, does he even remember what his wife looks like?"

Eleanor glanced concernedly at Blake, who patted Eleanor’s hand, signaling she was fine.

Eleanor looked coldly across, "Vivian Quinn, do your parents know you’re still in love with Trevor Hawthorne?"

"W-who said I love Trevor Hawthorne?!" Vivian Quinn was flustered.

A year ago, Blake Lockwood married Trevor Hawthorne. On the eve of the wedding, Vivian Quinn bribed a hotel staff member, boldly stripped, and entered Trevor’s hotel suite, only to be caught red-handed by Blake and the Hawthorne family relatives, making a fool of herself.

"Oh, I see you’re just like Mia Winslow!" Blake recalled Vivian’s affection for her husband.

"Blake Lockwood, watch your filthy mouth! Everyone knows Adrian Grant doesn’t like Eleanor! I thought you had some decency, but since you don’t, let’s lay it all out!" Vivian Quinn sneered.

She pointed at Eleanor: "Eleanor! You shamelessly crawled into Adrian Grant’s bed the moment you turned eighteen! And Blake Lockwood, your mom pressured Trevor, or he wouldn’t have looked twice at someone as spoiled as you!"

Vivian Quinn’s voice was loud and shrill, as if afraid the people around wouldn’t hear.

Blake Lockwood was the only daughter of the Lockwood family. A year and a half ago, Mr. Lockwood died in an accident, and Mrs. Lockwood, overwhelmed by grief, succumbed to depression. The Lockwood Family’s wealth was substantial, and Mrs. Lockwood feared unscrupulous relatives would prey on Blake as an orphan, so on her deathbed, she approached Trevor Hawthorne. Afterward, Trevor suddenly proposed to the previously unrelated Blake, and the two quickly registered their marriage.

The dreams of the Lockwood Family’s relatives to get rich were shattered, and Trevor, a dream lover in the eyes of many heiresses, became another’s husband, making Blake a target.

The outside world speculated that Mrs. Lockwood forced the marriage, but in reality, she gave the Lockwood Family’s European business line as Blake’s dowry to aid Trevor’s position within the Hawthorne Family.

It was a matter of mutual benefits and consent, owing nothing to anyone.

Eleanor and Blake exchanged glances, realizing they were more concerned for each other rather than themselves, and suddenly shared a silent smile.

Blake waved at the auction manager searching for someone in the distance, and he quickly came over.

She pointed at Vivian Quinn: "Miss Quinn’s mental state is unstable, best not to let her inside."

Before Vivian could react, the manager had already begun escorting her out.

"Why? I have an invitation!" Vivian Quinn protested loudly.

The manager smiled, "Miss Lockwood is our major shareholder, and we naturally listen to a major shareholder."

The crowd then remembered that Mr. Lockwood, a renowned collector, had given Blake Lockwood the shares of the Kyodan Auction House as an adult gift, and Blake herself had incredible talent and keen insight, gaining fame in the collection circle at a young age.

Blake Lockwood was never the kind of woman to be left without wings simply because she lost her parents!

Eleanor and Blake arrived late, and soon after, guests began to take their seats.

"Didn’t the Winslow Family promise to redeem your mom’s belonging? You didn’t actually have to come personally," Blake Lockwood wasn’t interested in the auction, finding the items inferior to her own collection.

She was purely accompanying Eleanor.

"I don’t trust their words, I feel comfortable only by seeing it myself—"

Eleanor’s voice faltered, her gaze shifting.

Not far away, Mia Winslow was similarly dressed in a crescent white couture gown, speaking with a man beside her.

The man was facing away from Eleanor, tall with long legs, a suit encasing his broad shoulders and narrow waist, exuding elegance.

The man was conversing with a nearby middle-aged man, but upon hearing Mia’s voice, turned toward her.

Eleanor saw the man’s face.

It was Adrian Grant.

Almost simultaneously, his gaze bypassed Mia and landed on her.

Their eyes met, Eleanor’s initially startled expression turned cold.

Without thinking, Adrian walked toward Eleanor.

Mia unhesitatingly quickened her pace, keeping up with Adrian, as if they had arrived together.

Adrian’s eyes first landed on Eleanor’s right wrist and left forearm, wrapped in white gauze, with another layer of shimmering silk on the outside, resembling an accessory. With Eleanor’s crescent white dress tonight, it was almost unnoticeable.

"Let me take a look."

Adrian spoke, reaching for Eleanor’s forearm.

Instinctively, Eleanor stepped back, only for Blake to step forward half a step, blocking in front of Eleanor.

"What’s Young Master Grant doing? Admiring his handiwork?" Blake’s words were biting with sarcasm.

Adrian clenched his molars, his expression unchanging, maintaining the façade of the graceful and composed Young Master Grant.

His voice calm: "Mrs. Grant, do you think hiding behind Blake Lockwood is going to help?"

Adrian Grant was someone who upheld propriety on the surface but was never one to follow conventional rules; otherwise, when Eleanor, in a drunken state, came to him, he wouldn’t have chosen to spend the night with her.

Eleanor couldn’t predict what he would do next.

The surrounding had unknowingly quieted, as guests turned their attention this way.

Eleanor took a deep breath, slightly stepping out from behind, and coldly regarded him for a few seconds, then glanced at Mia, meaningfully saying, "I thought you came here with my sister."

Everyone was eager to see this scoundrel’s true colors!

"No." Adrian denied, reaching his hand out again, "Let me see the wound, Eleanor, be good."

The word ’be good’ seemed filled with helplessness and affection, as if speaking to a small child throwing a tantrum.