CHAPTER 150: CHAPTER 150: "WOULD YOU MIND, MISS SHERIDAN?

Two years ago, on a cicada-filled afternoon.

The wooden door of the courtyard house was silently pushed open.

Rosalind walked in.

Her cream-colored suit was sharply tailored, and the pair of jade earrings on her earlobes gently swayed with her steps, casting cold green shadows in the hot air.

Her eyes calmly swept across the quiet courtyard, past the thin figure in the wheelchair under the grape trellis, and finally fixed on the hydrangeas in the corner.

The ginger cat resting by Vera’s leg was startled and jumped away.

Before Vera could speak, Rosalind said with a half-smile:

"This courtyard was left by Noah’s grandfather. It’s a quiet retreat amidst the chaos, suitable for recovery." Her gaze finally returned to Vera, slowly moving to her right ankle, "Especially suitable for... someone needing rest and recuperation."

Vera’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, the smile on her lips froze, and then she calmly spoke.

Rosalind interrupted her again:

"Noah has been soft-hearted since he was young, unable to bear seeing others suffer." Her tone was as flat as stating a fact, "Back then, when you were staying with the old lady, I could tell, he just... pitied you."

"Your mother hurt someone, died in prison, leaving you alone, forced to support yourself and your brother through ballet..."

The last trace of color drained from Vera’s face, her fingers secretly digging into the soft leather of the wheelchair.

She forced her lips into a smile, drawing a stiff arc, "Mrs. Grant, if you have something to say, just say it."

The air was stagnant.

Rosalind took a small step forward, her gaze firmly locking onto Vera, "Why did Noah go abroad back then?"

"It wasn’t because he misunderstood your rejection."

"It was he himself who gave up on you."

Vera was stunned.

Rosalind continued, "At that time, his father was in a critical period of his campaign, political opponents were watching closely. Your mother’s imprisonment was a ready-made blemish."

"Noah had to leave for his father’s political future, for the Grant family. He had to go far away, struggling alone overseas."

Vera’s nerves tightened.

Regarding this issue... Ian Kane had indeed mentioned it before, she’d believed it at the time, but later, with Noah Grant’s late confession and affection, she thought Ian was just manipulating her and creating a rift between them.

She never imagined that behind it, her mother’s issue was genuinely entangled in it all along.

Rosalind looked around the courtyard, her voice carrying a hint of heaviness:

"Miss Sheridan, over the years, Noah indeed used his own skills to carve out a world for himself, seemingly... breaking free from the Grant family’s shadow."

She took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "But the bond of blood and family is an indelible imprint in one’s bones and blood, an entanglement he can never truly sever, no matter how high he flies or how far he goes!"

"The Grant family, it’s an entity where all share weal and woe!"

"He will always be a son of the Grant family. The responsibility, the attachment, the unifying bloodline, is an imprint of shared honor and disgrace that he was born with and can never truly shed, no matter how hard he tries."

Rosalind’s final gaze fell upon Vera, cold and direct, "Do you understand?"

The implication was that Noah Grant could never break free from the Grant family for her, and she, with her irredeemable ’stain’, could never be truly accepted by this family.

...

Inside the car.

Nathan spun a string of well-polished Bodhi beads around his fingers, "Bro, Mom says you’re 32 now, and she’s been constantly picking out a wife for you lately."

"After much deliberation, she chose Vivian." He clicked his tongue against his palate, "Said it’s to suit your taste, a ballet dancer and The National Ballet’s leading lady, which is decently presentable. Oh, and she emphasized that the Langdon Family’s background matches our family quite well."

"She herself prefers the third Miss of the Everett family, who’s into scientific research and seems more reliable. Well, these are her words, said verbatim, and there’s no personal input from me!"

As the words settled, the atmosphere inside the car dropped.

Noah Grant remained silent, leaning against the broad seatback, a cigarette held between his fingers with most of it burned, the glowing ember flickering in the dim light.

The bluish-white smoke curled around, blurring his sharply defined profile, leaving only a taut jawline like a blade.

After a while, he finally spoke, "She specifically... chose a ballet dancer..."

He bit down on the cigarette, "I really have to thank her."

...

Late at night, Vera finished a set of rigorous stretching exercises, took an essential oil bath, and stepped out of the bathroom with a lace mask on.

Her jet-black hair was slightly damp, casually draped over her shoulders.

A dark green silk robe loosely tied at the waist, highlighted her skin’s cool whiteness, her posture relaxed yet upright.

She walked barefoot across the soft carpet towards the center of the living room, picked up her constantly vibrating phone, and moved to the large floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside, the dazzling lights of the Third Ring CBD in Beijing were all in sight.

"Miss Sheridan." On the other end of the call, her dedicated asset manager, Amy’s voice came through clearly, "The quarterly performance summary has been sent to your encrypted email, and I’m reporting the core data to you..."

"As of the end of the quarter, the overall investment portfolio achieved an absolute return of +8.7%, significantly outperforming the industry benchmark..."

Vera listened quietly, her fingertips gently tracing the cold glass.

The divorce assets from two years ago were not left idle, but were instead managed with a hefty investment in Amy’s team.

At the same time, she established an independently operated charity foundation focusing on arts education and animal protection; invested in her brother Owen’s architectural design studio and Maeve’s psychological counseling studio;

And some funds were placed in overseas trusts and global investments, operated by a top-notch team for stable and continuous growth.

After Amy finished her report, Vera opened the trending searches about herself. In the video, was exactly the stage she performed on tonight.

She was satisfied with her performance.

But... this was just the beginning.

...

At eight thirty in the morning.

After completing an hour of morning cardio, showering, applying light makeup, and having breakfast, Vera picked up her bag and left on time, heading towards The National Ballet.

As the elevator descended.

"Ding" sounded, opening on her floor.

Looking up, a familiar figure ran into view.

Noah Grant stood inside, wearing a crisp dark suit that accentuated his straight and neat shoulder lines.

He stood with one hand in his trouser pocket, his entire presence steady and restrained.

Vera smiled and stepped in, naturally standing beside him.

Under the light, she was enveloped in a soft silhouette, her posture upright.

"Morning, senior." Her voice was clear as she greeted him.

Noah turned his head, his gaze settling on her face, "Morning."

Vera’s gaze paused momentarily at his neck, arching her brow slightly, "It’s crooked."

She tilted her chin, pointing at his collar.

The man’s meticulously tied tie had its Windsor knot subtly askew to one side.

Noah leisurely turned his head to glance at the polished elevator mirror, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

"Oh?" His long fingers casually hooked the ends of his tie, symbolically adjusting it a bit.

After adjusting, his gaze returned to Vera, his deep eyes questioning.

Vera studied him seriously, "Still crooked."

Noah’s Adam’s apple moved slightly, a faint smile curving his lips, his voice husky, "Would you mind? Miss Sheridan."

Vera immediately understood, he did it on purpose.