CHAPTER 170: CHAPTER 170: THE ONLY SPOT

Island, blue sky, just the two of them.

He plants flowers for her, she accompanies him sea fishing, watching the sunset together;

At night, they sit in the courtyard watching the stars, listening to her tell childhood stories.

Just like two years ago, in The Glimmer Garden, that last bit of sweetness before the divorce.

Ian Kane closed his eyes, his chest heaving violently, the fine chain beneath the British-style brooch flashing rapidly, his Adam’s apple rolling with difficulty.

The fantasy was too beautiful, almost breaking through all his self-control.

In the next second, Vera Sheridan’s eyes full of disgust and her sharp "trash" pierced into his mind.

He suddenly awoke, a cold sweat running down his spine.

When he opened his eyes, all that was left was self-mockery.

"Justin."

"Let those words rot in your heart."

"Don’t mention it again."

The phone was decisively hung up, leaving only a busy signal in the receiver.

Meanwhile, at the entrance of Solstice Group.

Vera Sheridan walked out with an empty thermos, heading straight for the conspicuous parked car.

Wade Winslows stood erect, guarding by the car.

"Brother Winslow, home," Vera said blandly.

Wade nodded, promptly opened the car door for her, his sharp gaze sweeping over a black Jeep parked not far away, his eyes lingering momentarily on the car and its license plate, his body maintaining a state of readiness and alertness.

"What is it?" Vera keenly caught on to his alertness.

"That car," Wade lowered his voice, "has been parked for a while, the windows are tinted, can’t see inside, but the reflection earlier looked like someone observing the gate with a lens or binoculars."

Vera frowned.

Just then, the back door of the Jeep was suddenly pushed open.

A man stepped out of the car.

He was very tall, nearly six foot three, wearing a denim jacket with cargo pants and brown boots.

His closely cropped hair clung to his scalp, the surrounding bright lights illuminating his rugged tanned face, a metal gleam from an earring in his left ear.

A pair of sharp eyes fixed directly on Vera.

Vera remembered him; his name was Justin, Ian Kane’s man.

"Wade, let’s go."

Wade stepped to her side, blocking Justin, protecting her as she got into the car.

Justin, full of ruggedness, lifted his chin and whistled at Vera, "What, think we’re a plague? Can’t come near you?"

Vera acted as if she didn’t hear.

"He’s worried the Grant family will deal with you, sent me to follow you, and you — a woman — don’t even give a glance? He deserves to be treated like trash by you?!"

"Bang!" Vera closed the car door, shutting out Justin’s dissatisfied venting.

Wade turned around, pointing a finger warningly at Justin, eyes sharp as knives, then swiftly moved to the driver’s seat.

Justin kicked the Mercedes tire hard, cursing himself for being overly talkative, embarrassing Mr. Kane.

Mr. Kane is not a dog wagging its tail and begging this woman!

In the backseat, Vera closed her eyes, emotionless.

She no longer hated Ian Kane, even sincerely hoping he could let go of his obsession, find relief and redemption.

But she knew better than anyone that for that ’madman’, even the slightest response from her, even a glance, would be seen as hope, and he would continue to entangle.

She could not give him any illusion.

...

Noah Grant finished the meeting; it was already late at night.

He dialed an overseas call, reaching his overseas partner Joel Quinn.

"You’ll go to the negotiations in Norheim for me, leave tomorrow," Noah Grant straightforwardly instructed.

On the other end, there was the sound of waves; Joel Quinn chuckled ruefully, "Boss, I’m accompanying my wife for a maternity check-up while on vacation... All right, got it. It’s for your ballet goddess, right? Understood."

Joel easily guessed that his workaholic colleague must be giving up work for Vera Sheridan.

Noah Grant, "Thanks, I’ll make it up to you with two months’ vacation later."

"Great! Hanging up, got to coax her." Joel agreed readily, and the sound of waves in the background disappeared.

...

Three days later.

The atmosphere was extremely tense at The National Ballet competition site.

The stands were packed; besides the troupe members and industry judges, many supportive family members and seasoned ballet enthusiasts were present.

At this time, a small commotion in the middle section of the audience attracted more attention, as the ladies of the Grant and Langdon families from The Capital Circle, Rosalind Morgan and Mrs. Langdon, arrived together.

Both were in understated yet stylish outfits, elegant in demeanor, calmly taking their seats with the courteous guidance of the staff.

Seeing this scene, whispers spread around.

"Mrs. Grant and Mrs. Langdon coming together, isn’t it obvious they’re here to support Vivian Langdon?"

Just as the words fell, Vivian, having changed into her first-round competition outfit, walked lightly through the aisle to the two women.

"Aunt Grant, Mommy! You really came!" Her voice was bright, her tone intimate.

Rosalind grasped her hand, full of pride and affirmation, "Here to cheer you on! Although, this only spot surely belongs to our Vivian."

Vivian replied humbly yet obediently, "Aunt Grant, please don’t say that!"

She gently shook Rosalind’s hand, "There are many skilled sisters in the troupe, especially Sister Vera! Professor Donovan has high hopes for her!"

"I just do my best; can’t claim anything for certain. The final results will depend on the judges’ decision."

Hearing Vera’s name, Rosalind furrowed her brow slightly, then quickly glanced at Mrs. Langdon nearby, "This child is indeed humble."

As her words fell, she caught sight of a graceful, tall figure from the corner of her eye.

Rosalind found herself amazed and instinctively looked over...