CHAPTER 197: CHAPTER 197: ARE GOOD THINGS COMING SOON?

Noah also turned his face, his gaze directed at her.

Four eyes met, both faces carrying a subtle hint of a smile, silently gazing at each other.

Flashlights flickered around them continuously.

"Are you two about to announce some good news?" The reporters, sensing a response, immediately seized the opportunity.

Noah looked at Vera, with an almost undetectable anticipation in his eyes, his fingers tightened around hers.

Vera saw that he had no intention of clarifying, slightly lowered her eyelids, and took the first step up the stairs at the entrance of the police station.

Noah followed closely behind, his Adam’s apple moving silently.

The atmosphere between them was tinged with an indescribable awkwardness amidst the ambiguity.

Once inside the police station, his assistant approached Noah, asking to speak privately, "Second Master, we just received internal news; Vivian has put the blame on her assistant, Yara Paige."

"The assistant is taking the fall for everything."

Upon hearing this, Noah remained expressionless; it was as expected.

He tapped his trousers seam intermittently with his long fingers, then instructed quietly, "Investigate everything about this assistant’s background, find out what Vivian has over her, why she’s willing to take the blame."

His assistant replied, "Understood."

...

Grant Family Estate.

Old Madam Grant came back from the theater and did not return to her courtyard but went straight to the main residence to "have tea" with Rosalind.

"Rosalind, it’s true that while you may know someone’s face, you can never know their heart." The old madam sipped her tea and sighed, "That girl from the Langdon family seemed so dignified, such a glamorous little princess; who would’ve thought she would cruelly instigate someone to splash acid just to overshadow Vera!"

"Vera almost got disfigured! It’s terrifying to think about!"

Rosalind’s expression was somewhat unnatural, her fingers slightly tightened around the teacup.

The old madam’s words seemed casual, yet to Rosalind, each sentence felt like a slap, ridiculing her for being blind initially.

She felt like she was sitting on needles, forcing a smile.

Old Madam Grant noticed her discomfort and changed her tone, giving her an out: "Don’t blame yourself, even I, with all my old bones, couldn’t see her being so vile!"

Rosalind took the opportunity to ease up, her tone filled with hindsight and regret: "Mom, you’re right."

"After that internet scandal, I sensed this child was not genuine, she was two-faced, so I distanced myself. Who would have thought she’d go to such extremes over a competition spot."

"And Mrs. Langdon, you know, everyone praises her for being gracious and broad-minded. I originally thought the Langdon family’s upbringing was strict."

"Vivian is the most prominent of their younger generation, the one who can endure the most hardships; she is clearly a young lady but has been practicing ballet diligently since childhood..."

"It’s truly... beyond imagination."

Old Madam Grant put down her teacup, "That’s why, judging people sometimes we are too prejudiced; stereotypes are unacceptable."

"Like Vera, who, although her background is somewhat poor, has been ambitious since childhood, climbing step by step on her own merits, never giving up on herself; such tenacity is rare!"

Listening to the old madam’s words, Rosalind’s smile stiffened, her expression darkening.

She just knew that the old madam would take the chance to bring up Vera, with the intention of persuading her to accept.

Rosalind was just pondering how to respond when the sound of an entertainment news broadcast from the living room TV interrupted—

"Ballet goddess Vera Sheridan and Solstice Group CEO Noah Grant appeared at the police station, holding hands publicly, displaying intimacy, sparking rumors of a romance!"

Rosalind’s hand shook; the teacup nearly fell onto the coffee table, making a loud clatter, and the splashed tea left a dark stain on the glossy surface.

They actually disregarded her dignity and announced directly to the media!

However, the journalist on the TV continued:

"Yet when faced with our reporter’s inquiry, neither made a direct comment on their relationship; their attitudes remained ambiguous, leaving a huge suspense..."

Hearing this, Rosalind’s tense nerves finally relaxed a bit.

Still, her face remained unsightly.

Not admitted? Then what was this pulling and tugging meant to signify!

Trying to cover up!

Old Madam Grant held the remote, rewound the footage, squinting through bifocals to examine closely, "Noah, this lad, hurriedly grabbing Vera’s hand in public, as though afraid she’d run away."

Rosalind looked up, indeed noticing her son’s initiative and firm grip of Vera’s hand on screen, her face alternating between red and white.

Old Madam Grant picked up the teapot, intending to refill Rosalind’s tea, to which Rosalind quickly took over the teapot, offering a calm smile, "Mom, let me."

The old madam retracted her hand accordingly, speaking slowly:

"I truly admire Vera, a person who has been through false allegations and experienced a failed marriage, yet she stood up! She fought her way back onto the stage with her own ability, rendering the domestic best, Vivian, powerless!"

Rosalind gracefully refilled the old madam’s tea, recalling Vera’s performance video from today, her expression becoming complex.

Old Madam Grant lifted her tea, "Vera’s determination and capability cannot be bought with family status."

"She could have taken a shortcut by marrying Noah two years ago... but she simply refused."

The old madam’s seemingly casual remark felt like a slap to Rosalind’s face, flashing back to that chirping summer afternoon two years ago in the courtyard; her suppression of Vera.

"My old bones are now eagerly hoping Vera wins the championship, bringing glory to our country!" The old madam stood up, massaging her old waist from sitting too long while proudly laughing, moving towards the door.

Rosalind forced a smile, hurriedly standing up to support her, escorting her back to the secondary courtyard.

...

When Vera returned to her apartment, her assistant had already procured all the ingredients and neatly arranged them on the countertop.

She kicked off her shoes, her bare feet on the soft carpet, looking at the array of food, she exclaimed, "Finally, I can feast!"

The selection process was over; she could indulge briefly.

Tonight, Maeve and Owen would also come to celebrate.

In the hallway, Noah followed her inside, his face expressionless. He bent down to pick up her shoes that were scattered around, placing them orderly on the shoe rack.

The man removed his suit jacket, hung it on the rack, then took off his tie, his wristwatch, and walked silently to the kitchen, rolling up his shirt sleeves, washing his hands, and began preparing food.

His movements were fluid, yet more silent than usual.

Vera went to the bathroom, twisted her long hair into a bun, wore a disposable shower cap, and returned to the kitchen, put on an apron, and turned her back to Noah, "Mr. CEO, can you help me tie this?"

"It’s been a while since I’ve cooked."

Lucky kept rubbing against their pant legs at their feet.

Noah turned around, pinched her fair neck, his deep voice almost commanding, "Go rest, don’t make trouble, I’ll do it."

Vera frowned, "Why, don’t you trust my cooking skills?"

Noah remained silent, continuing to chop vegetables.

She looked down at the chubby orange tabby at her feet, "Lucky, your dad doesn’t believe in my cooking skills."

Lucky meowed twice, as if in agreement.

Noah lowered his head, gently moving Lucky’s plump body aside with his foot, his tone carrying a hint of sarcasm, "Who’s your dad? Don’t call recklessly; your mom doesn’t even acknowledge me."