Tears broke the dam, falling in large drops.
She bit her lower lip fiercely, sobbing softly, not allowing herself to cry out loud.
"It’s nothing, it’s just that I feel Harrison Grant was good to me, but I never expected that there was another motive."
She made up an excuse, but it wasn’t completely untrue.
Harrison Grant was indeed nice to her, even though she knew it was because her father had given his heart to Harrison Grant.
But her father’s death is now full of doubts, it’s hard not to suspect that it was because Harrison Grant wanted the heart.
So where exactly is that heart, on Harrison Grant or Summer Monroe?
If it was really Harrison Grant who did it, then what about James Grant?
She couldn’t bring herself to be with the son of her father’s murderer.
These things were unknown to James Grant.
He believed her excuse, dispelling the hostility between his brows, trying to soften, raising his hand to caress her face, the pad of his finger gently rubbing, wiping away her tears.
"It’s okay, I won’t lie to you."
His eyes were sincere, showing no trace of deceit.
Every word he spoke was like a little hammer, gently hammering into her heart, engraving it.
A burning sensation ignited, making it impossible for her not to believe.
James Grant got up and sat on the edge of the bed, then lay down beside her.
He even pulled the blanket, as if coaxing a child to sleep, carefully, bit by bit, tucking it on either side of her body.
Evelyn Clayton remained stiff, not moving, until he turned away, she choked and spoke.
"James, do you regret it?"
He turned back, looking at her, "Regret what?"
She was silent, pursing her lips, turning away, with her back to him.
Her palms clenched tightly in the covers, her fingertips digging into her palm.
Regret knowing her, regret entangling with her...
If it’s really found out that Harrison Grant is the killer of her father, then what should she do?
And what would James Grant do?
No one said anything more.
Their bodies were very close, but there was no longer the heat and desire of the past, just silent.
The room was quiet and soundless, they slept with their backs to each other, exposing their fatal vulnerabilities to one another.
Evelyn Clayton did not close her eyes, her gaze empty and silent.
She stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to slowly overtake her, the person beside her, silent with his back to her.
When Evelyn Clayton woke up, the place beside her was already cold.
A large emptiness filled her heart, as if the person who shared a pillow with her last night had never existed.
She got up and dressed, just as she opened the door, she saw James Grant’s enchanting face.
After a night’s rest, he looked particularly refreshed, the ease in his eyes could not be concealed, leaning against the doorframe, looking down at her with a low laugh.
Evelyn’s gaze passed over him, only to see a bowl of goji berry porridge already placed on the dining table, a warmth unknowingly rising in her heart.
It turned out he got up early to make porridge for her.
Feeling much better, Evelyn took a breath and lifted her chin, "Alright."
She bypassed him, walked to the dining table, sat down, took a spoon and tasted a bite, it wasn’t bad.
James Grant wore just a thin shirt, making his well-shaped physique and evident muscles faintly visible under the shirt.
"Didn’t touch you last night, so you look good today, not a word of thanks?"
He raised the corner of his eye for credit, his elbow propped on the table, watching her eat porridge.
Evelyn glanced at his perpetually annoying face, pouted in exasperation, "Are you very free? Not going to work?"
James Grant looked down at his watch, already late.