His name was Yvette Sterling, and he had been hanging around Ethan Grant since college, so of course Serena Sullivan knew him!
She hung up the call first, wanting to correct Yvette Sterling’s form of address, and caught a glimpse of Zoe Quinn’s expression, smiling slightly.
"Brother Yvette, it’s been a long time."
Yvette Sterling smiled and went over to wheel Serena Sullivan to the car, "We’re returning to The Grant Family too, let’s go together."
Before Serena Sullivan could refuse, Yvette Sterling was already coming up, pushing her wheelchair to the other side of the car’s back seat.
"Sedans aren’t as comfortable as business cars, but please, Madam, make do."
Yvette Sterling said as he opened the car door. He was about to bend down to lift Serena Sullivan inside when the dense smell of smoke from inside the car made him cough. Looking up, he saw Ethan Grant on the back seat, staring forward with a gloomy face, clutching a cigarette viciously.
Yvette Sterling felt helpless; Mr. Grant, acting aloof was one thing, but if he didn’t lift her up, was he supposed to push the entire wheelchair into the car?
Yvette Sterling thought of a solution, pressing a button that made the seat next to Ethan Grant lower, leaving just enough space to fit Serena Sullivan’s wheelchair.
Serena Sullivan watched the changes inside the car, puzzled, as Yvette Sterling pushed her inside.
Outside Sullivan Family’s door, Zoe Quinn watched Serena Sullivan being wheeled into Ethan Grant’s car by Yvette Sterling, rushing to its side, and when she saw the smoking man through the window, her eyes reddened, and tears started to fall as she prepared to say something while crying.
She had just called out when the car started, quickly driving away from Sullivan Family, making Zoe Quinn cry even harder in frustration as she stood there, stamping her feet in anger.
Serena Sullivan hadn’t been in the car for long when Ethan Grant finished his cigarette, and with the car windows open, the smoke smell quickly dissipated.
She and he had once been the most familiar people to each other, and now they were nominally husband and wife. Sitting together, Serena Sullivan could only feel thoroughly uncomfortable.
Luckily, there were a driver and Yvette Sterling in the front; if it was just her and Ethan Grant, her face would freeze into a smile out of awkwardness.
Suddenly, a rustling sound came from beside her, and Serena Sullivan turned her head curiously to look.
Sunlight streamed in through the partially open window, illuminating the man’s face. Already handsome, his face now had a layer of glow, impossible to look away from.
Below, his fair, slender fingers, under the beam of light, appeared hazy, intricate like a piece of art, exceptionally beautiful.
No, none of this was the main point.
The point was, his fingers were unbuttoning his shirt one by one, elegantly, exposing his tanned chest and abs clearly into Serena Sullivan’s view.
She was all too familiar with how he looked.
Four years ago, the scenes between him and her that were not suitable for children flashed quickly into Serena Sullivan’s mind along with the skin beneath his shirt, making her cheeks flush red and quickly turning her head to look out the window.
On the glass of the car window, however, reflected Ethan Grant’s shirtless torso.
Serena Sullivan’s cheeks burned as her breath caught, almost suffocating her; she could only lower her head, pretending to play with her phone, terrified he’d realize she saw what she shouldn’t have.
She had provoked Ethan Grant so boldly last night, but now her heart was in chaos.
The cold disdainful tone sounded as Ethan Grant tossed his clean old shirt to Yvette Sterling, then changed into a new one, the buttoning speed even slower than unbuttoning.
In just a few minutes, the car was eerily silent, so quiet that Serena Sullivan felt like she was sitting on pins and needles, wanting to jump out of the car and leave.
Fortunately, a message from Anna Morgan popped up on the phone, and Serena Sullivan hurriedly replied to her message. Read complete versıon only at NoveI-Fire.ɴet