usatvline Chapter 281 - 279: Silas Grant Makes a Will
Chapter 281 - 279: Silas Grant Makes a Will
Mia Grant wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but whenever Silas Grant was near, she always slept a little better than usual.
Maybe it was the sense of security, maybe it was the force of habit, or maybe... she was just tired.
At seven in the morning, Silas Grant was already up.
After coming out of the bathroom, he picked up his jacket, which was hanging to one side.
Fastening the buttons on his suit jacket, he turned and walked quietly toward the bed.
Mia Grant was still asleep.
She liked to curl up on her side when she slept. Sometimes, worried it was bad for her spine, he would deliberately straighten her out as he held her to sleep. But the moment he let go, she would revert to her old ways.
Like a little snowball, with half her face buried in the soft comforter.
His buttons fastened, Silas Grant leaned over and gently pulled down the edge of the comforter that was covering her mouth and nose.
She was sleeping soundly, showing no signs of waking.
Silas Grant sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at her for a long time.
Their few hours of intimacy felt like a dream, so fragile it seemed it would shatter at the slightest touch.
’I want to take her with me so badly.’
He was perfectly capable of ensuring she slept peacefully the whole journey, only to wake up and find herself in Portia.
’Unfortunately... I can’t follow my heart.’
He never liked being forced to choose. In the past, he was used to having it all.
There was never a need to pick one or the other—he would simply take both.
But now, he was being forced to choose.
Instead of destroying what he couldn’t have, he now hoped that the one he had to leave behind could grow up well.
A smile touched Silas Grant’s lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. His movements were gentle and slow, full of a tender longing.
Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
Despite his overwhelming reluctance to leave, it was time for him to go.
He could only hope their next meeting wouldn’t be too far away, that the wait wouldn’t be too agonizing.
—
By the time Mia Grant woke up, Silas Grant had been gone for a long time.
It had snowed all night, and the sky today was a dreary gray, leaving the room somewhat dim. The nightlight on the headboard, however, was still on.
Glancing around, Mia Grant saw that his overcoat was gone from the rack, and she understood.
For a fleeting moment, a strange feeling stirred in her heart.
But she quickly pushed it down.
She pulled the covers up higher, curled into a ball, and dozed for a little while longer. She only got out of bed to wash up after the last remnants of sleep had faded.
When she came out of the bathroom and looked for her phone, she noticed what Silas Grant had left on the bedside table.
It was a red gift box, wrapped several times with a silk ribbon and topped with a bow. For some reason, she knew at a glance that Silas Grant had tied the bow himself.
He tied his bows differently than she did.
The night she’d left the basement with him, he had taken her to see a doctor.
He had brought her a pair of sneakers, but she had been crying so hard at the time that she hadn’t noticed.
After waiting a moment, he had given a resigned smile, crouching down to help her put them on.
She realized what was happening too late. The tall man was already kneeling before her, taking the ends of the laces to tie her shoes.
His fingers were long with well-defined knuckles. The white laces wound around his fingertips as he worked, his movements slow and deliberate. Even the simple act of tying a shoelace was incredibly elegant, a beautiful sight to behold.
She forgot to cry. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. He’d been drinking, and his eyes were like deep, bottomless pools. He looked at her with a mix of resignation and pity, as if looking at a mischievous child. "All cried out?"
"..."
In that moment, his gaze sent a tremor through her heart.
She had been crying out of fear, out of the sheer shock of having survived, and, of course, as part of her act.
She was playing the part of the weak, hoping to win his protection.
But now, she felt as if she were standing naked before him, all her dark little schemes laid bare by his gaze.
Her long lashes fluttered. She didn’t know what to say.
Across from her, Silas Grant had already risen to his feet.
He wiped his hands with a handkerchief, then held out a hand to her. "Do you need me to carry you?"
"I..."
She couldn’t read his intentions and didn’t dare make a reckless move.
She even thought, ’I’ve already escaped the basement. Maybe I should just give up on getting close to Silas Grant.’
’Let’s just stop here.’
’He’s on a completely different level, his presence too overwhelming. When I’m with him, my weakness isn’t just an act—most of the time, I’m genuinely terrified.’
’He’s always smiling, but sometimes it doesn’t feel kind at all. Instead, he seems more like a psychopathic killer from a movie.’
She said she could walk on her own.
But when she tried to stand, she barely took two steps before her legs, weak and aching, gave out.
She hadn’t eaten in a long time, and she’d used up what little energy she had left on crying.
Her knees were scraped raw from kneeling on the ground for so long.
Although she managed to keep from making a sound, she couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face.
From behind her came the man’s sigh, its intention unclear.
A moment later, an arm tightened around her waist, and she was lifted from behind.
He was in excellent shape and lifted her as effortlessly as if she were a kitten. Just like the night before, she sat in the crook of his arm with his jacket draped over her. Her small face was gray with dust, making her look like a sullied doll.
All the way out, as he carried her, she was torn by inner conflict.
Thinking back now, maybe Silas Grant had known all along that she was partly acting, but had chosen not to call her out on it.
In other words, she wasn’t solely responsible for the situation they were in now.
He had indulged her; he had immersed himself in the charade as well.
Pressing her lips together, Mia Grant didn’t rush to open the gift. Instead, she picked up the card tucked beneath it.
She unfolded it, revealing his familiar handwriting.
He wrote that it was a New Year’s gift and wished her a Happy New Year.
Mia Grant set the card aside and shook the box, but heard nothing.
The box was long, rectangular, and rather flat.
’Is it an article of clothing?’
She guessed it might be a dress.
’Just in time for the New Year.’
With that in mind, she carefully undid the bow, then neatly rolled up the ribbon to save it.
The lid was on tight. Mia Grant had to work it back and forth a few times before the box itself dropped away.
It landed on the bedside table with a soft THUD.
She looked down and saw that it contained several documents...
"A trust... fund?" Mia Grant froze.
Ten minutes later, her hands trembling, Mia Grant called Silas Grant’s number.
Silas Grant was in a board meeting and didn’t have his phone, so a junior assistant answered.
"Hello, Miss Grant. Mr. Grant is in a very important meeting right now, but he will call you back later. He instructed me to be sure to answer and take a message if you called."
"If it’s an urgent matter, I can try to assist you."
Mia Grant blinked. "It’s not urgent. I’ll call back later."
"Very well. Goodbye, Miss Grant."
After hanging up, Mia Grant thought for a moment, then sent a message to Yates Donovan on WeChat.
He replied with a single question mark.
Mia Grant took a photo of the document’s cover and sent it to him.
A few minutes later, Yates Donovan sent back a minute-long voice message.
"Damn, Silas Grant really is something else. You’re set for life—you can just kick back and relax. But wait, is he writing his will or something? Talk about generous. I wonder how long he’s been planning this. Has he left? Is he still with you? That old bastard... he really doesn’t give a damn if I, his number one, live or die, does he?"