Gideon Thorne broke out in a cold sweat. He subconsciously looked to Shirley Thorne for help, but instead of the sister who had always doted on him, he found only a few burly bodyguards.
One of the bodyguards said, "Mr. Thorne, it's getting late. Please."
And then, he was thrown out.
With the matter resolved, Shirley Thorne felt refreshed and invigorated.
She trotted over to Ethan Grant's side, full of genuine admiration. "Mr. Grant, the way you tossed that card just now was incredibly cool!"
Ethan Grant glanced at her. He didn't respond to her compliment, asking instead with a hint of confusion, "Aren't you and your brother very close?"
His actions just now could hardly be considered respectful.
As soon as he said that, Shirley Thorne's expression darkened. She shook her head and said, "I'm not, we're not, don't be ridiculous."
It was a swift, three-part denial.
Ethan Grant scoffed. 'So the woman has some sense after all,' he thought. 'She knows Gideon Thorne is no good.'
"Let's go to the press conference."
Ethan Grant strode toward the door on his long legs.
Shirley Thorne quickly trotted after him.
「That evening, at the press conference.」
As usual, Ethan Grant was dressed in a black suit. But this was different from the standard business attire he'd worn for negotiations that morning. This one was more like a modified tailcoat—tapered at the waist and draping over the hips, it perfectly accentuated his V-tapered physique. His every movement exuded elegance.
To complement Ethan Grant, Shirley Thorne wore a red mermaid-style gown. With fiery red lips and a smile as radiant as a flower, her long hair was styled in perfect, wave-like curls that cascaded casually around her neck, giving her an air that was both gentle and sophisticated.
Black and red—a timeless classic.
When the couple made their entrance and the lights hit them, the crowd was instantly captivated.
Looking at the perfect couple, then thinking of their own beer-bellied husbands or sallow-faced wives, everyone in the audience couldn't help but seethe with jealousy. Life was so unfair!
Standing close together with their arms linked, they openly and gracefully announced their marriage.
"Mr. Grant, do you and Mrs. Grant have any plans for children?"
"Mrs. Grant, look over here!"
The flashing lights were dizzying, and Shirley Thorne could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was incredibly nervous.
Fortunately, none of the reporters seemed to be looking for trouble. Their questions and comments were all standard and conventional, with no unexpected twists.
But just as Shirley Thorne began to relax, a reporter suddenly piped up, "Excuse me, Mrs. Grant, but have you heard the rumors about President Grant being a so-called 'wife-killer'?"
The moment the question was asked, the temperature in the hall seemed to drop several degrees. Shirley Thorne glanced uneasily at Ethan Grant beside her.
She saw that his expression was completely impassive—no sorrow, no joy, no anger. He merely shot the self-righteous clown a look of pure, scornful disdain.
For him, this sort of petty provocation was routine. He didn't expect Shirley Thorne to have a perfect response, so he discreetly gestured for a bodyguard to remove the reporter.
"Mrs. Grant, please answer the question." The reporter's gaunt face was filled with undisguised glee, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips.
The bodyguard behind them was about to move, but to everyone's surprise, Shirley Thorne parted her red lips. Her voice was calm and unhurried. "Sir, do you believe in fate?"
The reporter was taken aback and instinctively asked, "What do you mean?"
"I do," Shirley Thorne said, tightening her grip on Ethan Grant's arm and leaning affectionately against his shoulder. "I had my fortune told. The psychic said I was born into a life of wealth and fortune, that I'm not one to die easily. Someone with a fate as tough as mine needs a 'wife-killer.' We're a perfect match."
With that, she turned to Ethan Grant and gave him a blissfully sweet smile.
'Trying to mess with my hundred million? Dream on!'
Reflected in Ethan Grant's eyes was Shirley Thorne's sweet smile, and for a moment, he seemed a bit dazed.
The other reporters, oblivious to the underlying currents, were simply overwhelmed with a mix of envy and saccharine sweetness. Their cameras flashed nonstop.
The weasel-faced reporter was thwarted, and a flash of resentment crossed his features. His sixth sense told him this fourth wife was not going to be a pushover.
So, he turned the microphone on Ethan Grant. "Mr. Grant, your affection for your wife is truly moving," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But if Miss Thorne, like your three previous wives, is plagued by one disaster after another after getting married... will you let her go?"