The question was sharp and incredibly insidious. It was tantamount to pointing a finger in Ethan Grant's face and asking, 'Are you using your power to force your fourth wife to stay with you, just to break the curse of being a 'wife jinx'?'
The reporters present were all media veterans, so they naturally understood the implications. But the more provocative the question, the bigger the headlines. They were willing to risk offending the richest man in the country for a story.
Reporters hoisted their cameras, snapping photos nonstop, afraid of missing a single detail. Even a slight frown from Ethan Grant could be spun into a headline like, "President Grant Refuses to Let Go."
"Did his first three wives all drop dead or something?" A hint of displeasure crossed Shirley Thorne's stunning face. She had a classic baby face, so her on-the-verge-of-anger expression didn't come off as domineering. Instead, it gave her a pouting, pitiable charm. "My husband is so rich, he could take great care of me even if he broke both his legs, right? Darling!"
Shirley Thorne shot Ethan Grant a look, raising her eyebrows smugly as if to say, 'See how well I handled that? I made perfect sense!'
Besides, she genuinely believed it. It wasn't a death sentence. With the Grant Family's fortune, she'd be set for life!
Of course, Ethan Grant wasn't about to undermine her. He gave a slow nod. "Mm-hm."
It was the first time he'd heard her call him anything other than "Mr. Grant," and a strange feeling stirred within him.
He knew the only reason she'd called him 'Darling' was to protect his reputation. But even with a heart of stone, Ethan Grant had to appreciate Shirley Thorne's thoughtfulness.
At that thought, he reached out, his expression softening as he wrapped an arm around her slender waist. "Of course. You're my love. Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it hand in hand."
Ethan Grant's hand was a little cold, and Shirley Thorne was wearing something rather form-fitting. The cool touch made her shiver involuntarily.
Ethan Grant seemed to sense her discomfort. A flicker of displeasure crossed his mind, and he tightened his grip on her.
Shirley Thorne felt her entire body tense up. Holding her by the waist just felt... far too intimate.
'Hey, buddy, have you forgotten we're a fake couple!?'
The reporters, of course, were oblivious to Shirley Thorne's inner turmoil. In their eyes, the two were putting on a brazen display of public affection!
It seemed the richest man was genuinely fond of his fourth wife!
"The two of you seem so close," the weasel-faced reporter suddenly said, his tone less a compliment and more a sneer, as if he were waiting for a good show.
Shirley Thorne ignored the discomfort at her waist, her peripheral vision fixed on the reporter. Her intuition screamed that something was fishy.
The reporter, unaware that Shirley Thorne was watching him, wore a mocking smirk. He tilted his head back slightly, looking upward as if in anticipation.
A sudden, ominous premonition washed over Shirley Thorne. A faint CREAKING sound reached her ears, like a mouse gnawing on something.
'This is bad!'
Her body reacted faster than her brain. Shirley Thorne shoved Ethan Grant away and leaped aside.
The instant she leaped away, the overhead light fixture crashed to the floor, sending shards of glass flying everywhere.
The force of her push sent Ethan Grant stumbling. As his bodyguards rushed forward to act as human cushions, he roared, "What are you gawking at? Go see if my wife is alright!"
'It would be fine if she was unhurt. But if something had happened to her, his reputation as a 'wife jinx' would likely be impossible to shake off for the rest of his life.'
Before the bodyguards could rush over, Shirley Thorne yelled, "I'm fine! I'm not hurt at all! Just clean up this glass!"
She scrambled up from the floor, straightened up, and looked at where the light had fallen. She could vaguely see a cut mark on the chain, as if it had been done on purpose.
'This was a setup to cement Ethan Grant's reputation as a 'wife jinx'!'