Leo Graham's face was ashen. His palms were sweating, and he looked thoroughly humiliated as he demanded, "Miss Thorne, even if you are the richest man's wife, you can't just make things up."
It had been so long; he refused to believe Shirley Thorne would remember. And even if she did, she would never admit to having been a caregiver in the past.
Shirley Thorne deliberately linked her arm with Ethan Grant's and said coquettishly, "Darling, I'm not lying. It was my birthday that day, and because of those two, I didn't even have time to buy a cake."
Something stirred in Ethan Grant's heart. He still wasn't quite used to being addressed so intimately, especially since Shirley Thorne seemed to have mastered the art of acting cute all on her own.
Of course, he still had to play his part.
"Mm," Ethan Grant replied.
A moment later, he added, "There's a date. It'll be easy to check."
Leo Graham flinched, inwardly cursing his luck. 'Most people might forget a random date, but everyone remembers their own birthday.'
If this got out, Josephine Grant might be easy to fool, but the Grant Family would never let him off the hook.
Josephine Grant's face twisted in anger.
'If they investigate this, how could I ever show my face online as an advice blogger again?!'
For a moment, Josephine Grant's gaze toward Shirley Thorne was pure poison. She looked like she wanted to lunge forward and tear her to shreds.
Sweat beaded on Leo Graham's forehead. He grabbed Josephine Grant's wrist and forcibly dragged her away from the scene.
He wasn't a member of the Grant Family; he didn't dare to go head-to-head with Ethan Grant.
With only the two of them left at the door, Shirley Thorne released his arm and said proudly, "So, Mr. Grant, how am I at making enemies?"
Ethan Grant nodded slowly. "Not bad."
Shirley Thorne smiled, her eyes curving into crescents.
Ha ha ha! 'Praised by the richest man himself! I really am the best!'
Having vanquished Josephine Grant, Shirley Thorne linked her arm through Ethan Grant's and formally stepped through the main gates of the Grant estate, her head held high.
Inside the main house of the mansion, a massive crowd of people was gathered.
The old master sat in the very center, dressed in a red traditional jacket. He looked full of spirit—a kind and refined gentleman.
He said, "Ethan is here!"
The moment Ethan Grant appeared in the main hall, the old master had eyes for no one else, gazing fondly at the grandson who was the greatest pride of his life.
"Good boy. You've been working too hard lately; you've lost weight."
Ethan Grant held the old man's hand, a rare gentleness in his eyes. "I'm fine," he said.
Surprise flashed in Shirley Thorne's eyes. 'So the great tycoon has a gentle side after all.'
The others of Ethan Grant's generation witnessed the old man's blatant favoritism. Their reactions were a full spectrum of human emotion—envy, disdain, and bitter jealousy—all on display.
Shirley Thorne saw Josephine Grant roll her eyes. Next to her was Susan Langley, who was leaning against a man who bore a strong resemblance to Ethan Grant.
'That must be Ethan's biological father, Warren Grant?'
When Susan Langley saw Ethan Grant approach, her face soured. She was clearly still fuming about being roughly dragged away by the bodyguards earlier.
Meanwhile, it was as if Warren Grant didn't even see his son. He simply turned his head to speak with Josephine Grant, his eyes filled with doting affection.
As Josephine spoke, she shot a smug glance toward Ethan Grant, only to find he hadn't even noticed the tender father-daughter moment in the corner. He was completely focused on speaking with the old man.
She couldn't help but feel a pang of irritation.
She stepped forward and suddenly exclaimed, "I'm so jealous of you, Ethan! Grandpa, you're too biased. When I walked in, I don't recall you fussing over me like this!"
Josephine Grant put on a cutesy, innocent act, which, combined with her plastic-surgery face, was incredibly jarring.
At least, Shirley Thorne found it hard to watch.
The old man chuckled. "How am I biased? Josephine is a good girl, too. Come, sit here by Grandpa!"
Josephine Grant immediately sat down beside the old man with a sweet smile and said, "Grandpa, the Peony Painting I'm giving you this time was reserved from an international auction house. It cost several hundred thousand! You're not allowed to give it to anyone else; you have to keep it for yourself!"
"Oh? It's that precious?" The old man was pleasantly surprised. "Grandpa will treasure it!"
Josephine Grant beamed.
Shirley Thorne was disdainful. 'A painting worth a few hundred thousand? I could paint that. In my past life, my art was even featured in textbooks!'
Warren Grant's face was full of doting pride. "The money isn't the point," he said proudly. "Items from international auction sites are priceless. You can't just buy them; it all comes down to connections."
His daughter was, as always, the best.
Susan Langley, sharing in the glory, smiled and said, "That's right. Josephine put a lot of effort into commissioning the Painter."
'Even though she was the one who spent most of the effort and used her own connections, as long as Warren was happy, she felt it was all worth it.'
Upon hearing this, the crowd burst into praise, exclaiming how capable Josephine Grant was.
The more praise she received, the higher Josephine Grant held her head, like a proud peacock.
Leo Graham stood to the side, silent and speechless, his heart filled with contempt for Susan Langley.
'I've never seen such a stupid woman. It's one thing to do all the work just for someone else to take the credit, but to do it for her husband's mistress's daughter?'
But then he remembered that the stupider Susan Langley was, the more it benefited him, and Leo Graham couldn't help but break into a happy smile.
Shirley Thorne was rendered speechless. 'Forget Warren Grant, but what on earth is Susan Langley so proud of? That's her rival's daughter!'
Ethan Grant remained silent the entire time, simply helping the old man with his tea and completely ignoring a certain someone's showing off.
Suddenly, he heard Josephine Grant turn and speak to him.
"Ethan, what's that your bodyguard is holding? Is it a gift? You're Grandpa's favorite grandson, so your gift must be much more precious than mine!"
As soon as she spoke, everyone's eyes focused on the rectangular, wrapped frame in the bodyguard's hands, as if trying to see the painting inside through the packaging.
The old man looked toward the gift as well, his eyes full of anticipation.
Josephine Grant lowered her head and sneered. 'I refuse to believe Ethan is resourceful enough to conjure something out of thin air.'