Chapter 8
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"Who? Who would dare harm my father?"
I gently removed his hands. "That's for you to discover. Mrs. Grant can help stabilize the situation, but she can't solve all your problems."
Ethan stood frozen, staring at me for a long moment.
"Iris, can I really trust you?"
At Mr. Grant's funeral, the city's elite gathered at the cemetery—a sea of black attire.
I stood beside Ethan, accepting condolences from everyone.
"My condolences." A familiar voice cut through the murmurs.
I looked up and met Jade's triumphant gaze.
She clung coquettishly to a bald man of about fifty—the chairman of Horizon Group, Grant Corporation's arch-rival.
"Porter." Ethan had clearly recognized them, his greeting ice-cold.
Wesley Porter patted his shoulder with fake sincerity.
"Old Grant's passing was so sudden. Young man, you must take care of yourself. If you need any help..." He smiled coldly. "Just ask."
Jade looked at me with undisguised contempt. "Miss Sullivan, it's been a while."
"Mrs. Porter," I corrected her. "I heard you married President Porter last month. Congratulations."
Ethan's fist clenched at his side. I shot him a warning glance.
"President Porter has excellent taste," I smiled at Wesley Porter. "Your new wife is certainly... unique."
Wesley Porter laughed heartily. "Mrs. Grant is too kind. Jade is pure and innocent. I treasure her deeply."
I nearly laughed out loud. Apparently, Jade's acting skills worked equally well on older men.
After the funeral, Ethan paced furiously in the study.
"How dare she bring Wesley Porter to my father's funeral! The nerve of that woman!"
I handed him a glass of whiskey. "Calm down. This is clearly a calculated provocation."
Ethan threw his head back and drained the glass in one gulp.
"Porter has always wanted to take over Grant Corp. Now with Jade feeding him information, he's more dangerous than ever."
"Insider?" I raised an eyebrow. "You're giving her too much credit. Porter married her just to twist the knife."
"Porter doesn't give a damn about her. He's just enjoying watching you squirm."
Just then, the butler knocked and entered.
"Sir, Madam, the police are here. They say it's urgent."
Ethan and I exchanged glances, both sensing trouble.
"Mr. Grant, we received a tip suggesting your father didn't die of natural causes—he was poisoned. This is a search warrant. We need to search the premises thoroughly."
