Chapter 171 Under Currents
The night was like a piece of ink-soaked velvet, pressing down heavily on every corner of the Grant family villa.
The cold white light in the study offered no warmth, falling straight onto the documents on the mahogany desk, making even the words on the paper seem bone-chillingly cold.
Arthur slammed his phone face-down on the desk, his knuckles turning pale from the force.
The investigation report he'd just received was still displayed in the center of the screen, that line of text he'd enlarged repeatedly.
"Virtual number login records, terminal linked to Sophie's assistant Nina's phone, timestamps match key moments of the three incidents at the kindergarten, amusement park, and grocery store."
Each time he looked at those words, his heart sank a little deeper.
Five years. Five years of marriage with Sophie.
He wasn't blind to the calculation in her eyes.
She always smiled with gentle grace, every gesture embodying the refinement of a well-bred lady, but beneath that refinement, what kind of thoughts were hidden—he wasn't completely unaware.
It's just that over the past five years, after Aria left, there was an empty space in his heart, so he let that gentle shell wrap around him, ignoring the clues hidden in the details.
Until Aria came back with Jasper, and Jasper encountered one "accident" after another—those details he'd deliberately ignored suddenly came together like scattered puzzle pieces, forming a clear picture.
His fingertip hovered over the call button, suspended over that unfamiliar number linked to the virtual account.
The warmth from his fingertip passed through the screen, but couldn't carry even a trace of warmth across.
He wanted to make the call immediately, have his people follow the trail and dig out every trace Sophie had hidden.
But just as his finger was about to press down, Aria's reddened eyes flashed through his mind, along with that fragile yet stubborn look she had when holding Jasper.
He couldn't rush this.
Sophie understood people too well, and knew how to weigh her options even better.
Once he tipped her off, she'd definitely panic and hurt Aria and Jasper in more hidden ways.
He was the head of the Grant family, Jasper's father—he couldn't let his guilt and urgency become obstacles to protecting his wife and child.
Arthur stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, his fingertip tracing across the cold glass.
The street below was quiet, with only a few streetlights still on, like dim yellow eyes gazing into the distance.
He could imagine what Aria looked like right now.
She must be frowning, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing Jasper's clothes, exhaustion hidden in her eyes, yet refusing to show any weakness.
He knew she was suspicious, could even guess who she suspected. But he couldn't tell her, at least not now.
He picked up the agarwood teacup from the desk, and only when his fingertip touched the cool surface of the cup did he slowly suppress the turmoil in his heart.
Five years ago he lost her; five years later he couldn't let her and Jasper fall into danger again.
This net—he had to weave it airtight. Once Sophie showed her hand, once he had solid evidence, he would personally eliminate everyone who had hurt her.
His phone vibrated in his palm. It was a message from Lance: [I found a virtual number, shows it's Nina Roberts. Is this Sophie's former assistant?]Arthur tapped his fingers on the desk and replied, [Yes, I've already got people watching Nina. She won't cause any trouble.]
[I hope you can keep your word. I won't keep this from Aria for long.]
Lance's message made his position clear.
Arthur frowned but eventually replied with an okay.
The send confirmation popped up. He set his phone aside and sat back down at the desk.
The milk on the desk was still there, brought by Sophie last night. He hadn't touched it.
His fingertip traced along the milk glass, recalling how she looked standing at the study door last night—every frame impeccably gentle.
If this were five years ago, he definitely wouldn't have suspected her.
Ha.
He suddenly found it laughable.
Five years—was she always like this, or did these five years change her?
Whatever the answer was, he suddenly didn't want to dig deeper.
Outside the window, the wind swept up the clouds, completely swallowing the moonlight. The study light remained cold and white, reflecting the gradually fading warmth in the man's eyes, leaving only cold determination.
This night was destined to be sleepless.
The next day.
At ten in the morning, sunlight streamed through the flower shop's glass window, spreading warm yellow patches of light on the floor.
The fresh scent of lisianthus mixed with the smell of soil, slowly dispersing in the air. Aria crouched by the flower rack, scissors in hand, trimming the dead leaves from the stems.
Cold water slid down between her fingers, but she didn't notice.
Her fingertips had turned light pink from prolonged contact with cold water, but her mind wasn't on trimming flowers at all.
Last night in bed, she'd lain with her eyes open until dawn, her mind repeatedly flashing back to Sophie.
The doorbell rang once, the crisp sound particularly jarring in the quiet flower shop.
Aria snapped back to reality, put down the scissors, and looked out through the glass door.
Arthur stood at the entrance, his posture straight as a pine tree, though his dark gray suit had caught some morning dew, and his brow carried an unresolvable heaviness.
His gaze fell straight on her through the glass, that look too complex, like hiding a surging tide, yet forcibly suppressed beneath his eyes.
Aria's heartbeat skipped a beat, the water on her fingertips dripping onto the floor, spreading into a small wet mark.
She didn't stand up, just quietly looked at him, neither opening the door nor speaking.
Arthur seemed to have expected this. He didn't step forward to knock, but instead took out a white medical kit from his briefcase and placed it on the doormat.
The kit was brand new, with a children's use label printed on it. He raised his hand and gently tapped the glass door, his voice low and clear, "Aria."
That single "Aria" was called out too softly, yet too heavily, like a fine thorn piercing her eardrum.
Aria slowly stood up, her skirt sweeping past the flower rack and knocking off a lisianthus petal.
She walked to the door but didn't immediately pull it open. Instead, through the door panel, her voice calm as still water, she said, "Does Mr. Grant need something?"
"Mr. Grant"—the distance she deliberately created.
The events of recent days had caused Aria's attitude toward him to take a sharp turn. She wouldn't even say his name, leaving only this cold "Mr. Grant."
Arthur's form stiffened outside the door, his Adam's apple bobbing as he suppressed the bitterness rising in his heart.
He knew she blamed him.
He said in a low voice, "Medicine for Jasper's allergies. I prepared a new batch—recommended by a pediatric specialist, more suitable for children's skin than what the hospital had.
I'm investigating both the kindergarten incident and the amusement park incident. When the results come out, I'll tell you."
He paused, then added, "I won't come in. I'll just leave these at the door for you to take in for the child."
He knew Aria probably didn't want to see him right now. Without being able to give her an explanation, he had no face to go in, honestly.
That was clearly his child, yet he couldn't quickly give him an explanation...