Chapter190 Running into Harrison
Clifton’s brow furrowed deeply at those words.
He rejected the idea without a second thought. "That's impossible."
Mr. Prescott slammed his hand on the desk. His wrinkled face was full of rage. "She leaves the moment you come home. She’s home when you’re at the office."
"That is not how a wife should act!"
"Besides! You’ve been married for months, and she isn't pregnant! What use is a woman who can’t provide an heir and whose heart isn't with this family?"
"The fact that she isn't pregnant has nothing to do with her," Clifton said coldly. "I’m the one who doesn't want it."
"You don't want it?" Mr. Prescott narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? Are you saying you haven't even slept together?"
Clifton didn't answer directly. Instead, he looked up. For the first time, his dark eyes showed sharp, undisguised mockery.
"Grandpa, what exactly am I to you?"
Clifton’s voice was hoarse with suppressed anger. "Am I just a tool to carry on the bloodline? A breeding machine?"
"Your suffocating control drove my parents away years ago. Now you want to take it all out on me?"
"When I have a child and who I have it with is my business! I don't need you to arrange my breeding!"
"You...!!"
Mr. Prescott trembled with rage. His face turned a deep, angry red.
He suddenly clutched his chest, gasping for air as if he were about to faint.
"You... are you trying to kill me?!"
In the past, Clifton might have been worried or compromised.
But now, looking at the old man, he knew it was an act.
"Do you need me to call the family doctor?"
His voice was terrifyingly calm. "He’s in the side wing. He can be here in two minutes."
Mr. Prescott’s heavy breathing hitched for a moment. He saw the coldness in his grandson’s eyes.
He knew this trick wouldn't work anymore.
The old man took a deep breath and moved his hand away from his chest. He sat up straight and snorted. "I’m not dying yet! Save your fake concern!"
Since the emotional play didn't work, he switched to force.
Mr. Prescott’s gaze turned sharp.
"Clifton, I don't care what you think."
He held up one finger, his tone cold and final. "One year."
"I’m giving you exactly one year. Within that year, I want to see a Prescott heir born. I don't care if it’s Miranda’s or someone else’s. I only care about the result."
"If there is no child in a year, I won't hesitate to step in and find you a wife who is obedient and fertile."
Clifton looked at the stubborn old man. He felt a deep sense of exhaustion.
A sarcastic smirk touched his lips. He didn't bother to argue anymore.
"Then you are welcome to try."
With that, Clifton turned his wheelchair and headed for the door without looking back.
The door slammed shut with a loud bang.
Silence returned to the study.
Mr. Prescott watched his grandson leave. His back, which he had kept straight and strong, suddenly slumped.
He stared at the closed door, a complex look in his eyes.
Clifton’s legs were already ruined. If there was no child, no heir with Prescott blood, who would inherit this massive empire?
His cloudy eyes blinked. He wondered for a split second if he was wrong.
But a moment later, he pushed the thought away.
No. The Prescott family had a century of honor. It couldn't end with him. There had to be an heir.
At 2:00 PM, at a seaside resort.
The air here smelled of freedom and salt.
Miranda and Castillo had just finished sunbathing. Their skin glowed with a faint, sun-kissed tan.
Castillo pushed open the door to a restaurant. "This is the most famous place around here! The chef’s Beef Wellington and seafood platters are legendary!"
Hearing his exaggerated tone, Miranda laughed. "Then I’ll let you order an extra dessert later. I won't tell your fitness coach."
Her smile was bright, and her eyes sparkled like stars. Even the afternoon sun seemed to dim in comparison to her beauty.
However, before she could pull back her smile, a deep, familiar male voice interrupted.
"Miranda?"
Miranda’s back stiffened.
She slowly turned around.
Harrison was standing by a table near the window.
He wore a perfectly tailored deep-blue suit. His tie was flawless. He looked noble and cold, completely out of place at a casual beach resort.
His assistant stood behind him, holding a briefcase and looking surprised.
Seeing Harrison here explained a few things for Miranda.
She had wondered why he hadn't come to cause trouble yet. She had ruined Ariana online and dragged Dominic into the mess. Given Harrison’s "deep love" for Ariana, it was strange that he hadn't reacted.
It turned out he was away on business.
Meeting him here was truly bad luck.
Miranda ignored him. She took Castillo’s arm and turned to walk toward another table.
Harrison stood there. He felt a sharp, strange ache in his chest.
Miranda was wearing a wine-red halter dress with an open back.
As she walked, the slit in her dress revealed her long, shapely legs. Every step she took was full of grace.
He realized he hadn't seen her look this radiant in a long time.
His body moved faster than his brain. He took two quick steps and blocked their path.
Miranda was forced to stop. She frowned, her eyes filled with undisguised annoyance. "Is there something you want?"
Her distant tone made Harrison’s chest feel tight and heavy.
Castillo didn't hold back either. He stepped in front of Miranda. "We aren't friends. Please move."
Harrison didn't even look at Castillo. His eyes were fixed on Miranda’s beautiful face.
"Since we ran into each other, can we have lunch together?"
Miranda found the request hilarious.
When they were married, she had begged him to come home for a meal, and he never would. Now that they were divorced, he was chasing her down for a lunch date.
How ironic.
"No thanks."
Miranda took a half-step back to create distance.
Harrison didn't expect her to reject him so bluntly. The bitterness in his heart grew stronger. He instinctively reached out to stop her from leaving.
Just then, a waiter carrying a tray rushed past them. He seemed to lose his footing on the slick floor.
"Watch out!"
The waiter cried out and stumbled directly toward Harrison.
Harrison was knocked off balance. He tried to steady himself, but his body leaned toward Miranda.
Acting on instinct, Harrison reached out and grabbed Miranda’s bare arm.
Miranda felt a sudden grip. Before she could react, she was pulled off balance by Harrison.
The distance between them vanished instantly.
From a certain angle, it looked like Harrison was pulling Miranda into a half-embrace. Neither of them moved as they "gazed" into each other's eyes in public. It looked incredibly intimate.
Harrison caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with the sea breeze.
In that moment, his breath hitched.
He even felt a sudden impulse to never let go.
"Let go!"
Miranda snapped back to reality. As if she had been burned, she shoved his hand away. She stepped back several feet with a look of pure disgust, immediately checking her arm for red marks.
Everything that had just happened was captured by a camera.
In a quiet cafe across the street, the curtains of a second-floor private room were drawn tight. Only a tiny gap remained.
A long, black telephoto lens was hidden there.
The sound of the shutter fired rapidly in the silent room.
In burst mode, every single second of the "intimate" moment was captured in crystal-clear detail.