Mr. CEO, You Look Strangely Familiar

A lot of men are chauvinists. It’s fine for them to sleep around, but their wives absolutely cannot cheat. A wife’s infidelity gives them a profound sense of failure.

Not only that, but many men claim they don’t care if their wife was a virgin, when in reality, they care a great deal.

Don’t just say that’s how the world is now, because it isn’t. When it comes to marriage, the greatest respect a woman can give a man is her chastity. Even if the man has had several ex-girlfriends, most men who marry want to spend the rest of their lives with that woman—provided he actually loves her.

Women who don’t respect themselves fantasize about sneaking the forbidden fruit with their young boyfriends. Ninety percent of the time, a woman won’t marry the first man she sleeps with.

Jean Grant was the perfect example. While dating Marlon Marshall, she believed he loved her, so she gave him her virginity and was even prepared to marry him over it.

In reality, Marlon Marshall had never loved her.

This is the tragedy of being a woman.

Love can forgive anything. The person who loves you most wouldn’t bear to hurt you by finding other women.

Unfortunately, Jean Grant’s taste in men never improved. She always thought she could change a man, especially after being together for a few years. But she never stopped to think: why, after all these years, even after getting married, did Nicholas Ainsworth still have other women?

It wasn’t just because he’d found out about her and Marlon Marshall at the hotel.

It was because she believed that with a little more time, she could pull him completely to her side.

And wasn’t her current predicament exactly what she had hoped for?

She trusted her eyes, but not her brain.

"Didn’t we agree not to bring up the hotel incident again?"

Nicholas Ainsworth replied flatly, "I was just making a casual comparison."

"So what else are you comparing in your head?"

Nicholas said as he took off his clothes, "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Many things. Most importantly, Jean, was the sex better with Marlon Marshall, or is it better with me? Is his tool bigger, or is mine?"

Nicholas Ainsworth had been wanting to ask such a blunt question for a long time.

"You..." Jean Grant choked, not knowing what to say.

She gulped down the brown sugar water, closed her eyes, and refused to answer the question.

"Go on, say it."

"Aren’t you being ridiculous?" Jean Grant turned over, her back to him.

Nicholas Ainsworth’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything more.

Lying beside her, he was silent for a moment before saying, "Has my dad gotten addicted to chatting with people online lately? I heard him talking when I came back just now."

Seeing that he had changed the subject, Jean said, "I saw him chatting around seven or eight, and he’s still not done?"

"He can talk that much?"

"He’s talking to a woman. I could hear her voice."

Nicholas Ainsworth grunted in acknowledgment, then turned off the light to sleep.

A few days passed like this, and Jean Grant’s period finally ended.

Jean Grant went to the hospital again.

The attending OB-GYN ran various tests on her and finally said, "You’ve had a few abortions, haven’t you?"

Wearing a surgical mask, Jean Grant nodded.

"I thought so. Otherwise, your uterus wouldn’t be this thin. An endometrial lining this thin can’t support the implantation of a fertilized egg. It’s like soil. You need fertile ground to grow a good seedling. If the ground is poor, how can the seedling grow?"

Hearing this, Jean’s heart plunged into an icy abyss. "Doctor, is there anything that can be done? I want to have a child."

The doctor sighed. "I’ve met too many girls like you. You keep getting abortions, ruining your body. And what’s the result? You can’t get pregnant, so the man goes and finds another woman. They don’t lose anything. What were you thinking back then?"

"Doctor, I’m begging you. Can I still get pregnant?"

The doctor spoke gravely, "It’s hard to say. However, we can try estrogen injections. Estrogen can promote the proliferation of the uterine lining, but the side effects are significant. It increases the risk of endometriosis and uterine tumors. You need to consider it carefully."

Jean Grant nodded. "Let’s do it now."

"Alright."

Leaving the hospital, Jean Grant was in a terrible mood.

She felt like a massive cloud was hanging over her head.

Dark and oppressive, it crushed her until she could barely breathe.

「Back at the Grant Residence.」

Seeing her pale face, Mrs. Grant immediately asked, "What happened?"

"Mom." Jean Grant sat down and suddenly burst into tears. "I might never be able to get pregnant again."

Hearing this, Mrs. Grant said urgently, "What exactly is going on? Tell me."

Jean Grant told her mother everything, word for word.

When Mrs. Grant heard this, she was so furious she slapped Jean Grant on the head. "You... You’re infuriating! Don’t you know a woman can’t just get abortions willy-nilly? The first one was because you were divorcing Marlon Marshall, but even if you had given birth to the next two, it would have been better than aborting them!"

"But I didn’t want to be saddled with two burdens, especially not Marlon’s children!"

"Then why were you so dead set on marrying him in the first place!" Mrs. Grant couldn’t stand to even talk about it. "Jean, you brought this on yourself. You can’t blame anyone! Now that it’s come to this, don’t waste time on blame. Just figure out a way to get pregnant! And you absolutely cannot tell Nicholas about this. He’s the only heir to the Ainsworth Family. If they find out they married someone who can’t have children, all hell will break loose!"

Jean Grant naturally understood this.

"I know."

"Then what are you standing around for? Do what the doctor said. Don’t give up even if there’s only a sliver of hope."

Jean Grant wiped the tears from her face. "I’m heading back now."

"Go on."

Mrs. Grant sat there, feeling that fate was truly cruel.

Jean Grant returned to the Ainsworth Residence.

She found a young, beautiful, unfamiliar woman sitting in the living room.

’She had a bad feeling. Could her husband have brought her home?’

"Who are you?"

Catherine Callahan smiled. "My surname is Callahan. You can just call me Miss Callahan."

Jean Grant snorted in disgust. "Miss Callahan? Did you time-travel from the Three Kingdoms era? What an awful name. I only know one other person with that surname."

Catherine Callahan’s hands tightened into fists. "Is that so?"

A moment later, both Nicholas and Sharon Ainsworth returned. Jean Grant was confused. ’Is something big about to happen?’

Nicholas warned her, "Shut your mouth and don’t say a word."

Mr. Ainsworth came down from upstairs, beaming. "Let me make an introduction. This is Miss Callahan. She’s my girlfriend."

Jean Grant felt her world spinning into chaos. "Father-in-law, you’re over fifty and you have a girlfriend?"

"What, am I supposed to live out the rest of my days alone just because I’m in my fifties?"

Nicholas Ainsworth nodded. "Dad’s right. I agree."

Sharon Ainsworth was skeptical. "Dad, you’re an old man. She’s so young. If she’s not with you for your money, what else could it be?"

Mr. Ainsworth didn’t think of himself as an old man; he still felt handsome and vigorous. "So you’re saying a man my age can’t find true love?"

Sharon’s mouth twitched. "No, it’s just... I think she’s about my age. She could be your daughter. If you found someone in her fifties, I wouldn’t object."

Nicholas cut in, "Alright, if Dad wants this, then that’s that. I’m putting my foot down. From now on, nobody says another word against it!"

Jean Grant went straight upstairs. Seeing this, Sharon went upstairs too.

Nicholas glanced at Catherine Callahan, gave her a look, and went upstairs himself.

"Don’t you feel you’re disrespecting your dead mother?"

Nicholas sat there, sipping his red wine, unconcerned. "The dead are dead. The living have to move on. Don’t use the dead to trap the living."

Jean Grant gave a dry laugh. "You’re certainly open-minded about it. Since you, her son, approve, then I have nothing more to say."

"Good."

Looking at him, Jean Grant suddenly asked tentatively, "Nicholas, what if... what if I can’t ever get pregnant?"

"It’s not like you’re barren. How could you *never* get pregnant?"

"I’m saying, what if."

"You know I’m the only son in the Ainsworth Family, right?"

She nodded.

"Then I’d have no choice but to marry another woman who can have children."

Hearing these words from him directly, Jean Grant felt nothing could be crueler.

It was exactly as her mother had said.

Men will be men. Carrying on the family line is what matters most.

"Then... I’d better work hard on it. Get pregnant soon and give you a son."

Hearing this, Nicholas Ainsworth nodded. "Focusing your mind on getting pregnant is the right thing to do."

Jean Grant walked to the bathroom, closed the door, and leaned against it, her body sliding down. No matter how foolish she had been, she finally understood. This man, no matter how nicely he spoke, still saw her as trash to be thrown away when it suited him.

At that moment, everything swirled in her mind like a roller coaster, rising and falling, playing out scene by scene before her eyes.

A terrifying reality took shape before her. He wanted her to get involved with the Grant Group, and even if she succeeded and the company fell into his hands, she still wouldn’t escape being abandoned. The only reason she was still in this house...

...was because she had the backing of a powerful family.

’It’s not scary to be naive or stupid. What’s scary is to remain oblivious until you die.’

"What are you doing in there for so long?"

"Stomachache. Had to take a crap." Jean Grant stood up, turned on the faucet, and splashed her face with water. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes, now wide with realization, were bloodshot.

’A man who can abandon you at any time is no lover. Only your family is your ultimate safe harbor. Just how clouded had my mind been all this time, to even think of helping a man who would discard me to destroy the very family that supported me?’

Opening the door, she smoothed her hair and walked toward the exit.

Nicholas saw her pale expression. "Where are you going?"

"Just out for a walk."

With that, Jean Grant opened the door and went downstairs.

Stepping out of the Ainsworth Residence, she tilted her head back. What she saw was not a dark cloud, but brilliant, boundless sunlight.