Chapter 331: You Stole My Man
The four chefs acted as if they’d seen nothing, keeping their eyes straight ahead.
"Yes. Thank you for your hard work."
Quentin Blackwood walked in, and the chefs filed out together. It wasn’t until they were out the door that they stopped in bewilderment. ’Did President Blackwood just thank us for our hard work?’
’Is that something President Blackwood would say? That’s so strange!’
Quentin Blackwood carried Ivy Sherwood directly to the dining room and set her down on a chair.
The bowls and chopsticks were already set out. The aroma of the food wafting from the table was on par with any restaurant. In fact, each of the chefs was a master in their own right.
"So much good food." Ivy Sherwood looked at the table. ’There’s no way the two of us can finish all this!’
"Try some."
Ivy Sherwood picked up her chopsticks, selected a piece, and took a bite.
’It’s so delicious!’
Ivy Sherwood had been so hungry she’d gone past the point of feeling it, but now that she was eating, her stomach started to growl again.
Ivy Sherwood ate her meal while Quentin Blackwood remained as unhurried and methodical as ever. Soon, Ivy had eaten her fill and felt even less inclined to move.
Quentin Blackwood tidied up a bit, even tying on an apron to wash the dishes.
Ivy Sherwood rested her chin on her hands and watched him. ’I never expected Quentin Blackwood to have such a domestic side.’
’An apron over a suit... I must be the only one who’s ever seen Quentin Blackwood like this!’
Quentin Blackwood finished up quickly and walked over to her. "If you’re tired, go sleep in the bed. The bedroom is over there."
Only then did Ivy Sherwood take a proper look at Quentin Blackwood’s apartment. It was truly massive—a duplex, with the bedroom upstairs. The downstairs area was so spacious it gave her the illusion that property here must be free.
The gray and white color scheme made the place look cold and empty. It was cleaner and more monotonous than a model home, as if it were just for show and no one actually lived there. There was almost no sign of life.
"Do you usually live here?" Ivy Sherwood asked.
Quentin Blackwood said, "Not really. This is just a place to crash when I work too late. I’m on business trips most of the time. The place I normally live is much bigger than this."
Ivy Sherwood looked at him with pleading eyes. "President Blackwood, when are you going to bring down housing prices? You should spare a thought for us regular working folks."
Quentin Blackwood said, "I can consider it. That plot of land in Eastcroft—you set the price."
Ivy Sherwood already knew about the so-called Eastcroft of City S. Like Aethelgard, City S was one of the country’s financial centers, and land prices there were no lower than in Aethelgard.
"Never mind. I was just saying. If you lose money, don’t blame me."
"I won’t."
"Still, no thanks. When I get rich someday, I’ll buy my own land and give back to society!"
Ivy Sherwood didn’t want to move at all. She quickly washed up and then lay back down on the bed.
Quentin Blackwood washed up after her. By the time he got into bed, Ivy Sherwood was already asleep.
In a daze, Ivy Sherwood vaguely sensed movement beside her, and then she was pulled into an embrace.
Quentin Blackwood gently sniffed her scent. They had clearly used the same shampoo and body wash, but he could still detect another indescribable light fragrance on her that was very pleasant.
Ivy Sherwood had a good night’s sleep. The next morning, she woke up very early.
Quentin Blackwood’s internal clock was even earlier than hers; he was already awake at six. Ivy Sherwood wanted to get up with him, but Quentin Blackwood said, "You should rest a little longer."
"It’s fine, I can’t sleep anymore anyway." With that, Ivy Sherwood got out of bed with him.
Ivy Sherwood had another busy day ahead. She prepared a simple breakfast and was about to eat with Quentin Blackwood when his phone rang.
It was a call from the hospital. They said Old Master Sheridan’s condition didn’t seem good and had somehow taken a turn for the worse. They hoped Quentin Blackwood could come over.
"I understand." Quentin Blackwood hung up and looked at Ivy Sherwood.
"If it’s important, you should go. I have to head out after I finish eating anyway."
Quentin Blackwood said, "It’s about Old Master Sheridan. His condition has worsened a bit. He’s Joy Sheridan’s grandfather. Do you mind?"
"He’s Joy Sheridan’s grandfather, not Joy Sheridan herself. A life is on the line, you should go see him!"
"Do you want to come with me?" Quentin Blackwood looked at her.
Ivy Sherwood hadn’t expected Quentin Blackwood to invite her. "Would it be inappropriate for me to go?"
"There’s nothing inappropriate about it."
Ivy Sherwood readily agreed. "Okay!"
’Besides, Quentin was such a jealous man, always making an issue out of her and other men. She might as well go with him.’
Ivy Sherwood grabbed a sandwich, split it with Quentin Blackwood, and they ate a little something to tide them over.
It was still very early, but many people outside were already hurriedly starting their day.
Ivy Sherwood and Quentin Blackwood arrived at the hospital quickly. They went to the inpatient building together. At the door of the hospital room, Quentin Blackwood knocked, and the door was opened almost immediately.
They were greeted by Joy Sheridan’s smiling face. "Quentin, I knew you’d come! You..."
Her smile didn’t last two seconds before it froze on her face. Joy Sheridan saw Ivy Sherwood behind Quentin Blackwood, and rage instantly flooded her. "What are you doing here? Get out! You’re not welcome here!"
"I brought her," Quentin Blackwood said.
Then he asked, "How is Elder Sheridan?"
Joy Sheridan said, "Grandpa’s inside. Quentin, you should go see him."
Then Joy Sheridan blocked Ivy Sherwood. "You’re not allowed in. My grandfather doesn’t welcome you."
Out of courtesy, Ivy Sherwood had brought some fruit. She handed it to Quentin Blackwood and then said, "I wasn’t planning on going in."
Quentin Blackwood went inside, leaving Joy Sheridan and Ivy Sherwood at the door.
Joy Sheridan instinctively glanced at Ivy Sherwood’s wrist, but the morning was a bit cool, so Ivy was wearing long sleeves that covered the Buddha Beads.
"Ivy Sherwood, you vicious bitch! You came here on purpose to anger my grandfather to death, didn’t you!"
Ivy Sherwood looked at her. "I’ve never done anything to offend you, have I?"
She didn’t even know Joy Sheridan well; they had only met a few times.
"You stole my man! Quentin Blackwood is mine, and you know I like him! Ivy Sherwood, I used to be nice to you because you were my nephew’s wife. But you... you’re quite the cunning vixen, aren’t you? Just watch, I’ll peel the skin right off you today!"
Joy Sheridan glared at her viciously. If looks could kill, she would have killed Ivy Sherwood countless times over.
She had been so afraid someone would steal Quentin Blackwood from her that she had ruined the faces of many beautiful socialites. She would trick them into getting beauty treatments, then use products that would disfigure them, causing their faces to break out in pimples or even rot away.
’That way, Quentin Blackwood would definitely never be interested in those ugly women.’
She had guarded against all the poised and beautiful women of Aethelgard, never imagining that Quentin Blackwood would actually fall for an ugly duckling from a small city!
Ivy Sherwood showed no fear. "Quentin Blackwood was never your man, so how could I have ’stolen’ him? You liking Quentin is your business. If liking something was enough to get it, then I’d say I like dollars. How come I haven’t gotten rich without doing a thing?"
Joy Sheridan was stunned. ’When I saw this woman before, I thought she was just some meek, insignificant little thing. Now, emboldened by Quentin Blackwood’s affection, she’s this fierce and dares to speak to me like that!’