'Aren't there tons of plots like this in TV shows?'
'No wonder that woman looked so miserable and resentful when she came to me. She was being mistreated by a scumbag!'
Clara Grant despised men who treated women like playthings. She felt so sorry for Little Bun and his mother!
Clara Grant was so caught up in the sob story she'd spun in her head and her sympathy for the mother and son that she didn't have the mental space for anything else.
Seth Quinn, of course, had no idea she had fabricated such an elaborate story in her mind in that split second. His gaze simply swept over the suitcase and Little Bun before finally landing on Clara Grant.
"Whose is this?" Though his surprise had passed and his voice and expression were calm again, his tone was far from friendly.
Clearly, the "this" he was referring to was Little Bun.
"...Yours, of course!" Clara Grant's reply was matter-of-fact, her voice tinged with anger from the drama she had just imagined.
'How could he even ask whose child this is? Even I, a total stranger, can see it. Can't he tell how much the little guy looks just like him?'
'Besides, that woman asked me to bring the child here. If he wasn't the father, why send the boy to him?'
But the moment the words left her mouth, Seth Quinn let out a dry laugh, his smile filled with nothing but ice and disdain.
"Heh, you've got some nerve! Mine? I don't recall ever sleeping with you, so where would this child have come from?"
His words stunned Clara Grant, but she quickly realized his mistake: he thought she was the child's mother.
Clara Grant was just about to speak when he shot out an arm, grabbed her hand, and yanked her forcefully toward him. Caught off guard, she stumbled and crashed into his chest again.
Once again, they were just inches apart. Their breaths tangled, quickly mingling as one.
"Or is this just one of your tricks, all in an attempt to get me into bed?" Seth Quinn's voice grew dark and cold. "'Delivering something,' 'my son'… Those are just your excuses. Your real goal was to show up on my doorstep and offer yourself to me, wasn't it? I've always despised women who throw themselves at me, but I guess it's your lucky day. I'm in a good mood, so I might as well indulge you!"
As he spoke, his other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her tighter into his embrace.
This time, Clara Grant was truly panicking. Little Bun was standing right there! She had so effortlessly played the part of the deadly seductress moments ago, but in front of this innocent, budding flower, she couldn't bring herself to do it.
"Y-y-you, what are you doing?"
Clara Grant glanced at Little Bun, her body stiff with tension, her voice rigid. She could only press her hands desperately against his chest, trying with all her might to push him away.
But the difference in their strength was too great. No matter how hard she pushed, the man didn't move an inch.
"Heh, what do you think I'm doing? Granting your wish, of course. Sleeping with you!"
"Quinn! It's broad daylight, you can't just force yourself on a woman! Besides, there's a child watching…"
"Isn't that perfect? Let him get a good look at how his mother seduces men!"
'Ha!' Clara Grant almost laughed out of sheer anger. 'I already knew he was a scumbag, but I didn't think he could be this vile! To say something like that!'
'And he dares to do something that would corrupt an innocent child!'