Oops! Keep the Fiancé… I’m Taking the Fake Heiress Chapter 05

Oops! Keep the Fiancé… I’m Taking the Fake Heiress Chapter 05

My knee still throbbed, but I couldn’t be bothered with the pain anymore.

I tilted my head slightly and looked through the gap between lan’s arm and body.

Martin’s face, so smug only moments ago, was now deathly pale.

The champagne glass in his hand crashed to the floor, splashing wine all over his trouser leg.

“Mr. Shaw…”

His voice trembled.

“This is a misunderstanding.”

lan ignored him.

He bent down, his fingers gripping my chin as he turned my face toward the light and examined me carefully

beneath the crystal chandelier.

Then he lowered his gaze to my knee.

Two streaks of dust marked the hem of my cream-colored dress.

The fabric over my kneecap had been scraped thin, and the skin beneath it was red.

His expression turned terrifyingly cold.

“Where else are you hurt?”

“Only my knee,” I said.

“I’m fine.”

lan said nothing.

He straightened and pulled me farther behind him.

He had always been like this.

The angrier he got, the fewer words he spoke.

At that moment, every inch of him practically screamed that he was in an extremely bad mood.

Mr Grant finally pushed his way through the crowd.

He had been on the other side of the ballroom socializing with several clients and had assumed the commotion was nothing more than a minor dispute.

He approached at an unhurried pace, clearly intending to use his status to smooth things over.

Then he looked up and saw lan Shaw’s face.

He nearly dropped his glass.

The previous month, he and Martin had used every connection they had to secure a supply-chain meeting with Shaw Industries.

After waiting three hours in the lobby of Shaw Tower, they hadn’t even caught a glimpse of lan.

All they’d received was a message from reception.

“Mr. Shaw’s schedule is fully booked today.”

Now lan Shaw was standing at their own gala, in front of Mr. Grant’s biological daughter, calling her the most.

treasured member of the Shaw family.

The color drained from Mr. Grant’s face.

He had enough experience to steady himself and force a smile.

He stepped forward.

“Mr. Shaw, Martin was out of line.”

“He’s young and foolish.”

“He’s two years older than I am,” I added coolly from behind lan.

Mr. Grant’s mouth twitched.

Martin had recovered enough to stand.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to step forward.

His voice still trembled.

“Mr. Shaw, I’m truly sorry.”

“It’s my fault for failing to teach my sister properly.”

“As for the watch, the Grant family will pay three times the price.”

“No, five times.”

lan cut him off coldly.

“My sister broke the watch.”

“You don’t need to pay for it.”

“But she injured her knee.”

“How do you plan to cover the medical costs?”

The entire room froze.

Wasn’t I supposed to be the daughter who had been raised by an ordinary family?

Why was the eldest Shaw brother calling me his sister?

Martin’s mouth opened and closed twice, but not a single word came out.

lan’s chief of staff appeared beside him with a tablet.

lan looked at the Grant family, then turned his eyes toward Vera.

“From the way you treat your biological daughter, I had to wonder whether you treated the daughter who grew up here any better.”

He lifted his chin.

His chief of staff stepped forward, turned the screen outward, and spoke loudly enough for the entire

ballroom to hear.

“Based on a review of Miss Vera Grant’s personal expense records over the past eighteen years…”

Every guest turned to listen.

“Miss Grant’s skincare products, clothing, gowns, and accessories required written approval from Martin

Grant before purchase.”

“The approval rate was approximately forty-three percent.”

“The highest single amount ever approved was five hundred dollars.”

“All expenses connected to Miss Grant’s public appearances and dates with Ethan Ford were charged to Ford

family accounts.”

“The Grant family did not cover any of them.”

The chief of staff paused and moved to the next page.

“Miss Vera Grant owns no shares in Grant Holdings.”

“No trust has ever been established in her name.”

“She owns no property.”

‘Mrs. Grant died when Miss Vera Grant was eight years old.”

“Since then, Miss Grant has received no regular allowance or fixed living budget from the Grant family.”

“Every expense required an individual application and approval.”

“The total amount approved for her personal use over eighteen years was approximately twelve thousand

dollars.”

The ballroom erupted.

“That’s outrageous.”

“Even a foster daughter shouldn’t be treated like that.”

“The Grants are unbelievably cheap.”

Someone else murmured, “No wonder Vera Grant never attends private events.”

“I always thought she was simply distant.”

Vera stood at the edge of the crowd, clutching her dress.

Her face was almost transparent.

Her lips were pressed tightly together.

Her spine remained perfectly straight, like a reed bending in the wind but refusing to break.

My heart clenched.

lan glanced sideways at me, his eyes asking a silent question.

I gave a small nod.

“Mr. Shaw…”

Mr. Grant’s face had turned dark with anger, but he was still a businessman.

He knew he had to put out the fire.

He forced out a smile that looked worse than a grimace.

“This has all been a misunderstanding.”

“We have always cared for Vera.”

We may have overlooked a few things, but we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Since you’re Tessa’s brother, perhaps you’d honor us by joining the family for dinner tomorrow.”

“Give us a chance to make this right in person.”

Every word was carefully measured. He had apologized without truly admitting fault-and offered just

enough respect to protect both his pride and his interests.

But every guest in the room understood how false the phrase administrative oversights sounded.

I looked at Vera’s pale face, then at lan.

“Fine,” I said.

“We’ll come tomorrow.”

“I have several accounts to settle with the Grant family anyway.”

Mr. Grant blinked, clearly surprised that I’d agreed so quickly.

Then his face filled with smiles.

“Wonderful.”

“We’ll prepare everything.”

“We’ll be waiting for you and Mr. Shaw.”

I couldn’t be bothered to look at his fake expression any longer.

I turned and walked toward Vera.

The crowd parted automatically.

When I stopped in front of her, she looked up.

Her eyes were rimmed red, but she bit her lip and refused to cry.

“Vera,” I said.

“Let’s go home.”

She opened her mouth.

Her voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.

“Tessa…”

I took her hand and held it tightly.

Her fingers were ice cold and trembling.

Ethan stood three steps away the entire time.

He didn’t dare say a word.

I led Vera out of the ballroom.

The night air rushed toward us, cool and sharp.

Finally, she couldn’t hold back.

Tears slid down her cheeks and landed hot against the back of my hand.

“Vera.”

I pulled her into my arms and rested my chin on top of her head.

“Don’t cry.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll take you back there.”

“We’ll settle every single account, one by one.”

She trembled in my arms and gave a muffled hum of agreement.

lan had followed us out without either of us noticing.

He stood several steps away, watching us cling to each other.

The corner of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly.

Then he turned away with exaggerated politeness and pretended to admire a streetlamp.

I glared at him over Vera’s shoulder.

The back of his head was facing me, but the tips of his ears had gone red.