Claimed by the Crown Heir novel Chapter 90

"Do you really think I'm incapable of thoroughly vetting a situation?"

"You clearly know about the rumors, yet you still..."

"She is the woman I chose. I know exactly what kind of character she has better than anyone else."

"What do you mean, the woman you chose?" Eleanor was completely blindsided.

Wasn't the story that George Grant and his daughter had accidentally saved the patriarch during a medical emergency? And that to repay the debt, Arthur had arranged the marriage?

Arthur slowly set his teacup down. "Did you honestly think I would finalize your son's marriage without his explicit consent?"

"Dad?" Eleanor's brow furrowed tightly, her heart lurching. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Are you going to explain it, or should I?" Arthur asked, looking toward his grandson.

Alistair took a seat on the sofa, crossing his long legs. With absolute composure, he lit a cigarette, took a slow drag, and exhaled a faint plume of smoke.

In a calm, detached voice, he finally recounted the history he had buried for years—the time he was hunted down abroad, nearly killed, and ultimately dragged back from the brink of death by Vanessa.

Eleanor was stunned into absolute silence.

"When you were recovering abroad, you kept murmuring a name... Nessa. That was her?"

When Ace had finally been brought home safely all those years ago, she and Julian had been so terrified by the severity of his injuries that they immediately flew him overseas for advanced treatment.

During his recovery, he had mentioned more than once that while he was fading in and out of a coma, a little girl named Nessa had stayed by his side. She kept talking to him, pulling him out of the jaws of death, brewing his medicine, feeding him, and endlessly comforting him.

Alistair flicked the ash from his cigarette, his gaze dark and chilling. "I don't know who ran to you running their mouth, but anyone who gossips and slanders people behind their back is nothing but garbage."

Eleanor looked incredibly uncomfortable under his piercing stare. Her voice weakened. "I... I was just anxious. I spoke out of turn..."

When it came to her son's happiness, it was hard for any mother to maintain complete rationality.

"I've had people watching over her for the past three years in Savannah. All those things you're worried about are absolute fabrications." Alistair crushed his cigarette into the ashtray, his voice devoid of warmth. "If I had to guess, someone from the Grant family is trying to stir up trouble."

Sometimes, having a son who was a genius wasn't entirely a blessing.

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