No Strings Attached

Chapter 287

Clara finished buttoning up her crisp white blouse and stepped out of the room, her eyes immediately landing on Ian. He sat cross-legged on the plush, oversized couch, deeply engrossed in a game of chess with Grandpa Reed.

Ian wore a black turtleneck sweater that hugged his physique just so, paired with impeccably tailored slacks. His posture was upright, and the lines of his lean thighs were impossible to ignore under the soft fabric. The sleeves of his sweater were casually rolled up, revealing the defined contours of his forearms.

His aura was one of refined elegance, so stark against the humble backdrop of the family room that it was jarring.

As Clara approached, Reed called out with a hearty chuckle, "Clara, dear, come give me a hand here. This young man's chess game is no joke – he's beaten me three times already!"

Clara smiled and settled down beside Reed, her gaze shifting to Ian with a mock frown. "You could show some mercy to your elders, you know. Ever heard of going easy?"

Ian's lips curved in a teasing smile. "Grandpa Reed's the chess champ around here. Pulling punches would be an insult, right?"

The old man erupted into laughter. "This grandson-in-law of mine gets me. I tell ya, I like the cut of his jib more and more. Beats the lot at home by a country mile."

Their banter was cut short by a snide voice at the door. "Why is it you always put down your own and puff up outsiders? Your grandson-in-law is so great, but I don't see him bringing any gifts. He just shows up empty-handed every time."

The woman at the doorway eyed Ian with disdain, a sneer twisting her lips. She wasn't alone; a veritable entourage of Reed's kin stood behind her, each looking more critical than the last.

Ian's eyelids lifted slowly, his smile turning icy. The once warm room seemed to chill in the shadow of his frosty demeanor, making the onlookers at the door uneasy. He nonchalantly placed a black piece on the chessboard, his voice neutral. "Here to enjoy the show?"

Leading the pack was Clara's aunt, who dusted off her clothes with a scoff. "We heard Clara snagged herself a catch and came to see for ourselves. But all we find is a pretty boy without a penny to his name. My son's a thousand times the man he is."

The murmurs grew malicious as they sized up Clara.

"With her background, what good family would look twice? She must be a gold-digger, hoping to cash in on some inheritance," one whispered loudly.

"Thought she bagged a rich heir, but he's just a pretty face," another sneered.

Ian's grip on Clara's hand tightened, his eyes softening with concern. "They used to treat you like this?" This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

She nodded, her voice steady. "It's because of my mother and because I'm a girl. My father and I were never favored in the family. These comments are nothing new."

Hearing this, something dark flickered in Ian's eyes, but he masked it with a rakish grin, ruffling her hair. "Don't worry, your husband's got your back."

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Moments later, several men in sleek black suits strode into the yard, each carrying an exquisite gift box. The once modest living space was quickly filled with an array of luxurious items.

Dawson, one of the men, began to explain. "Reed, these are all tokens of Mr. Hayes' respect for you. Please, enjoy at your leisure."

The room fell silent as eyes widened at the sight of goods they had only seen on television screens. Clara's aunt was green with envy. Despite bragging about her son's success, she had never laid eyes on such lavish gifts. Huffing with jealousy, she retorted, "Probably all fakes. You're trying to fool us country folk. My boy Joey's seen the world. I'll call him over right now, and we'll see what you have to say then."

Soon, a man in his thirties swaggered into the yard, his belly protruding over his belt, hair slicked back, and a cigarette hanging from his lips despite the chill – looking every bit the arrogant upstart.

Before he even stepped inside, his scornful voice rang out. "Who's trying to show off under my nose? Let's see if he's still strutting when I break his legs!"