Chapter 259 - 258: Dear Professor Lowell

"You silly girl, you still take everything so seriously. You can’t take a joke at all," Principal Hawthorne said with a sheepish laugh, changing the subject.

"For the speeches later, I’ve specifically scheduled your dad and your boyfriend back-to-back so you can have a good look at the charm of our university’s outstanding alumni."

Yvonne Lowell’s lips twitched. "I certainly hope you’re doing this so I can see their ’charm,’ and not just to stir the pot."

’These two are more than twenty years apart, yet he still managed to schedule them together.’

’If Patriarch Lowell goes first, he’ll definitely agonize over whether Leo Grant’s wording, intonation, and every other aspect are inferior to his own.’

’And if he goes after, that would be a complete disaster. Why should he, the senior alumnus, be scheduled to speak later? And of all people, why did it have to be after that wolf cub?!’

’Either way, it was just making things harder for Mr. Grant. A world where only Mr. Grant suffers was successfully created.’

Principal Hawthorne raised a hand to stroke his small tuft of a beard and said with an all-knowing air,

"How could that be? I just want this future father-and-son-in-law duo to bond. They might even thank me for this later."

’Fine. As long as he’s happy. It’s not my problem, anyway.’

’It’s normal to get a little mischievous in your old age. I just have to indulge him, right?’

Over on the stage, the host had already begun the program. The first item was Principal Hawthorne’s opening address.

However, considering Principal Hawthorne’s age, he was allowed to deliver his speech right from his seat, with a camera projecting his image onto the large screen.

And for some reason, perhaps because the cameraman’s hand was shaking, the camera swept past the person next to him—Yvonne Lowell—and her nameplate several times at the beginning.

This forced Yvonne Lowell to maintain the posture of a model student the entire time, a standard smile plastered on her face.

She was terrified the camera would pan back to her at any moment and catch her slacking off or daydreaming.

’Right now, she was Professor Lowell, a Lifetime Honorary Professor and an esteemed intellectual. She couldn’t resort to her usual antics.’

Watching the figure sitting bolt upright diagonally ahead of him, a teasing smile touched Leo Grant’s eyes.

’It must be tough on his good girl, having to sit so properly.’

After Principal Hawthorne finished speaking, before the camera could even cut away, he turned smugly to Yvonne Lowell beside him and said,

"So? I did a pretty good job, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course. You were brilliant," Yvonne Lowell agreed with a smiling nod.

Principal Hawthorne’s lips twitched, holding back a grin. He snorted softly. "Of course I was. Come on, then. Tell me what I just talked about."

Yvonne Lowell rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I’m telling you, Old Man Hawthorne, you’re not being cute right now. The script is right there on the table, and you’re testing me? Even if I wasn’t paying close attention, I’d still remember it, alright?"

"Hmph. No respect for your elders. Look who’s talking about not being cute," Principal Hawthorne grumbled, pursing his lips.

A few more administrators went up to say a few words before it was time for the outstanding alumni speech segment.

Yvonne Lowell checked the program. Charles Lowell was fourth, and the three before him were all industry titans from her grandfather’s generation.

’Watching Patriarch Lowell deliver his passionate speech from a script on stage, Yvonne Lowell prayed that Leo Grant would take a script up with him. Otherwise, there would be big trouble...’

But as it turned out, the two of them lacked that telepathic connection. When his name was called, Leo Grant went on stage completely empty-handed.

Leo Grant’s gaze swept across the entire auditorium before finally landing on Yvonne Lowell, his expression visibly softening.

"Respected administrators, my dear Professor Lowell, fellow alumni, faculty, and students, good afternoon..."

"Tch. Shameless," Principal Hawthorne muttered under his breath.

Yvonne Lowell shot him a sideways glance. "What’s the matter? Jealous?"

"I am not jealous in the least. The simple, quiet love my wife and I share is what’s real, unlike you young folks who are always so clingy."

A teasing smile flickered in Yvonne Lowell’s eyes, but she didn’t call his bluff. ’And who was it, again, who was in his seventies and still doted on Old Madam Hawthorne every day?’

Back in his seat, Charles Lowell’s eyes narrowed. When he saw Leo Grant go up empty-handed, he had been waiting for him to pull a script from his pocket, but it turned out the man was genuinely speaking without notes.

So, he prepared to critique his word choice and delivery, only to find the man speaking with a professional broadcaster’s cadence and using sophisticated vocabulary.

’Most importantly, that shameless punk had the gall to say "Myyyy deeeear Proooofessor Looowell..."’

’Damn it! I’m so pissed! Even I, her father, haven’t said that!’

"Thank you!"

The moment Leo Grant finished speaking, the auditorium erupted in thunderous applause.

Yvonne Lowell was among them, a smile on her face as she watched the man on stage.

’A man is always most handsome when he’s serious. Isn’t this so much better than the cheesy fool she usually had on her hands?!’

Leo Grant met her gaze for a moment before returning to his seat.

Charles Lowell: ’...Why was the applause for him louder than it was for me?! ARGH!!’

Once that segment of the event concluded, Yvonne Lowell helped Principal Hawthorne out of the auditorium and said her goodbyes, deciding not to stay for the rest of the show.

Principal Hawthorne pouted. "Fine. Come visit when you have time. And about that other thing... you need to give it some serious thought. How long have you been stringing me along?"

"I know. I’ll give you an answer soon. Call me anytime if you need anything."

Yvonne Lowell waved over a nearby assistant, signaling for him to come and support the man. Only then did she let go.

"We’re off, then. You should head back."

Both sets of parents had to make an appearance at the performance venue, leaving Leo Grant and Yvonne Lowell behind like a pair of abandoned, grown-up "left-behind children" to stroll slowly toward the campus exit.

Yvonne Lowell tickled his palm and whispered, "How much longer do you think she plans on following us? We’re almost at the gate. Has she decided to abandon her own husband or something?"

Yvonne Lowell was referring to Lynn White. Ever since she had said goodbye to Principal Hawthorne, Lynn White had been trailing behind the two of them.

When they sped up, she sped up. When they slowed down, she slowed down. When they turned a corner, she turned a corner.

’I have no idea how she managed to get away from Ethan Bishop. I can’t believe that ’clingy weirdo’ was actually willing to let her out of his sight.’

’And now we’re almost at the gate, and she’s still following.’

’She isn’t saying a word. Is she planning to apologize or something?’

’But the vibe Lynn White gave off—that she wished Ethan Bishop would just drop dead already—didn’t seem fake. She wouldn’t stoop to groveling for an apology on his behalf, surely.’

"Who knows? Are you hungry? What do you feel like eating?"

Leo Grant nonchalantly changed the subject. ’Who did she think she was, trying to disturb their time together?’

"How about that revolving restaurant you own? I’m suddenly in the mood for French food," Yvonne Lowell said after a moment’s thought.

"I’ll have them get things ready, then. Add a tiramisu?" Leo Grant asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Make it two!"

"Done," Leo Grant said with an indulgent look.

The two chatted idly as they walked. As they reached a corner, the clicking of high heels behind them grew more hurried.

Lynn White’s voice followed. "Miss Lowell, please wait a moment."