Chapter 105: Grant Holloway Was No Fool

Grant Holloway was no fool. The moment Clara Whitmore had her accident, he sensed something amiss.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against the desk, eyes sharp as a hawk's.

Without delay, he pulled up the surveillance footage from the diving center.

After repeated reviews, the technicians concluded: the shark attack was purely accidental, and the oxygen tank malfunction mere coincidence.

"Let me explain—" Connor Hayes began.

Grant violently shook off his hand, gaze icy. "Stay away from her. Or face the consequences."

Watching Grant's retreating figure, Connor fell into deep thought.

He'd deliberately avoided mentioning Paige Lawson. Was it an oversight...or intentional?

At the end of the corridor, Paige spotted Grant approaching with a stormy expression. Instantly, she brightened with a saccharine smile. "Darling, let's get breakfast?"

She playfully swung his arm, eyes sparkling.

Grant gave a noncommittal grunt, allowing her to cling to him.

His gaze swept the area—Clara had already vanished. Annoyed, he patted his pocket. Connor clearly had ulterior motives...

After several days on the island, Clara discovered its charm extended beyond picturesque scenery to a vibrant cultural scene.

Morning sunlight danced on the ocean's surface as she exited the restaurant—only to collide with a voluptuous Latina bombshell.

The golden-curled beauty in a neon pink bikini winked at her.

Clara stumbled back in surprise, nearly tripping over her own feet.

"What's wrong?" Sloane Bennett asked concernedly.

"Nothing," Clara rubbed her nose. "Just wondering why there are so many bikinis today."

The beach was a riot of colorful swimwear, far more than usual.

"Oh my god!" Sloane gasped dramatically. "You don't know what today is?"

Clara looked blank.

"It's the 'Roses & Bikinis' Carnival!" Sloane squealed. "Ladies wear bikinis, men bring roses. Tonight they'll crown the Bikini Queen—winner gets a mystery prize!"

Lowering her voice conspiratorially, she added, "I picked out something special for you."

Before Clara could protest, she was shoved into a dressing room.

"Ready yet?" Sloane called impatiently.

A flushed face peeked out. "This...this is way too revealing..."

Sloane barged in, dragging her before a full-length mirror. "Look at that figure! Those curves! Absolute perfection!"

The reflection showed Clara in a wine-red lace bikini, her porcelain skin glowing against the crimson fabric.

"No way..." Clara scrambled to cover herself.

"Don't be shy," Sloane teased. "The string-bikini girls aren't complaining."

Just then, a phone rang.

Clara seized the distraction. "Go answer that!"

With an exasperated eye-roll, Sloane turned away.