"You know, Grant, I remember you," Stone said "Not very nice recollections."
"And I remember you too, pal. You were that screwed‑up journalism student Ally dated for a while. Thank God she got rid of you."
"Sounds like we were awash in mutual admiration," Stone said.
“Tell you what. Are we gonna continue this touching reunion outside, or do I have to call for security and take your trespassing ass out of here in handcuffs? It's entirely up to you."
"Grant, I see no reason why I can't talk to him if I want," Nina interjected "Who I talk to or what I say is nobody's business but mine."
"You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me," Grant declared. "So I have a little say‑so too." He turned back. "Come on, pal. We're gone."
I'm screwed, Stone told himself. But what about Ally? If I get kicked out, I'll really be leaving her completely defenseless.
"Mrs. Hampton, thank you for letting me check up on you," he said quietly. "Alexa is downstairs. I think her procedure is starting whether she's ready for it or not. You seem very alert, and if I were you, I'd try to monitor her . . . progress as closely as you can."
"Don't worry," Grant said. "I'll be keeping close tabs on her. And now let's go."
With no option short of killing him on the spot, Stone followed along, seething. This little creep obviously works for Winston Bartlett—he wished Ally had warned him about that. Grant was bound to have shown up at some point.