Jean Ellison sat in Justin Holden’s car, her body almost pressed against the car door, as if a galaxy separated her from him.
"You don’t have to sit so far away. I’m not interested in you."
Justin rested his hands on the steering wheel, his forearm muscles forming straight lines under his shirt.
He stared straight ahead, focused on the road.
It was around eleven or twelve at night, and there were few cars on the road. He drove intently, as if deliberately avoiding sothing.
Jean thought carefully, considering her current status, and realized Justin wouldn’t be interested in her.
At that ti, he agreed to date her because the Caldwell family was wealthy, right?
A rich businessman’s daughter, the only child, worth billions—no matter who she married, anyone would welco it.
Moreover, the Holden family were just regular working class; his parents were rely mid-level leaders in a public company.
Now, she was Jean Ellison, a small reporter with no money or background, who had a child, a daughter.
The difference between now and her past as Claire Caldwell was like night and day.
The only improvent seed to be her figure and looks, but Justin appeared uninterested in both.
His ho already had a beautiful wife; no wildflowers outside could compare to the precious rose at ho.
Jean felt a bit warm, adjusted her suit jacket, revealing a slender, fair neck.
Justin’s driving remained steady, though the speed on the dashboard subtly increased.
He seed eager to get her ho quickly.
His hands on the steering wheel gripped tighter than usual, the veins on the back of his hands slightly bulging.
Jean didn’t notice this; her head turned to the side, looking out the window.
The cara on her wrist was already packed safely in her bag; it was the news she risked her life to obtain.
She was just waiting for Philip Paxton to ssage her. Once the charge against the politicians was confird by the police, she could release the story and capture the headlines.
Her mind was focused on work. With next month’s bonus, plus money from selling her family ho and her savings, it would be enough for Jesse’s surgery.
But... the agent hadn’t ssaged her yet; she wasn’t sure if the house had been sold, and she was worried.
"How much will you get from this news?"
Justin suddenly asked, his tone indifferent.
Jean thought for a mont and replied, "A few tens of thousands."
It was strange why he was asking this.
"Just tens of thousands, and you think that’s worth dressing like this? If it wasn’t who went in, do you know what could have happened?"
Justin frowned.
Jean understood clearly the consequences of this matter more than he did, but she had no choice.
If soone else had gone in instead of him, her fate would have been dire.
Though she thought this, she didn’t say it out loud.
"Didn’t Officer Paxton bring people in?"
"He was late."
"And then there’s Vic," Jean continued, but Justin coldly interrupted her. "You expect Friar Tuck to save you in won’s clothes? And the guys watching downstairs, are they blind?"
Jean frowned. How did it beco Friar Tuck? Wasn’t it Goliath Lewis?
"Hypotheticals don’t work; nothing happened in the end, right?"
"That’s because of . If I hadn’t been there..."
"If you weren’t there, I would have found a way to escape."
Jean bit her lip, speaking a flimsy sentence.
Justin glanced at her, saw her lower her head, and said nothing more.
He had originally gone to the club to discuss a lawsuit with the owner, who refused to leave, saying the whole place was filled with his wife’s spies.
It was his first ti at Celestial Spire today and he happened to run into her.
The car approached the entrance to the neighborhood, and the barrier lifted automatically, leaving Jean baffled.
"When did you move into this neighborhood?"
"I don’t live here," Justin said nonchalantly, "I just have a pass."
Jean squinted at him, asking, "Whose identity did you use to get it?"
She knew a resident’s information was needed to obtain a pass.
She thought Justin wouldn’t dare look at her, but to her surprise, he turned, eting her gaze directly, his eyes calm and unaffected.
"Yours."
His lips moved, articulating the words clearly.
Jean opened her mouth, stunned. Did he ask her permission to get a pass?
Besides, why did he even need a pass if he didn’t live here? Wasn’t he wasting money?
Oh right, he never considered money an issue, even spending hundreds of thousands on photos. A useless pass ant nothing to him.
Jean convinced herself not to care or ask further.
Justin went on to explain.
"I got it last ti, when I ca to see you. Just for convenience."
Convenience?
If she rembered correctly, when she got out of prison that day, Officer Paxton escorted her in, and security mistook them for a couple, so a free pass was issued.
They asked all sorts of questions, filled out paperwork, taking over half an hour.
Only after getting it did she realize it was a vehicle pass for the neighborhood. It was useless to her without a car, so she gave it to Philip Paxton.
"Don’t misuse my identity information again."
Jean warned him, thinking she was making a fierce expression. In Justin’s eyes, she looked quite adorable, like a young tiger with incomplete teeth.
"Alright."
He responded, parking the car downstairs.
"Don’t go to places like that again for news. You might not always get out safely."
Justin advised her, words he hadn’t planned to say but said anyway.
"Weren’t you there too?"
Jean countered, a little defiant.
"I was there for a lawsuit; the club’s owner is planning to divorce."
"I was working too; that official had many lovers and abused power!"
Jean got a bit agitated discussing this, recalling when soone called her the fifth mistress, she didn’t even react, thinking she had ti-traveled.
In what era do they still use titles like mistress? Is this a period drama?
Justin gazed into her eyes, his expression stern, voice turning slightly cold: "I was about to leave."
Jean beca serious and asked, "Then why did you co back?"
Justin paused, his eyes revealing an ambiguous emotion, hard to identify.
"You know Claire Caldwell. I promised to help you, so of course I’d save you."
Jean’s heart skipped several beats upon hearing that na.
She instinctively avoided his gaze, shifted her eyes, pursing her lips, and asked, "Are you familiar with Claire Caldwell?"
"Our families lived close to each other."
Justin did not answer her question directly, his reply vague about their familiarity.
Jean blurted out, almost without thinking.
"Then what’s your relationship?"
She pressed on, refusing to let go, with a cool and detached deanor, as if a sensitive topic had been touched.
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