Chapter 1148: Chapter 1148: A Night of Chaos and War
The main door blocked out the outside noise. The man who was just sitting on the sofa suddenly got up, made his way to the water dispenser, poured himself a glass of ice water, and only after gulping it down did he notice the peculiarity of the glass, realizing the girl had used it earlier.
The heat he had just suppressed with the cold water rose again to his cheeks, and the tips of his ears turned an even deeper shade of pink. Uncontrollably, his mind wandered back to the mont when he touched the girl while supporting her. At that ti, he was genuinely confused, not understanding why his hand sank in after supporting her, and by the ti he realized what had happened, his hand had already moved instinctively.
For years, he had always worn the mask of a genteel gentleman, and over ti, that mask seed to beco embedded in his very bones. Even he sotis forgot that he was never the refined and noble person he appeared to be but rather a filthy thing that crawled out of the dirty mire.
During his years as Dean Foster, many won used various ans to get close to him. He never paid them any mind, always maintaining a safe distance, not just because of the place Abigail held in his heart but also because he was repulsed by them.
In those years living with his mother in the Red Light District, he witnessed the most disgusting n in the world and even more filthy won. Sotis, when he ca ho early from school, he would find their tiny rented room tightly locked from inside, and when it reopened, unfamiliar or familiar n would walk out.
Occasionally, those n would tease him, but he remained silent, only watching his mother’s uneasy expression, secretly wishing he could tear them apart, yet ultimately, he could only be a good and understanding child for his mother’s sake.
For he knew, even at the age of three, how to make his mother happy.
As a child, he couldn’t understand why his mother chose to debase herself until he was taken back to the Foster household and learned that she was deceived into pregnancy by Hearst Foster at the age of sixteen or seventeen, strategically robbed of everything.
When he was three, his mother was just twenty—a pampered young lady with no survival skills, not even completing high school. The flesh trade was the easiest way to survive while dragging along a child like him.
Yet, it was also the most despairing.
So he hated Hearst Foster, yet he couldn’t bear to resent his mother.
But not resenting his mother, he found himself unable to get close to any other woman either, not even when he liked Abigail, resorting the feeling to respectful distance, until Abigail’s sudden death pushed his hatred for the Foster family to the peak.
Later, when he discovered that Abigail had been reborn into Abigail Green’s body, he felt both fortunate and regretful and tried to possess her during his ti in Durin.
Unfortunately, whether a woman loves a man is too obvious, and even though she was hypnotized, her physical reaction was real.
He was selfish but not sleazy.
Over the years, his biggest fear was ending up like Hearst Foster. Yet, in the end, he stepped back and watched Abigail run away from their wedding, heading towards another man despite not having regained her mory.
That was the first ti Jeffrey Foster found himself both hateful and pitiful.
His stay at Rose Valley upon returning to the country was a re accident. He didn’t expect to et Abigail so soon, and sohow that explosion seed to have let him release a lot. eting Abigail wasn’t just out of concern for why she was at Rose Valley but also to disgust Brandon Piers.
He thought that after experiencing Abigail’s ordeal, he wouldn’t dabble in emotions so easily again, yet here he was tonight, having accidentally touched a girl’s private area.
He had done it, even if inadvertently.
He hadn’t even done such a thing with Abigail.
Jeffrey Foster was thoroughly agitated, feeling like his civility had been shattered, but then what kind of civility did he ever possess? He vividly rembered Hearst Foster’s furious tirades after hearing the downfall of the Foster family, belittling him as just a bastard born to a prostitute, with no qualifications to be a genteel man.
Mocking himself inwardly, Jeffrey Foster poured himself another cup of ice water, gulped it down, easing his body temperature slightly, but his heart remained inexplicably restless.
He figured it was probably the mutton he had tonight that was driving this irrational emotional stir caused by a girl in her twenties.
Thinking this, Jeffrey Foster felt slightly relieved, sluggishly heading upstairs to his bedroom, setting the water, and just as he lay down, he suddenly rembered the call Isabelle Martin received before sending him in.
That man with the surna Kim sounded like a philanderer, showering the girl with flattery and sweet talk on their first eting, probably cut from the sa cloth as Hearst Foster.
Thinking of Hearst Foster, Jeffrey Foster abruptly got out of the bathtub, already injured and visually impaired, rushed too hastily, and fell heavily to the ground.
The fall was indeed severe, and it took Jeffrey Foster a while to regain his senses. Struggling, he instructed his voice-activated assistant to dial Isabelle Martin’s number, but when he heard the girl’s soft voice upon connection, he suddenly realized what he was doing.
“Mr. Foster? Mr. Foster…” Isabelle Martin hadn’t expected Jeffrey Foster to call her, even though she left her contact on the first day as his housekeeper, it was her first ti receiving a call from him.
But despite the call being connected, there was no sound on the other end. Just as Isabelle Martin started to wonder if Jeffrey Foster had dialed the wrong number, he finally spoke, his voice dark and hoarse, “Sorry, wrong number.”
Isabelle Martin was stunned for a mont; it really was a wrong number. She ended the call in confusion, feeling uneasy. Did he really dial incorrectly, or was sothing wrong?
But the next mont, Isabelle Martin was already sprinting back. She had seen Jeffrey Foster’s smart watch, which was voice-activated, unlikely to misdial like a regular phone; if it dialed out, he must have called her na.
Sothing must be wrong.
And indeed, after disconnecting in the bathroom, Jeffrey Foster realized the gravity of his fall, still struggling to get up after quite so ti.
After several failed attempts, he didn’t force it anymore, leaning his whole body against the bathtub. In his haste earlier, water from the tub spilled all around, and as he lay there, his scars from the previous explosion added to his somber aura.
Isabelle Martin pushed open the bathroom door and was t with this scene, rendered utterly petrified.
She had run back to the villa in a hurry, pressing the doorbell downstairs for a long ti without response. Growing more anxious, she finally punched in the password to enter, finding no trace of Jeffrey Foster until she vaguely heard so sounds from the bathroom, switched on the lights, and pushed open the door, never expecting what she saw.
As a modern woman, Isabelle Martin had seen male bodies in posters, movies, and on beaches, and only a few hours ago, she had inadvertently glimpsed Jeffrey Foster’s bare torso.
But now was different.
No matter where she had seen male bodies before, they always had so fabric covering them, unlike now.
The man before her was utterly naked, and with the lights she switched on before entering, she could see even the texture of his skin clearly, not to ntion the parts that were impossible to ignore even in slumber.
“Ah…” Isabelle Martin finally let out a scream, losing control upon realizing what she had done and quickly covered her eyes. Yet, the very next mont, she couldn’t help but peek through her fingers and asked shakily, “Mr. Foster, what… what’s wrong?”
“What do you think?” Jeffrey Foster hadn’t expected Isabelle Martin to co, yet sohow he wasn’t surprised, his voice calm as he masked other emotions deep in his heart.
“I… I’ll call a male colleague to co over.”
As Isabelle Martin was about to make a call, Jeffrey Foster dropped his pretense, his face turning grim, “You dare.”
Isabelle grew more anxious, “What should we do then? Where did you fall? Is it serious or should I call 911?”
“Shut up, help up,” Jeffrey said in a deep voice, his face looking worse.
Isabelle uttered an “Oh” and moved forward, but when she faced the man’s body, her steps halted again. How was she supposed to help him? Did she have no sha?
“Find the towel yourself,” Jeffrey, although blind, could sense Isabelle’s hesitation, adding another sentence, his ears turning pink as he guessed why the girl had stopped.
It dawned on Isabelle that she could use a towel to cover him first before helping him up. Thinking this, she quickly went to find a towel.
The bathroom was large, but to accommodate Jeffrey, who was blind, everything was placed in the most convenient spots. Isabelle quickly found a towel and approached cautiously, keeping her gaze firmly on the man’s upper body.
Whew!
With Jeffrey’s body covered, Isabelle finally let out a heavy sigh, regaining her voice, “Mr. Foster, shall I start helping you now?”
“Okay.” Jeffrey responded, his mood unreadable. The next mont, he felt a soft small hand touch his arm.
Suddenly, his mind recalled the soft sensation from a certain part of the girl’s body, and he froze completely.
Isabelle sensed Jeffrey’s stiffness, her voice full of worry, “Mr. Foster, where did you fall? Does it feel serious?”
Though the man was thin, he was too tall for soone as weak as Isabelle to support. She struggled to hold him up, panting as she spoke, her warm breath faintly brushing Jeffrey’s neck. If he hadn’t known the girl better, he might have suspected she was trying to seduce him.
“I’m not dying,” Jeffrey used his harsh voice to mask his chaotic emotions.
Isabelle, feeling bitter from Jeffrey’s attitude, felt heartache for both him and herself, her voice turning a bit choked, “Alright then, I’ll help you to the bedroom.”
Saying this, Isabelle decided not to speak anymore, silently helping Jeffrey. But the bathtub water spilled everywhere; she was wearing heels that, though not high, were slippery. As she exerted effort to support Jeffrey and hadn’t taken many steps, her foot suddenly slipped, sending her tumbling to the ground.
“Ah…” Isabelle exclaid in panic, unable to control her falling body, instinctively reaching for the person next to her.
Jeffrey hadn’t anticipated this mishap, but ultimately, as a man, he reacted faster than Isabelle, enduring his earlier pain to grab her. But he was barefoot, making his footing even less stable as he caught her.
Thud!
Isabelle heard the heavy thud, but didn’t feel too much pain. When she opened her eyes, she found herself sprawled on Jeffrey’s firm chest, the towel having long disappeared, her body pressed against his.
Beneath her, the man had his eyes closed, his expression extrely pained, clearly having fallen hard.
No ti for any romantic thoughts, Isabelle shakily asked, “Mr. Foster, are you alright? Wake up…”
She lay on him, shaking him frantically, forgetting even to hide her identity.
It took Jeffrey a good while to gradually regain consciousness, finally becoming aware of the vigorous shaking. Realizing it wasn’t the surroundings shaking, but rather his body being shaken.
“Isabelle, do you have a screw loose?” Jeffrey asked hoarsely.
Upon hearing him speak, Isabelle was overwheld with relief, hugging Jeffrey’s neck, “You’re not dead, you’re not dead… Thank goodness, thank goodness!”
“I wasn’t before, but if you keep pressing on and shaking, it’s uncertain,” Jeffrey struggled to say.
Only then did Isabelle co to her senses, realizing what she was doing. Such a reaction might be understood for a regular girl, but she was a dical student and nearly caused him further injury.
Embarrassed to the extre, Isabelle scrambled off Jeffrey, her long legs accidentally bumping against a sensitive area, eliciting a pained groan from him.
More panicked, she grabbed Jeffrey’s shoulder and asked, “Where does it hurt? Let’s go to the hospital!”
Jeffrey took a deep breath from the pain, which made his twice-hit head throb even more, and snapped, “You’re lucky you’re not studying dicine. If you were my student, you’d never expect to graduate in this lifeti!”
Isabelle was montarily stunned, fearing she was exposed. But then listening again, realizing it wasn’t the case, she said sheepishly, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“So it was deliberate? I strongly suspect you’re retaliating against for rejecting you,” Jeffrey said through gritted teeth, enduring the pain. But having said this, he paused and then added, “Help up, I need to assess my injuries.”
Isabelle, montarily distracted by Jeffrey ntioning his rejection of her, snapped back to reality and went to support him, murmuring to herself, “I didn’t.”
Jeffrey heard this and let out a soft hum, his belief in her unclear.
Isabelle wanted to explain but then heard Jeffrey speak again, “Help call an ambulance.”
“Is it that serious?” Isabelle asked, no longer concerned about Jeffrey’s earlier words, full of urgency.
“Hmm, it’s likely a mild concussion, and there are multiple bruises on other parts of my body,” Jeffrey made a dispassionate assessnt.
Isabelle was panic-stricken, “What should we do? I’m really sorry, it wasn’t intentional…”
“Now’s not the ti for bla, help out first…” The last three words were spoken with so discomfort by Jeffrey.
Isabelle, consud with guilt over causing his concussion, quickly kicked off her shoes and gently helped Jeffrey out of the bathroom.
Things were much easier in the bedroom; to prevent Jeffrey from getting hurt, a thick Tibetan carpet covered the floor, very soft. Yet, Isabelle was too preoccupied to notice, hastily settling him on the bed before rushing to find clothes for Jeffrey.
As Jeffrey said, he had nurous bruises, particularly on his arms, which he could barely lift. After calling 911, Isabelle began helping him change clothes.
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