CHAPTER 128: CHAPTER 128: BURN SCAR

Evening, Justin Holden had yet to arrive home.

Jean Ellison was preparing dinner in the kitchen, her movements somewhat distracted.

She hesitated for a moment, then dried her hands, picked up her phone, and walked to the balcony to dial Leah Sutton’s number.

The phone rang a few times before it was answered, the background noise was somewhat chaotic, as if in some social setting.

Leah Sutton’s voice carried a hint of laziness and impatience, "Hello?"

"It’s me, Jean Ellison." Jean tried to keep her voice steady, "About the tube matter, I’m still looking for an opportunity, but he’s very cautious, it needs time..."

"No need." Leah interrupted her directly, her tone casual, as if speaking of something insignificant, "I’ve already taken care of the tube matter, you don’t need to worry about it anymore."

Jean was stunned, her fingers tightening slightly around the phone, "Taken care of? What do you mean?"

"It means I’ve got what I needed. I’ll handle the follow-up myself." Leah’s voice carried a trace of imperceptible satisfaction and detachment, "Just do what you’re supposed to do."

Jean’s heart didn’t settle down, on the contrary, it grew more unsettled.

Had Leah really managed it?

What method did she use, does Justin know?

Countless questions flooded her mind, but she knew Leah wouldn’t tell her the details.

Suppressing her turbulent emotions, she shifted to another matter, "About my move to headquarters?"

"Oh, that." Leah seemed to have just remembered, her tone still relaxed, "I’ve already formally submitted the application. With your achievements in the country and my recommendation, there shouldn’t be any issue. If the process at headquarters goes quickly, the approval might come by the beginning of next month, and you and Jesse could head to Gresten as early as mid-next month, so prepare in advance."

Mid-next month... so soon?

Jean was momentarily dazed.

The chance to escape was right before her, but her heart felt weighed down, with no sense of relief at all.

"...Okay. I understand, thank you."

She responded dryly.

"No need to thank me, it’s mutual benefit." Leah chuckled lightly, a hint of mockery in her tone, "Once in Gresten, behave yourself. Remember, I can lift you up there, and I can let you fall down too."

The call ended abruptly.

Holding the phone, Jean stood on the balcony, watching the slowly setting sun in the distance, only feeling that the afterglow also carried a cold temperature.

Dinner time came.

Justin Holden returned, silently having his meal.

The atmosphere, as usual, was somewhat stagnant.

Jesse tried hard to liven up the mood, chattering about kindergarten fun.

Jean forced a smile to respond, her mind drifted far away.

She occasionally glanced at Justin Holden, as if she had something to say.

The matter was resolved, yet she felt no relief at all, rather exceptionally heavy.

Or more precisely, it was heartache.

Leah had sorted it out, how could she manage it alone, had Justin compromised, did he collaborate with her.

After dinner, Jean cleaned up the dishes and went into the kitchen, Justin went to the study to handle emails.

After she finished her chores and came out, Justin had already showered, wearing a dark gray silk robe, leaning at the head of the bed in the master bedroom reading a book. His damp black hair casually laid across his forehead, softening his usual austerity.

Jean took her pajamas, planning to wash up in the guest room’s bathroom.

"Wash here."

Justin suddenly opened his mouth, his gaze not lifting from the book pages, his voice flat.

Jean’s steps halted, somewhat surprised.

He rarely asked her to stay in the master bedroom to wash up.

She hesitated for a moment but turned and walked into the master bedroom’s bathroom.

She couldn’t show any irregularity, she was set to go with Jesse to Gresten next month, the priority was to behave as usual in front of Justin.

After her shower, she came out wearing a conservative cotton pajama, her hair wet around her shoulders.

She walked to the dressing table, picking up the hairdryer.

Justin had put down the book at some point, his gaze fell on her.

When Jean turned to fix her hair, the robe’s collar slightly slipped, revealing a small patch of skin on her back.

On the right side beneath her scapula, a slightly hideous, pale pink scar was clearly visible.

The scar wasn’t large, but it was irregularly shaped, like a mark left by a burn.

Justin’s gaze abruptly fixed on that scar, his pupils slightly contracted.

He had actually noticed this scar long ago.

During several recent nights of sharing the bed, he had glimpsed it vaguely. But previously, his mind wasn’t on it, so he hadn’t investigated further. Now, under the bright light, it was exceptionally clear.

Jean was focused on blow-drying her hair, unaware of his gaze.

Suddenly, Justin got up, moving behind her.

His tall figure instantly loomed over, carrying a bath’s dampness and a sense of pressure.

Jean was startled, turning off the hairdryer, and looked back in surprise, "What’s wrong?"

Justin did not answer, simply extending a finger, his cool fingertip gently touched the scar on her back.

Jean’s body stiffened sharply, as if struck by electricity, she instinctively wanted to evade.

"Don’t move." Justin’s voice was low, carrying a commanding tone.

His finger did not press hard, just lightly stroking the uneven scarred skin, his gaze deep and unfathomable.

"This wound," he spoke, his voice devoid of emotion, "how did it happen?"

Jean’s heart pounded wildly, blood seemed to surge to her head, then quickly recede, leaving a cold fear. The thing she feared most had happened.

She forced herself to calm down, turning her back to him, not daring to let him see the panic on her face, and tried to keep her voice steady, even with a hint of deliberately crafted bitterness and evasion.

"It’s nothing, just accidentally got burned before."

"Where did you get burned?"

Justin Holden pressed on, his fingers still resting on the scar, as if carefully feeling every inch of its texture.

His tone was calm, yet it carried an unquestionable probing intent.

Jean Ellison’s fingertips trembled slightly. She took a deep breath and uttered the answer that had long been prepared.

"In prison, while working, accidentally got it."

The air instantly solidified.

Justin Holden’s fingers froze as he touched the scar.

Prison. The word felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, crashing down between them.

Jean could feel the man’s breath behind her seemingly pause for a moment.

She knew the answer was shocking enough and reasonable enough.

A woman who had been in prison, carrying some scars, was nothing out of the ordinary.

This also perfectly explains her blank past few years and her current low profile.

However, Justin’s prolonged silence made her anxious.

He remembered clearly, Claire Caldwell’s back was smooth and fair, except for a small petal-shaped red birthmark below the right shoulder blade.

It was a secret characteristic only the closest people would know.

But now, in that position, was a hideous burn scar.

Justin’s gaze became extremely profound, like a deep pond, the bottom unclear.

He slowly withdrew his hand.

Jean’s tightly wound nerves relaxed a little, but her heart was still pounding fiercely.

She didn’t dare to turn around, could only stand there stiffly, waiting for judgment.

"Be careful from now on."

Finally, after a long while, Justin’s voice came from behind, with no trace of emotion detectable, as if the earlier conversation never happened.

He turned, went back to the bed, picked up a book, and seemed to immerse himself in it again.

Jean secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but her hands and feet were still icy cold.

She quickly dried her hair, almost as if escaping, lifted the quilt and lay on the other side of the bed, turning her back to him, tightly closing her eyes.

Justin’s gaze lifted from the pages, landing on the woman’s tense back, his eyes dark and unclear.

The shape and position of that scar repeatedly surfaced in his mind.

In the darkness, Jean clutched the quilt tightly, the scar on her back that had long healed seemed to start burning painfully again.

It wasn’t a mark from prison, but a destruction trace she precisely branded over the original birthmark with a red-hot iron tong, using a mirror.

Laser removal would leave records, and would also leave traces different from a burn.

Only this kind of thorough destruction could most safely cover up the last distinctive physical trait of Claire Caldwell.

Every painful tremble, every grotesque wound seen during dressing change was for the sake of calmly saying today it was from a burn in prison.

Yet, she hadn’t expected, the first to scrutinize this scar so intently, would be Justin Holden.

Did he really believe it?

Dawn was breaking, in the study room.

Justin Holden suffered from insomnia again tonight. Thinking of that birthmark, he sat behind the wide desk, the glow of the computer screen illuminating his sharp profile.

The case files lay open in front of him, but he couldn’t read a word.

Prison.

He seemed to talk to himself, his thin lips moved slightly.

He picked up his phone, unlocked it, and his fingers slid quickly through the contacts, finally pausing on one with no name stored, just a string of numbers.

Without any hesitation, he dialed it.

The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. A slightly hoarse, sleepy male voice came through, cautious: "Who is this?"

"It’s me."

Justin’s voice was low and steady, carrying no trace of emotion.

The other side was silent for a moment, seemingly surprised, then instantly cleared of sleepiness, the tone becoming respectful and cautious.

"Mr. Holden, so late, what can I do for you?"

Justin’s gaze fell on the dark night outside the window, his voice low but each word distinct.

"Help me look into someone, Jean Ellison, imprisoned about five years ago, specific time unknown, served at Crestwell Women’s Penitentiary in Kingswell City, I need to know all her detailed information inside."

He paused, adding, his tone still calm but carrying an undeniable hardness.

"Especially how she got injured, her right shoulder blade area has a burn, I need to know the exact time, cause, person responsible, all details."

The person on the other end seemed stunned for a moment, as if not expecting this kind of investigative content, but immediately responded: "Understood. However, Mr. Holden, it’s been quite a while, and it involves the prison system’s internal matters, might take some time to handle, some records might not be complete."

"Do your best to find out, as quickly as possible." Justin ordered, leaving no room for negotiation, "Money is not an issue, I want results."

"Okay, Mr. Holden. I’ll get right on it."

After hanging up, Justin tossed the phone on the desk, leaned back into the chair, and pinched the tightly furrowed space between his eyebrows.

Her days in prison didn’t seem to go well.

But what kind of accident could precisely burn that spot?

Or was it really an accident?

When she was explaining, she didn’t dare to look into his eyes, as if she was afraid of something.

In the dim light, Justin’s eyes became increasingly profound.