CHAPTER 130: CHAPTER 130: TWO DIFFERENT THINGS

On Monday morning, the usual aroma of coffee mixed with the smell of printer paper in the magazine office was suddenly accompanied by a rich and elegant floral scent, which was out of place yet captivating.

Jean Ellison had just sat down at her desk, her fingertips hadn’t even touched the computer’s power button.

The front desk intern walked through the public area, carrying a large bouquet almost big enough to cover her entire body, her steps slightly staggering, her face filled with excitement and curiosity.

"Miss Ellison, your flowers, oh my, this is so grand."

The intern carefully placed the bouquet on Jean Ellison’s desk, her movements full of awe.

A striking bouquet of top-grade Ecuadorian roses, five hundred and twenty in total, in deep velvety hues, with lush, plump petals, each as if meticulously crafted, flawless.

Interspersed with silvery gray dusty miller and vibrant eucalyptus leaves, the bouquet was wrapped in high-quality matte gray art paper, tied with a dark satin ribbon, which held a small, exquisite gold-embossed card.

The bouquet’s presence was so strong that it instantly caught the attention of all the colleagues around, and whispers and exclamations spread quietly.

"Wow, Jean Ellison, who sent this?"

Colleagues nearby immediately gathered around, their eyes wide open, incredulously examining the bouquet.

"With this caliber and scale, it’s definitely not from a regular florist, looks like it’s at least five figures, which admirer went all out for this?"

Another colleague took a deep breath of the fragrance, full of envy.

"It really smells nice, and the color is so vibrant, Jean Ellison, be honest, did you secretly start dating someone? Perhaps a low-key billionaire? This is quite the display."

Even the most senior colleague joined in the teasing with a smile.

"Indeed, fess up, is there a secret romance you’re hiding from us, reaching the stage of sending this level of flowers, seems like good news is near, you must treat us to a big meal then."

Looking at the almost desk-occupying, evidently expensive bouquet of flowers in front of her, Jean Ellison’s brow involuntarily furrowed slightly, feeling a surge not of joy, but of deep confusion and an indescribable unease.

She took down the exquisite card and opened it, containing only a machine-printed English phrase.

Have a nice day.

No signature, no name, conveying a deliberate sense of distance.

"I really don’t know who sent it."

Jean Ellison raised her head, responding calmly to the surrounding teasing, her eyes holding genuine bewilderment.

She began to dismantle the overly large bouquet with swift movements.

"Oh, don’t take it apart, what a waste."

A colleague hurriedly said upon seeing her actions.

"It takes up too much space here, and I’m not very used to such strong floral scents."

Jean Ellison explained as she continued, swiftly dividing the massive bouquet into several small, delicate bouquets, and then smilingly distributed them to her female colleagues around.

"Here, everyone take one, put it on your desk, it’ll brighten your mood."

The colleagues were momentarily stunned, then delightedly accepted them, thanking her.

"Thank you, Jean Ellison."

"You’re so generous."

They accepted the flowers, the exchanged glances filled with growing curiosity and intrigue.

Such expensive flowers with an evident meaning, yet distributed so calmly after being received, claiming not to like them?

There’s definitely a story behind this.

Jean Ellison maintained her outward smile, offering no further explanation.

The doubts in her heart, however, began to grow and entwine like vines.

Justin Holden?

There’s no way he would do something so ostentatious and superficial.

Then who could it be? A prank, or some yet unnoticed hint?

Her gaze instinctively turned to the office door of the Editor-in-Chief.

Leah Sutton hadn’t come out yet.

As she was thinking this, the office door opened. Leah Sutton stepped out.

Today, she looked radiant, her skin glowing with healthy radiance, a subtle, kinder smile on her lips, different from usual.

But what surprised everyone even more was her attire and demeanor.

She rarely dispensed with her sharply authoritative high heels, choosing instead a pair of soft, comfortable leather flats.

What she wore was no longer the curve-accentuating, aggressively tailored suits, but a drape-fitting, loose silk shirt and a pair of comfortable wide-leg pants, the overall style much softer.

She held a simply designed white thermos, and instead of heading to the coffee machine like usual, she unscrewed the lid, the light, sweet aroma of red dates, goji berries, and longan wafting out.

"Good morning, Editor Sutton, no coffee today?"

A veteran editor passing by curiously asked.

Leah Sutton smiled, her tone light and natural: "Yes, I’ve started focusing on health recently, quit caffeine."

As she spoke, recalling something, she turned back to her office and brought out a small but well-crafted built-in mini wine cabinet, containing a few bottles of expensive red wine and single malt whiskey.

"Here, whoever’s interested can take these."

She placed the wine cabinet on a table in the public area, inviting her colleagues.

"I’ve decided to quit drinking too, won’t be having these anymore, leaving them here to gather dust."

"Quitting alcohol?"

This statement was like a small bomb, causing quite a stir in the office area.

Everyone knew Leah Sutton was renowned in the circle for being a fine wine connoisseur, enjoying a drink when stressed or celebrating a project’s completion.

Quitting alcohol news was even more unbelievable than skyrocketing magazine sales.

"Yes," Leah Sutton, unfazed by everyone’s shock, remained composed with her smile, "I’ve reached the age where I must learn to take care of my health, I’ll be following a healthy lifestyle from now on, with light meals and regular routines."

The coworkers exchanged glances. Although they found it extremely odd, they were happy to gather around the free upscale drinks, thanking "Editor-in-Chief Sutton" and remarking "what a pity" as they shared the wine.

Jean Ellison stood by her workstation the entire time, coldly observing everything.

The floral scent lingering on the table hadn’t yet dissipated. Leah Sutton’s sudden lifestyle shift, abandoning coffee and wine, putting on flat shoes, and taking up herbal tea,

was truly surprising.

Ah, it must be the IVF treatment.

Jean thought of Leah Sutton’s casual "it’s been taken care of" from their recent phone conversation, further solidifying her suspicions.

Could she really have succeeded?

That’s why Leah Sutton started cautiously paying attention to all pregnancy taboos, explaining her unusually vibrant and full complexion today.

Jean instinctively reached out to steady herself against the cold partition of her desk, her fingertips turning slightly pale from the effort of keeping her somewhat weakened body upright.

She watched Leah Sutton socializing easily among the crowd, her usually sharp eyes seeming to settle into a nearly gentle glow.

Very gentle, very beautiful, almost like a maternal radiance emanating.

No, this must be her imagination, a delusion caused by excessive anxiety.

But if not for this reason, what other plausible explanation could justify such a drastic change in someone like Leah Sutton?

Jean’s heartbeat was erratic, a chaotic mess.

If Leah Sutton really succeeded, it meant that the faint and distorted connection between her and Justin Holden would be thoroughly severed.

The escape route she had planned for herself and Jesse would need to be pursued more swiftly and decisively.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, slowly sat back in her chair, and tried to focus on the computer screen in front of her.

She realized that her hand holding the mouse was trembling slightly.

Jean buried herself in organizing the materials needed for the afternoon meeting, vaguely hearing Leah Sutton’s voice from the Editor-in-Chief’s office.

The office door was ajar, letting snippets of words float out.

"Yes, I know the first few months are the most important. Have to be really careful."

"Don’t worry, sis, I’ve arranged everything. The best postnatal care center is already booked."

"I’ve looked at a few nannies, but we’ll need you to make the final choice."

"We’ll definitely hire a housekeeper, otherwise it’s too much to handle."

Each word was like a little hammer, precisely striking Jean’s taut nerves.

The first few months, postnatal care center, nannies, housekeeper.

These words strung together pointed to one singular and clear conclusion.

Jean’s fingers tightened on the documents, knuckles paling.

She was almost certain of her suspicions, Leah Sutton’s IVF had succeeded.

The Holden family seemed to know already, and the person Leah Sutton was talking to on the phone was probably Zoe Holden.

They had even begun actively preparing for the child’s arrival.

Zoe Holden knew and showed concern by asking about the arrangements over the phone.

For some reason, although this had nothing to do with her, a feeling of bitterness welled up in her heart.

She bowed her head, trying hard to refocus on the document, but couldn’t concentrate on reading a single word.

In the Holden family’s villa living room, the atmosphere was completely different from what Jean imagined.

Zoe Holden lounged on the sofa, her face carrying a lazy, happy smile, her hand gently caressing her still perfectly flat belly.

Mrs. Holden sat beside her, eyes brimming with joy and anticipation, holding a tablet enthusiastically showing her a top-tier postnatal care center’s introduction.

"What do you think of this room? It’s south-facing with a large terrace, and I heard their postnatal rehabilitation therapists are particularly professional."

Mrs. Holden pointed at the screen.

"Hmm, it looks nice." Zoe Holden nodded, letting out a small yawn, "Mom, you go ahead and decide. I trust your judgment."

Mr. Holden sat on the opposite sofa, hiding an amused smile behind his newspaper, occasionally chiming in with a comment.

"The environment has to be good, and quiet is most important. Money’s not an issue."

"Yes, yes, definitely giving my precious daughter and granddaughter the best."

Mrs. Holden grinned widely, putting down the tablet and holding Zoe’s hand, her tone full of longing.

"Zoe, this time I’m really hoping for a little granddaughter. Soft, cuddly little girl, so endearing. Look at your brother, such a cold personality, probably can’t be relied on. I’ve got my hopes on you."

As Mrs. Holden spoke, she suddenly seemed to remember something, letting out a light sigh, genuine regret in her eyes.

"That daughter of Jean Ellison, Jesse, I truly like her. That child, so well-behaved and smart, with a handsome face, naturally endearing. If only she were a legitimate granddaughter of our Holden family, how wonderful it would be."

Upon hearing this, Zoe Holden raised her eyebrows, looking at her mother with a bit of casualness and puzzlement in her tone.

"Then why don’t you just have Justin marry Jean Ellison? That way Jesse would legitimately be your granddaughter. I think Justin has a bit of a soft spot for that mother and daughter pair."

Mrs. Holden’s smile disappeared instantly, her brows furrowed, her tone suddenly turning cold.

"Nonsense, Justin doesn’t have feelings for them. He was just being kind, seeing them as poor and pitiful, so he helped them out. These are two completely different things."

She let go of Zoe’s hand, straightening her posture, her expression serious.

"Liking that child is one thing; bringing her into our Holden family is another. That Jean Ellison, with her unclear background and criminal record, bringing along a child whose father is unknown. How could such a person possibly enter our Holden family? How could she possibly be worthy of Justin?"

Mrs. Holden’s tone was firm and final, marked by the inherent arrogance and prejudice of upper society.

"Jesse is an endearing child, but unfortunately, she was born into the wrong family. Our Holden family can give her some care, but her mother can never become a daughter-in-law of the Holden family. Don’t bring it up again in the future."

Zoe watched her mother’s instant change of expression, slightly pursing her lips, saying nothing more, but feeling somewhat amused and helpless inside.

She picked up the tablet again, casually swiping through the pages, gently moving past the topic.