CHAPTER 156: CHAPTER 156: LOVER

Justin Holden stood still, rainwater running down his stern face, soaking his expensive suit.

He watched Diana Sawyer holding Jean Ellison’s wrist, leading her towards the building entrance in a protective manner.

Jean Ellison didn’t even glance back at him.

His fingers slowly clenched at his side, knuckles turning white from the pressure while his chest heaved, but ultimately, he did not chase after them.

The black sedan silently glided to a stop beside him, the driver getting out with an umbrella, carefully opening the door for him.

Justin Holden stood for a few seconds, before finally bending down and getting into the car, the door closing shut.

When Diana Sawyer brought Jean Ellison back to the apartment, Aunt Mason was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

Hearing the door open, she poked her head out and was surprised to see her son and Jean coming back together, still carrying the dampness on them.

"Dylan? Why are you back so early today?" Aunt Mason asked, wiping her hands.

Diana Sawyer hung up his wet coat, speaking in a casual tone, "Nothing urgent at the office, so I came back early."

He paused, adding, "Mom, no need to cook tonight, I’ve ordered some delivery – pizza and pasta, Jesse should like it."

Jean Ellison lowered her head and changed into her slippers, softly saying, "I’ll go change first," and hurried into her bedroom.

Her heart was still pounding; Justin Holden’s cold, angry eyes and Diana Sawyer’s unexpected protection flashed alternately in her mind.

After a while, Jean came out in dry clothes and wanted to get a glass of water in the kitchen.

She was uneasy, and when she picked up the kettle, she slipped her hand, spilling scalding hot water and burning the back of her hand.

She cried out in pain, nearly dropping the cup.

"Careful." Diana Sawyer’s voice came from nearby.

He quickly came over, took the cup from her hands, set it on the table, then swiftly opened the refrigerator to take out some ice, wrapped it in a clean towel, and handed it to her.

"Put this on."

Jean took the ice-wrapped towel, pressing it against her red and swollen hand, speaking softly, "Thank you, I’m okay."

Diana Sawyer looked at her, her frightened state, where even pouring water burned her, and after a moment of silence, he asked, "Miss Ellison, how do you know Justin Holden?"

His voice wasn’t loud, but Aunt Mason in the kitchen just happened to hear the name "Justin Holden."

She suddenly turned around, still holding a spatula, her face full of surprise.

"Justin Holden? Miss, wasn’t he your boyfriend before? You’ve met again?"

Jean’s body tensed slightly, nodding with difficulty under Diana Sawyer’s calm yet probing gaze and Aunt Mason’s surprised look, her voice dry, "Yes, we just ran into each other outside."

She took a deep breath, adding, "But we broke up long ago."

"Broke up?" Diana Sawyer’s eyebrows furrowed as he recalled Justin Holden’s strong and unrelenting stance by the car earlier.

"If you’ve broken up, then why does he still..."

He chose his words carefully, "seem unwilling to let go?"

Jean lowered her head, looking at her hand wrapped in ice, not knowing how to explain this complicated situation.

Aunt Mason, even more puzzled, took a few steps closer, speaking urgently.

"Miss, what’s this all about? Didn’t you love Young Master Holden a lot before?"

"You went through so much for him, now you’re out, since you met, why not reunite with him?"

"Right, maybe Young Master Holden didn’t recognize you, Miss. In prison, you’ve lost so much weight."

"Can’t reunite."

Jean suddenly lifted her head, her voice agitated, looking at Aunt Mason and then at Diana Sawyer, her eyes filled with fear and pleading.

"We absolutely cannot let Justin Holden know I am Claire Caldwell, and certainly can’t let him know Jesse’s paternity."

Aunt Mason was stunned: "Why, Miss, could it be that Jesse is..."

Tears welled up in Jean’s eyes, and she bit her lip hard, barely holding back her tears.

She looked at the only two people she could trust, finally speaking her deepest fear aloud.

"Aunt Mason, Mr. Sawyer, Jesse is Justin Holden’s daughter."

This sentence hit the quiet kitchen like a thunderclap.

Aunt Mason covered her mouth in shock, and a look of extreme astonishment flashed in Diana Sawyer’s eyes.

Jean’s voice shook, filled with despair.

"If Justin Holden finds out, the Holden family will certainly come to take the child away. They won’t let Jesse stay with me."

"The Holden family is large and powerful, and Justin Holden is such an accomplished lawyer. I have no means to keep Jesse, I can’t compete with them."

She took a step forward, tightly grasping Aunt Mason’s hand like clutching onto the last straw for survival, tears finally falling.

"Aunt Mason, Mr. Sawyer, I beg you, please keep this secret. Don’t let Justin Holden know that Jesse is his daughter, and certainly don’t let him know that I am Jean Ellison, I beg you."

She sobbed uncontrollably, her body slightly trembling from fear and dread.

The kitchen was silent, only her stifled sobs and the gentle patter of rain in the background.

Aunt Mason held her with a pained heart, comforting her repeatedly.

Diana Sawyer stood aside, looking at the devastated and helpless Jean, his brows knitted tightly, eyes deep with complex and indistinct emotions.

This sudden secret clearly went beyond his initial expectations.

Justin Holden returned to his temporary apartment, always feeling that Jean Ellison and Jesse were next door, separated by just a wall, he could even hear their voices.

Illusion, it must be an illusion.

The rain-soaked suit was tossed casually onto the single-seater sofa.

He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a large glass of whiskey, and downed it in one go.

The liquor burned his throat, but his eyebrows didn’t move, as if he was already accustomed to it.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, his voice sounding particularly deep due to alcohol and suppressed rage.

"I want all the information on Diana Sawyer, as detailed as possible."

The person on the other end was very efficient.

In less than half an hour, a concise profile on Diana Sawyer was sent to his inbox.

Justin Holden sat at the desk, opened his laptop, and the cold light from the screen shone upon his expressionless face.

He skimmed through quickly.

Educational background, professional experience... Then his gaze froze on the section about marital status.

The marital status showed married, registered six years ago, the spouse’s name written in English as Phoebe, with a registered origin from Pullen City.

No photograph, she seemed to be a very mysterious woman.

Six years ago.

Justin’s pupils contracted suddenly. That was the year before Claire Caldwell went to prison.

Phoebe, a common English name, reveals nothing.

Origin Pullen City.

If he remembered correctly, Jean Ellison mentioned her hometown was in Mount Pullen.

Jean Ellison was married to Dylan before she went to prison.

Therefore, the child she had in prison was Dylan’s.

After getting out, she tried every means possible to return to the United States.

It’s not about starting over; it’s about bringing Jesse back to her husband, letting the child be near his father.

So today, when Dylan appeared downstairs at the company with that declaration of sovereignty, that phrase, wasn’t it obvious, now it all made sense.

"Bang."

A muffled sound.

The thick-bottomed glass in Justin’s hand was crushed forcefully with his bare hand.

The amber liquid mingled with the fresh red blood seeped through his fingers, dripping onto the expensive light carpet, spreading into a mess of dark red.

Glass shards embedded deeply into his palm, sending sharp pain.

Yet he seemed oblivious, just stared at the cold words on the screen, his gaze fierce and terrifying.

He didn’t care about his bleeding hand, not even glancing at it.

He directly picked up the bottle on the desk, poured another mouthful down.

Alcohol mixed with the taste of blood, stimulating his senses.

He tore off the already slackened tie, threw it to the ground.

He unbuttoned several buttons of his shirt collar, revealing his distinct clavicle and a small portion of his firm chest.

His breathing, due to alcohol and emotion, became somewhat heavy, his chest gently rising and falling.

He continued drinking, one bottle of whiskey was soon empty.

His gaze began to blur, but the cold rage within him did not diminish.

Drunkenness surged, the dam of rationality was collapsing.

He picked up his phone, his fingers clumsily sliding open the screen amidst blood and alcohol, finding that familiar number and dialing it.

The phone rang for a long time, no one answered.

He stubbornly dialed again.

This time, after a while, he received a brief text message.

"The child is already asleep, not convenient to take calls."

Looking at the message, Justin twisted his lips, letting out a low, hoarse chuckle.

Of course, at this time, the child was definitely asleep.

They, the family of three, must have already rested.

What did he amount to? A drunk, untimely intruder disturbing another family’s harmony.

He could almost see the warm scene, Diana Sawyer, Jean Ellison, and their lovely daughter, they formed a complete world.

While he, Justin Holden, was merely a ridiculous outsider, a lover who dared to call another’s wife after drunkenness at midnight.

This realization felt like the most pungent satire, causing a dull pain in his chest.

He eyed the message for a few seconds without responding.

Bloodstains from his fingertips left smudged prints on the phone screen.

He raised his arm, casually throwing the phone away.

The phone hit the soft carpet, making a muffled sound, the screen dimmed.

He leaned back against the sofa, raising his injured hand, pressing the back of it against his forehead.

Blood trickled down his wrist, staining his stern brow ridge and slightly flushed eye rims, leaving marks of both disgrace and danger on his cold face.

The shirt collar open, exposing the strong chest lines, swelled with his slightly erratic breathing.

The alcohol softened his hard contours slightly, yet added a kind of decadent and sexy tension.

He closed his eyes, his thick lashes casting shadows below his eyelids, tightly pressed lips, the entire person sunk into the sofa, like a beast injured, licking its wounds alone, exuding a dangerously alluring charm.

The apartment was very quiet, the lights dim, the tall man lay on a single sofa, breathing heavily, the air filled with a strong smell of alcohol and faint scent of blood.