CHAPTER 85: CHAPTER 85: A SPECIAL FLAVOR

Jean Ellison came out of the bedroom, her long hair loosely tied into a bun, giving her a gentle appearance.

She sat at the dining table, carefully adding a small piece of soft-braised ribs to Jesse’s bowl, along with a few pieces of glistening yam.

Jesse’s cheeks were puffed with food, his little face slightly smeared with sauce, his voice muffled.

"Mommy and Uncle Holden’s cooking is so delicious."

He patted his round little belly with his small hand, his tone full of pride.

"I ate until my belly is round."

Jean looked at his adorable demeanor, a trace of warmth appearing in her otherwise cool eyes. She pulled out a wet wipe from the side and wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth.

"Eat slowly."

Justin Holden sat across from them, eating silently.

The sweet and sour yam was well-balanced in flavor, the sauce rich and lingering.

The pickled cabbage ribs were cooked to the perfect tenderness, with a pleasing sour taste that stimulated appetite, and the ribs were tender and falling off the bone.

These two very common dishes slowed his chewing gradually.

The taste was too familiar.

It wasn’t the uniform taste from a common cookbook but rather a personalized seasoning habit and timing control.

Especially the ratio of the sweet and sour sauce, the balance of sourness and sweetness, almost merged with that deep-seated memory.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze falling on Jean’s busy figure while she took care of Jesse, his eyes deep, emotions roiling within, difficult to discern.

He put down his chopsticks, his voice sounding flat as if commenting casually.

"This sweet and sour yam has a very special taste."

Jean’s hand, which was serving soup for Jesse, paused for a moment. She didn’t look up immediately, continued to place the soup bowl in front of Jesse, then turned her face towards Justin, her expression calm, her tone distant and courteous.

"I found it casually online."

Her voice was calm, without any ripples.

"I learned from various sources, tried recipes from several bloggers, sometimes making the same dish twice, the taste would differ slightly each time."

As she spoke, she also picked up a piece of yam, naturally sending it into her mouth to chew carefully.

"This time, there was a bit more vinegar, and the sugar wasn’t cooked at the right heat."

Justin’s gaze remained on her face, not moving away.

The taste she made was just a coincidence; next time, it might be different.

He didn’t ask further, picking up the chopsticks beside him again, silently continuing to eat.

The knock on the door came shortly after dinner ended.

Jean was tidying up the dishes, while Justin went to open the door.

Standing outside was a middle-aged man with dark skin, dressed in work clothes.

He held an old-fashioned scale in his hand, his voice resonant.

"Sir, you made the appointment for the junk collection, right? Said there was a cabinet to deal with?"

Justin stepped aside to let him in, his eyes scanning towards Jean at the kitchen doorway.

"Yes, in the master bedroom, follow me."

Jean paused in her actions, watching Justin leading a man collecting junk straight to the master bedroom.

She frowned slightly in confusion, placing the dishes into the dishwasher.

Soon, the middle-aged man carried a solid wood low cabinet out of the bedroom, and Jean glanced over, stunned.

Justin’s gaze fell on her face, noting her change in expression.

Jean stepped out from the kitchen, her expression unchanged, stepping forward voluntarily to help support one corner of the cabinet, avoiding bumping into the door frame.

Her movements were natural, and she looked up to ask Justin.

"How much... did you sell it for? It seems quite valuable."

Justin watched her calm face, a hint of doubt flashing deep in his eyes, his tone flat as he replied, "No money."

Jean’s gaze froze for a moment.

Justin continued, his voice cold.

"It’s just taking up space, and if he takes it away, it saves me from calling someone else to clear it."

Jean felt a block in her chest, her fingers slightly tightening around the cabinet corner, knuckles turning white.

Her face still maintained an indifferent expression, nodding slightly in agreement with his words.

"Yes, it’s indeed taking up space and doesn’t match the style of the furnishings in your room."

The gift she had carefully chosen, in his eyes, ultimately was just something taking up space, which could be casually moved or even needed monetary compensation to be dealt with as junk.

She stood by the doorway, silently watching the junk collector struggle to move the low cabinet out the door towards the elevator, Justin following behind as if about to see him off.

When the elevator door opened and closed, Jean stood in place, unable to maintain her forced calm any longer, moisture welled up uncontrollably in her eyes.

She blinked quickly, forcing back the moisture in her eyes, turned back to the kitchen, and opened the faucet, letting the sound of rushing water mask her slightly quickened breathing.

The spot on her chest with the burn began to faintly ache again.

Downstairs, the junk collector was struggling to move the low cabinet onto a tricycle.

Justin stood at the lobby door, watching with a calm gaze, lost in thought.

Suddenly, a car sped over, coming to an abrupt stop by the roadside.

The car door opened, and Samual Pryce rushed out, jogging over and repeatedly shouting, "Wait, sir, wait a moment, I’ll take this."

The junk collector froze, holding the cabinet with a puzzled look.

Samual Pryce, panting, pulled a few hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and shoved them into the man’s hand.

"I’m troubling you, sir, I want this piece, here’s the money for you, thank you for bringing it down from upstairs."

The junk collector looked at the money in his hand, then at the old cabinet. Though puzzled, he was naturally willing when there was money to be made, and he willingly helped move the low cabinet off the tricycle.

Samual Pryce looked at the low cabinet in front of him, sighing in relief for having caught up in time.

He lifted his eyes, looking at Justin who had been standing silently nearby, his tone filled with confusion and urgency.

"What are you up to, wasn’t this cabinet something you cherished, didn’t even let anyone touch it, why suddenly get rid of it and ask me to stop it and move it to the law firm?"

He spoke while struggling to fit the low cabinet into the trunk of his car, muttering, "I was in the middle of a meeting... rushed here upon receiving your message, luckily I wasn’t delayed..."

Justin did not answer his questions, just watched Samual Pryce as he placed the cabinet into the trunk, his gaze deep.

Samual Pryce finally managed to fit the cabinet inside, closed the trunk door, dusted off his hands, still somewhat puzzled, and turned to Justin saying.

"Alright, I’ll help you store it at the law firm for now."

He shook his head, turning to get into the car and leave.

Justin stood where he was, watching the car disappear at the intersection ahead, as if pondering something.

She truly seemed unaware of what these things were and even inquired about how much they were sold for, helping in moving the cabinet as well.

Is she really Jean Ellison? Why are there so many similarities with Claire Caldwell?

"Check for me, has anyone recently been investigating the old Caldwell family case."

"Also, I want to know why Jean Ellison was sentenced, and I want to see her file on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

He made a phone call, simply instructing a few words, then hung up the phone.