CHAPTER 161: CHAPTER 161: THE BOY IN THE WHEELCHAIR WAS ME

Blake Sinclair took her phone and saw the emails from Shannon Yarrow.

Each one was filled with cunning and misinformation.

The more he read, the darker his expression became.

He finally understood why Holly would be angry and misunderstand him.

The source of it all turned out to be this unbearable scheme.

"The person Shannon Yarrow is hugging in this photo isn’t me."

He suppressed his emotions, enlarged the photo taken on the balcony, and pointed at the man’s arm in the photo, "Look, there’s no mole on his arm."

Saying this, Blake Sinclair stretched out his own arm.

Sure enough, there was a black mole on the outside of his left arm.

Holly lowered her head to enlarge the photo, looked carefully again, and realized that the man’s profile indeed didn’t quite resemble Blake Sinclair.

But at the time, she was agitated and biased, without properly discerning.

And Shannon Yarrow knew exactly how to exploit that.

As she was recalling, a soft sigh came from above, "Holly, we’ve been married for so long, sharing a bed night after night, and you still mistook someone else for me?"

Blake Sinclair tugged at the hem of her clothes, "Am I that unrecognizable to you?"

As he said this, he leaned in closer, seemingly wanting her to take a better look.

Holly: "...."

She coughed unnaturally a couple of times to avoid making eye contact with him.

The righteousness in her heart diminished considerably, replaced by a tinge of guilt.

"Well... well, if the man in the photo isn’t you, then the one in this video must be, right?"

She pointed at the frontal face in the video, regaining some confidence.

Blake Sinclair opened another surveillance video, frowned when he saw Shannon Yarrow hugging him in it.

"Give me a moment."

He sent a message to Cole Tanner, and after a while, his phone vibrated.

"Holly, look, doesn’t it seem like this part of the video was spliced together?"

He played the video frame by frame slowly. When Shannon Yarrow pounced on Blake Sinclair, the screen paused and flickered, but it was a brief moment and not noticeable unless you looked for it.

In that second, Blake Sinclair in the video happened to lower his head, obscuring his face.

He compared the surveillance video sent by Cole Tanner with the one she had.

"The video Shannon Yarrow sent you was edited. The part with the person is not me. The video on my phone is the original. I backed away and pushed her away as soon as she came over."

Blake Sinclair admitted, "On the last afternoon of the Success shoot, she did come to see me, but I clearly told her not to disrupt our lives again. This was my oversight, allowing her to exploit it."

Blake Sinclair set the phone aside, gently turned Holly to face him, "Holly, I’ve never betrayed you—never have, never will."

He was evidently prepared, presenting all the evidence, videos, and photos, resolving all misunderstandings and relieving the knot in her heart.

Blake Sinclair knew her well, seeing her quietly sitting in his embrace now meant she believed him.

He held her hand, bringing her slowly closer.

His hand slowly moved up, rubbing her back through her clothes, coaxing, "Holly, since it’s all a misunderstanding, come stay with me tonight, okay? I haven’t been sleeping well these nights. I really miss you."

The man’s deep eyes swirled like a vortex, silently drawing her senses away.

Holly was enveloped in his love and tenderness, nearly surrendering to it.

But just before he could lay her on the sofa, she suddenly snapped back to reality.

"No... we can’t! Even if the photos and videos are fake, you still haven’t explained the things in the safe."

She pushed him away, adjusted her clothes, breathing erratically, "Don’t change the subject. When I know everything, I’ll consider moving back."

Blake Sinclair didn’t expect the little rabbit to be so clever.

Watching her nearly follow her heart into the trap but then regain clarity just in the nick of time, a wry smile crossed his eyes, mixed with a hint of appreciation.

"You said you met me ten years ago. What exactly is that about? And why do you have photos of me from my freshman year on your phone?"

She stared at him, questioning, cheeks puffed, turning from a naive, docile rabbit into a ruffled one.

Blake Sinclair patted her hair, soothingly, "So Holly, does that mean you’re agreeing to have dinner with me?"

Holly wanted to refuse, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Fine!"

She compromised, getting up and bustling toward the kitchen, "What do you want to eat? Let’s make it quick."

"In such a rush?" Blake Sinclair followed her into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

An empty fridge held only two eggs and four onions, nothing else.

Blake Sinclair: "Looks like we’ll need to make a trip to the market first."

Holly speechlessly looked up at the sky, following him out the door begrudgingly.

The market at Port Kallow is basically just a patch of wild stalls.

Every afternoon from three o’clock, vendors from nearby villages gather at the open space at the village entrance, forming a temporary market.

In Holly Crowe’s childhood, this was a very vivid memory, as many things in her room were sourced from there.

She didn’t expect that Blake Sinclair, who had only been around a short while, would also know this place. He even found a few regular stall owners effortlessly and chatted with them casually.

By the end of their walk, he’d been given almost a bundle of green onions.

Following behind him, Holly weaved through the market without feeling out of place.

The curiosity within her, once stirred, was now itching again.

"Blake," she pulled at his coat while he was engrossed in bargaining with an auntie, trying to pry some words out of him.

"Where did we meet ten years ago? When I was a freshman you were still in Brelond, surely the photo was sent to you by someone else?"

Blake had the auntie knock a bit off the price, then turned to her, answering irrelevantly, "How about braised pork ribs tonight?"

Holly: "..."

Does she look like someone who’s easily tempted by food?

He pointed to the nearby seafood stall, where fish and shrimp were energetically splashing in bright red buckets. "Would you like clams or shrimp?"

"You..."

Holly was fuming with his evasive attitude, baring her teeth, but she still honestly made a choice, "Clams, fried with some vermicelli and chili."

"Okay." Blake’s lips curved with a sly satisfaction.

Holly clicked her tongue inwardly, deeply doubting her willpower.

Beauty is deceiving, but food is even more so.

She could only blame Blake’s superb cooking skills.

The market grew busier, and Blake took her hand with one hand while carrying the purchased ingredients with the other.

Seeing his plentiful haul while she had none, Holly became a bit annoyed, just about to press him, when Blake suddenly turned to look at her.

His brows were furrowed, his expression somewhat serious.

Holly’s heart skipped a beat, thinking something serious had happened.

"Holly, the uncle selling beef hasn’t set up yet. Is it okay to use pork for the borscht? The texture might be a bit different."

"...."

Wow, what a grand issue.

The borscht might die in peace now.

After buying the ingredients and returning home, Blake donned an apron and went into the kitchen.

While washing the rice and boiling it, he tentatively asked, "Shall we invite my parents over for dinner as well? They should be back from school just in time."

Holly shot him a look that said ’don’t push your luck.’

From the kitchen came the familiar sounds of chopping and sizzling oil, reminiscent of the days at The Grandflora Gardens.

Blake cooking in the kitchen, while she waits in the living room to be fed.

But Holly knew that this surface calm was just that; who knows what kind of truth awaited them after dinner.

Once the dinner was served, the doubts that Holly had had were all forgotten in front of the dishes.

From childhood, Director Lennon had instilled in her the belief that "seasonings are harmful to the body," so at home they would steam foods whenever possible, never braising or stir-frying if they could boil instead.

Their family’s oil was always pressed from rapeseed, and aside from sugar, salt, and soy sauce, there were almost no other seasonings.

Her classmates often complained about the school’s food being unpalatable, but to Holly, it was like a "state banquet"!

These past days at home eating Director Lennon’s "Chinese health white person meals," she felt like life had nothing to look forward to.

Now, she just wanted to eat something with zero naturalness and pure additives.

After the meal, Holly was almost taken aback.

Feeling full and rationality returning, it was time to get to the heart of the matter.

She assumed a negotiating posture, looking at the man across from her who was watching her with a smile.

"Dinner’s over, now can you tell me why you said we met ten years ago? Also, what’s the deal with that safe?"

Blake looked at the woman who switched faces so quickly before and after meals, smiling indulgently.

What’s meant to come will come; some things can’t be avoided.

He leaned forward slightly, gazing into her eyes full of curiosity and inquiry.

"Holly, do you remember the boy in the wheelchair you helped at Orbital Park ten years ago?"

"Of course."

"That person was me."

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