CHAPTER 160: CHAPTER 160: THE DECEASED WIFE

Jean Ellison put down her chopsticks and said softly, "I feel a bit stuffy, I’m going to the balcony for some air."

She didn’t look at anyone, got up, and left the dining table.

As she pushed open the glass door, a wave of cold air greeted her.

Outside, it had begun to snow at some point.

Glistening snowflakes quietly drifted down from the pitch-black sky, swirling in the glow of the streetlights below, like startled silver moths.

This was the first snow of the year in New York.

Snowflakes gently landed on the balcony railing, quickly forming a thin layer that reflected the warm light from inside the house.

The rooftops and streets in the distance also began to be dusted with white, as if the whole world had been muted, leaving only the low moan of the wind brushing past the buildings.

Jean Ellison gazed at the snowy night scene, and her thoughts unwittingly drifted back to that New Year’s Eve many years ago.

It was also such a cold day, with snow falling just like this.

She had spent the entire afternoon learning to make dumplings with Aunt Mason, her hands covered in flour, and though the dumplings she made were crooked, her heart was full of joy.

She remembered wearing just a thin coat without even a scarf, running out with that thermal box, only wanting Justin Holden to taste them.

He came downstairs, bundled in a thick down jacket, watching her shiver in the snow.

She opened the box as if presenting a treasure, the steam fogging his glasses.

He tasted only one, frowned, pushed the box back to her, and told her to go back inside because it was cold outside.

Perhaps he never really liked anything she did.

No, more accurately, maybe he never liked her as a person.

She was foolish not to see his disdain at the time, thinking it was because she hadn’t done well enough.

She hadn’t expected that after all these years, he would recognize Aunt Mason the moment he walked through the door today.

Even more unexpected was that he remembered the taste of Aunt Mason’s dumplings.

Was it the taste he remembered, or was it her, awkwardly clutching the dumplings in the snowy night?

As soon as this thought emerged, she harshly suppressed it.

Stop being delusional, Jean.

The snow was falling harder now.

No longer tiny flakes, but sheets of snow, swirling down in the wind.

The cold penetrated through her thin sweater, into her skin, and she instinctively hugged her arms tightly.

So cold.

Unlike that New Year’s Eve filled with fiery passion, where she felt no chill, she now clearly felt every ounce of cold.

Suddenly, there was a weight on her shoulder; a thick, warm men’s coat was draped over her, shielding her from the cold wind.

The coat was imbued with the clean, faint scent belonging to Dylan Sawyer.

She turned her head.

Dylan Sawyer had come to the balcony at some point and was standing right behind her.

"It’s snowing, let’s go inside," his voice was steady in the wind and snow. "Standing here, you’ll catch a cold."

His actions were natural, his gaze purely concerned, without a hint of impropriety.

Jean Ellison clutched the coat carrying his warmth, whispering, "Thank you."

This scene was perfectly captured by Justin Holden, who was just preparing to leave from inside.

He stood at the junction of the living room and balcony, viewing the two standing side by side through the glass door.

Snowflakes danced around them, and the streetlight outlined Jean’s slightly upturned face as she looked at Dylan Sawyer, along with that hint of.

It appeared relaxed, perhaps even carrying a faint smile.

Justin Holden’s brows furrowed, a strong sense of confusion and inexplicable irritation welling up within him.

What was she happy about?

He knew her background well.

A woman who had just been released from prison, bearing an indelible stigma.

Her husband, Dylan Sawyer, had been indifferent during her imprisonment, even when their child underwent critical surgery, he remained an outsider, unconcerned.

And now, just because this cold and indifferent man, absent when she most needed him, gave her a coat and offered some trivial words of concern, was enough for her to show such a smile?

She had never smiled at him like that.

He looked at the unmistakably Dylan Sawyer’s large coat on her, watching her smile for another man, feeling a surge of inexplicable anger.

He couldn’t understand.

Dylan Sawyer seemed to sense the gaze from behind, turned around, meeting Justin Holden’s inscrutable eyes through the glass door.

Dylan nodded slightly at Justin Holden, a form of greeting, then naturally placed a light hand on Jean’s back, suggesting they go inside together.

Jean also noticed Justin Holden standing inside, her smile instantly vanished, replaced by a fleeting panic.

Her reaction seemed, in Justin Holden’s eyes, as though he had disturbed the couple’s private moment.

Without expression, Justin Holden watched them walk back into the living room, one behind the other.

His gaze lingered on Jean’s coat for a moment before looking away, and he smoothly said to Dylan Sawyer, "President Sawyer, it’s getting late, I won’t intrude on your rest any further. Thank you for tonight’s hospitality."

"Lawyer Holden, you’re too kind, take care," Dylan Sawyer replied courteously.

Justin Holden said no more, turned to the entrance, put on his coat, opened the door, and left.

The sound of the door closing resonated in the silent living room.

The weight on Jean’s shoulder seemed to disappear in an instant, or perhaps, another heavier pressure had descended.

She took off the thick coat and handed it back to Dylan Sawyer: "Thank you for the coat."

Dylan received it, still gentle in tone: "It’s no trouble. The temperature’s dropping tonight, don’t catch a cold."

At this moment, Aunt Mason returned with Jesse.

The little girl was flushed from playing, delighted to see her mother.

But Jean felt no warmth at all. The last cold gaze from Justin Holden, and his unhesitating departure, like the wind and snow outside the window, left a chill deep within her heart.

She didn’t understand why he looked at her like that, as if she had done something unforgivable.

She just wanted to protect herself and her daughter, that’s all.

The snow outside the window was still falling, covering the streets, rooftops, and all traces.

The night in New York, because of this sudden early snow, seemed exceptionally quiet and cold.

Jean Ellison lay in bed, tossing and turning.

Everything that had happened during the day and the cold look from Justin Holden kept replaying in her mind, leaving her sleepless.

She decided to get up, put on a coat, and gently pushed open the bedroom door, intending to go to the living room for a glass of water.

As she passed the entrance, she inadvertently glanced outside and suddenly stopped in her tracks.

Across the street downstairs, under the dim glow of the streetlight, amidst the flurries of snow, stood a familiar figure.

Justin Holden was wearing a knee-length dark black cashmere coat, standing tall like a pine.

Snowflakes silently fell, landing on his thick black short hair, and accumulated as a thin layer of white on his broad shoulders.

He just stood there quietly, with his back to the apartment building, looking at the end of the deserted street, like a frozen statue.

Jean Ellison stood in the shadows behind the window, quietly watching his back.

The light of the snow and streetlamp outlined his clear and stern silhouette.

She suddenly felt that time seemed to have left no trace on him.

He was almost identical to the young man who had pushed away her lunchbox on a snowy night a few years ago, just as distant and inscrutable.

At that moment, Justin Holden seemed to sense something, suddenly turned around, and looked up precisely at her window.

Their gazes collided through the cold glass and the curtain of snow, catching her off guard.

Jean’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively wanted to retreat and hide.

"Reporter Ellison."

His voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried a peculiar penetrative power, clearly reaching her ears, cutting through the silent snowy night.

Jean’s movements froze. She took a deep breath, opened the glass door leading to the small balcony, and stepped out.

The cold air instantly enveloped her, and she pulled her coat tighter around her.

"Lawyer Holden," her voice seemed somewhat thin in the cold night, "I’m not a reporter anymore."

Justin Holden stood in the snow, looking at her with a calm gaze, snowflakes falling on his long eyelashes and quickly melting.

He corrected himself, his voice low.

"Jean Ellison."

He called her name, and it sounded particularly clear in this snowy night.

Jean looked up at him with some surprise.

He rarely called her by her full name, especially in moments that seemed so peaceful.

"I have something to ask you."

Justin continued, his tone calm but with an undeniable firmness.

Jean’s mind rang with alarm, but she tried her best to maintain her composure.

"What does Lawyer Holden want to ask?"

Justin’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment, as if searching for some flaw in her subtle expressions.

He spoke, the question directly hitting the core: "How do you know Diana Sawyer?"

Without waiting for Jean to answer, he clearly laid out the information he had gathered.

"As far as I know, you have never left Kingswell City in the past."

"And Diana Sawyer, for the past few years, has been studying and working in the United States."

"The chances for your paths to intersect are nearly impossible."

The cold wind mixed with snowflakes blew past, and Jean felt her cheeks sting from the cold.

Her brain raced, forcing herself to calm down.

She couldn’t panic.

"We were introduced by someone," Jean began, her voice as steady as possible, "We indeed lived apart for a long time."

She slightly lowered her eyelids, as if reminiscing, her speech neither too fast nor too slow.

"The person who introduced us was Claire Caldwell, Miss Caldwell."

She looked up at Justin Holden, her eyes carrying a touch of appropriate nostalgia and sadness for her lost friend.

"Aunt Mason was a very important person to Miss Caldwell, almost like her godmother."

"And I was friends with Miss Caldwell, so through this relationship, I naturally came to know Dylan, and later we got together."

She paused, as if making a decision, and added, "Moreover, we are already married."

After speaking, she closely observed Justin Holden’s reaction, her heart beating nervously in her chest.

Justin listened, but his face showed no surprise.

Snowflakes landed on his shoulders, and he looked at Jean quietly for a few seconds before slowly speaking, his tone calmly stating.

"I know."

Jean frowned, looking at him in confusion.

Justin’s gaze was deep, as if he could see into her heart.

He clearly stated, every word landing on Jean’s tense nerves.

"The name you registered to marry Diana Sawyer is Phoebe, I know all of this."

Jean’s breath caught, and her blood seemed to suddenly run cold.

She opened her mouth, but couldn’t produce any sound.

Phoebe, that was the name of Dylan’s deceased wife.

She looked at Justin in the snow, who stood there, much taller than her, looking down into her eyes, as if seeing through everything.

The snow continued to fall silently.

Snowflakes drifted down, landing at Jean’s feet, landing on his shoulders.