CHAPTER 161: CHAPTER 161: SAPPHIRE NECKLACE

Jean Ellison avoided his deep, unfathomable gaze, turning slightly to the side, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor.

"It’s late, I should go back."

As she spoke, she turned to leave.

Just as she lifted her foot, Justin Holden suddenly stepped forward, his large hand shooting out to precisely grasp her wrist.

His palm was burning hot, in stark contrast to the icy aura surrounding him.

Jean looked up in shock, meeting Justin Holden’s eyes, which seemed especially deep on a snowy night.

"Why?" he stared at her, his voice low and husky, "Why come back to find him?"

He didn’t give her time to think, his tone carrying a piercing sharpness that was almost accusatory.

"He wasn’t a responsible father, where was he when Jesse was sick and had surgery?"

"When you gave birth to the child alone in prison, where was he during the toughest times?"

Jean’s heart was painfully clenched; these were questions she should have asked him.

The force and warmth on her wrist made her feel panic and a strange prickling sensation.

She tried to pull her hand back forcefully, but couldn’t break free.

In desperation, she lifted her head and met his gaze, her tone flat.

"No matter how bad he is, he’s still Jesse’s father."

The words hit Justin Holden’s heart like a heavy hammer.

All his doubts, all his anger, seemed to be stifled by this irrefutable statement.

What more could he say, on what grounds?

His fingers gripping her wrist trembled slightly from the effort, the veins on the back of his hand faintly showing.

He stared at her intensely, his gaze as complex as a sea before a storm.

After a few seconds of confrontation, in Jean’s stubborn and unyielding eyes, the dark emotions in Justin Holden’s eyes gradually subsided.

He slowly let go of her hand.

As the force disappeared, there was still the heat of his palm and a slight prickling sensation on her wrist.

Jean immediately withdrew her hand, hiding it behind her, her fingertips cold.

Justin Holden stepped back, reestablishing the distance between them, as the snowflakes immediately filled the brief void.

He averted his gaze, looking at the dark apartment building nearby, his voice returning to its usual coldness but much more somber.

"I live next door, at seventy-seven." He paused, adding, "You can come to me if there’s anything."

Jean rubbed her aching wrist without hesitation, her refusal crisp and clear.

"No need, Lawyer Holden."

She lifted her eyes, looking at him calmly, marking the boundary clearly, word by word.

"There’s nothing between us anymore."

With that, she no longer looked at him, turning to walk quickly towards the apartment entrance, pushing open the heavy glass door, her figure swiftly vanishing into the warm light inside.

Justin Holden stood still, unmoving, watching the door close behind her, cutting off his view.

Snowflakes fell on his slightly upturned face, bringing a cold touch.

His tall figure in the empty snow appeared particularly solitary.

Jean almost fled back into the apartment.

Leaning against the cold door panel, she could still hear her heart pounding wildly.

She slowly walked to the bedroom window, carefully lifting a corner of the curtain to look down.

He was still there.

Amid the flying snow, the dark figure stood under the streetlight.

As the snow fell harder, the dense snowflakes blurred the window, also blurring his outline.

She couldn’t see his expression, not even if he was still looking in this direction, only the stubborn, unmoving silhouette.

Jean felt something clog her chest, suffocating her with unease.

She quickly closed the curtain, isolating everything outside, as if trying to expel that figure from her mind completely.

She lay back on the bed, closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep.

But in the dark, the figure standing in the snow, his burning palm, his restrained questioning, his silent gaze as he let go, kept appearing.

After what felt like an eternity, she still couldn’t hold back, sitting up once more, barefoot, silently walking to the window.

She hesitated, then lifted a corner of the curtain again.

Outside, the streetlight still shone, casting a warm glow over the white expanse.

The snow was empty.

The dark figure had already vanished.

Only the flat snow remained, with a few lines of footprints mostly covered by new snow.

Jean stared at the empty space, her tense nerves suddenly relaxing, and she let out a long-held breath.

She dropped the curtain.

The next morning, the snow stopped, the sunlight shining on the gleaming white snow, a bit dazzling.

Diana Sawyer woke up early, looking at the snow-covered, somewhat slippery roads outside the window, she said to Aunt Mason, "Mom, it’s hard to walk today, I’ll accompany you to the hospital for your rheumatism check-up, and get some medicine."

Aunt Mason’s knee was still not doing well, so she nodded.

"That would be great, thank you."

Before leaving, Diana said to Jean, "I’ll take Mom to the hospital, it might take a while. Please take Jesse to the kindergarten."

Jean replied, "Sure, be careful on the road."

After they left, the apartment quieted down.

After tidying up the kitchen, Jean read for a while until almost noon when Jesse came out of the room rubbing his eyes, hugging her leg, and said softly, "Mommy, I’m hungry."

Jean checked the time; it was indeed almost lunchtime.

Diana and Aunt Mason hadn’t returned; they were probably delayed due to a busy hospital.

"I’ll make you some noodles, and after you eat, we’ll go to school, okay?" Jean said gently.

Jesse nodded obediently.

Jean went into the kitchen, boiled water, cooked noodles, cracked two eggs, and added a few greens.

A simple bowl of plain noodles, steaming hot, was placed in front of Jesse.

Jesse was hungry and ate quickly. Jean Ellison watched her eat, and feeling a bit hungry herself, used the remaining noodles to cook a bowl for herself.

However, she cooked her bowl a little too long, and the noodles turned mushy, almost clumping together.

After taking Jesse to kindergarten, Jean returned to her quiet apartment.

She sat at the dining table, looking at her bowl of noodles with almost no broth left, the strands sticking together, and picked up her chopsticks to eat slowly.

The noodles were soft and unappetizing, but she ate seriously, even feeling that the bland taste wasn’t too bad.

During those five years in prison, having a mouthful of hot, normal food had been a luxury.

When she first got out, everything she ate tasted like a delicacy.

This sense of cherishing food seemed to have continued to this day.

As she bent over to eat the bowl of almost cold, clumpy noodles, suddenly, her ears sensitively caught the sound of heavy and chaotic footsteps coming from the hallway outside.

The footsteps were unsteady, accompanied by indistinct humming or muttering, sounding especially clear in the silent corridor.

Jean’s heartbeat skipped a beat, instinctively softening her breathing.

She put down her chopsticks and tiptoed to the door, standing on her toes to look out through the peephole.

The view through the peephole was limited, and she saw a man wearing a dirty old coat, his hair messy, swaying in the hallway with a brown bottle of alcohol in hand.

His face was flushed, his eyes unfocused, clearly quite drunk.

He swayed in place, then started walking towards her direction.

Jean’s heart shot up to her throat, she held her breath, not daring to move, only able to pray in her heart that he was just passing by.

However, things did not go as she wished.

"Bang Bang Bang."

The knocking on the door suddenly rang out, violently pounding against the door, making the door panel tremble violently, sounding like it would give way the next second.

Jean stepped back in fright, her calf hitting the wooden leg of the dining table behind her, a sharp pain striking, causing her to let out a low cry.

This cry of pain seemed to provoke the man outside the door.

"Open up, open the door for me, do you hear?"

The drunk man roared unclearly, pounding on the door turned into banging with his body and kicking.

The sound of "Bang Bang Bang" became more violent, the door lock and hinges emitting metallic turning sounds.

Jean’s face turned pale, fear making her whole body tremble.

She endured the pain in her leg, stumbling to the side of the sofa, grabbing her phone, her fingers trembling so much she could barely hold it.

The first person she thought of was Diana Sawyer, she immediately dialed his number.

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

Perhaps the hospital environment was noisy, he didn’t hear it.

The banging outside became more frenzied, the edges of the door frame already beginning to splinter.

Just as she was about to dial the emergency number.

"Crash."

The old door eventually couldn’t withstand the violent impact, the lock broke, and the whole door was forcefully slammed open from the outside, hitting the inner wall hard, then bouncing back.

A man exuding a strong smell of alcohol and sweat swayed at the doorway.

The intoxicated man’s bloodshot eyes scanned the dim room quickly, finally landing on the young woman standing in the living room.

Seeing the laptop on the coffee table, he grabbed it, pressing a few buttons randomly. Finding no response, he cursed and threw it to the ground.

He opened the drawer of the TV cabinet, pouring out the contents with a clatter.

Jean huddled in the corner behind the sofa, covering her mouth tightly with both hands, not daring to make a sound, looking terrified as the intruder wreaked havoc in her temporary refuge.

She trembled all over, just hoping he would take something and leave quickly.

The drunk man searched through the obvious spots in the living room, finding nothing of value, becoming increasingly irritable and impatient.

He cursed foully, staggering towards the bedroom.

As he passed by an inconspicuous low cabinet in the corner, his eyes caught sight of a dark blue velvet box on top of the cabinet.

The box looked a bit old, but the material seemed quite exquisite.

The drunk man’s eyes lit up, and he reached out to grab the box, opening it roughly.

Inside the box, on a black cushion, lay a necklace. The chain was platinum, with an oval sapphire pendant, surrounded by a circle of tiny diamonds, reflecting a pure light even in the dim indoor lighting.

This necklace was out of place in the modest apartment.

When Jean saw the necklace revealed from the box, the fear she had been suppressing felt as if it was instantly overwhelmed by a stronger emotion.

She forgot about the danger, suddenly rushing out from the corner, screaming shrilly.

"No, you can’t touch that, give it back to me."

That was a graduation gift from her father.

She remembered clearly, the day before her father, Timothy Caldwell, jumped to his death, he had someone buy this necklace, the auctioneer handed her this box.

She never understood why, when the company was on the brink of bankruptcy, her father would use the remaining money to buy her such an expensive yet impractical gift.

Then, the next day, he chose to leap from a tall building.

This necklace was like a mystery.

She didn’t want this cold gemstone; she only wanted her father to be alive.

At this moment, seeing the drunk man’s filthy hands grasping the box, holding onto the last thing her father left her, Jean almost lost her mind.

She rushed up, trying to grab back the box.

"Get lost!"

The drunk man was enraged by her sudden action, impatiently waving his hand, pushing hard on her shoulder.

Jean, caught off guard, was pushed backward several steps by his great force, her waist hitting the edge of the dining table heavily, a wave of pain surging.

She let out a muffled groan, collapsing weakly to the ground.

The drunk man didn’t spare her a glance, tore the necklace from the box, randomly stuffing it into his pocket, mumbling about the valuable item, then swayed around, looking for other possible valuables in the room.

Jean sat slumped on the floor, the sharp pain from her waist and leg overshadowed by the wrenching pain in her heart.

She looked at the empty blue velvet box thrown on the floor, tears finally welled up uncontrollably.

She knew she should retrieve the necklace, but she had no courage to do so, that drunk man was incredibly strong, she was no match for him.