CHAPTER 187: CHAPTER 187: I’M YOUR BROTHER, JEAN

Justin Holden looked at his mother and calmly retorted.

"Didn’t you like Jesse as well? Last time at home, you played with her for a long time."

Mrs. Holden paused, lifted her chin, and spoke with an air of condescension.

"Yes, I do like Jesse."

"I like all those well-behaved kids out there."

"But that’s because I want a biological grandson, a biological granddaughter. I’m not asking you to have a son for the Holden family. A granddaughter would be fine. I’d be just as happy, as long as it’s of Holden blood."

Justin fell silent for a moment, then spoke, "Mom, you already have a grandson. Arthur carries the Holden blood, doesn’t he?"

Arthur is Zoe Holden’s son, and his last name is Hale.

"That’s different!"

Mrs. Holden immediately retorted, her tone agitated.

"Your sister’s child is named Hale. He’s a grandson of the Hale family. Only your child can be added to our Holden family genealogy, inherit your father’s company, and continue the Holden bloodline."

Justin’s eyes darkened, his voice lowered.

"Mom, you know, even a child of mine has no ties to the Holden family."

Mrs. Holden’s face turned ashen, her finger trembling as she pointed at Justin, filled with extreme pain and anger.

"You... how can you say such things."

"Justin Holden, your father and I raised you to this day, and this is how you repay us? This is rebellion!"

Justin lowered his eyes, hiding the complexity in his gaze, his voice flat.

"Mom, I don’t intend to be rebellious."

"I just want to tell you, Jesse could also be your biological granddaughter."

"As long as you’re willing to accept it, the media won’t know anything. She can take the last name Holden, call you Grandma."

"Don’t say any more!"

Mrs. Holden quickly cut him off, her chest rising and falling violently, clearly furious.

"I don’t agree, I will never agree."

She took a deep breath, as if making some determination, her eyes resolute.

"Fine, fine, Justin Holden, you insist on staying here, right?"

"Fine, you just stay here then. Your father’s company will be inherited by the child in Leah Sutton’s belly. I’ll just pretend... just pretend I never gave birth to you."

After saying that, she glared fiercely at Jean Ellison, who was standing silently by the side, and turned to leave.

Jean’s lips moved, wanting to say something.

Mrs. Holden, as if having eyes on her back, stopped in her tracks, her voice cold and harsh without turning back.

"Things between my son and I are none of your business."

Jean was choked by her words, her face turning pale.

Mrs. Holden pulled open the door and walked out quickly.

Jean watched Mrs. Holden’s resolute back, then looked at Justin, who stood in place with a dark complexion, bit her teeth, and suddenly pushed away from Justin, chasing after her.

Justin instinctively wanted to follow.

"Don’t follow!"

Jean turned back, shouted at him, and quickly ran towards the elevator.

Mrs. Holden was about to enter the elevator, when she heard footsteps, turned around, and saw Jean chasing after her, her brows furrowed, her face undisguised disgust.

"Why are you chasing me? What else do you have to say?"

Jean rushed to her, panting slightly because she ran fast. She

looked at Mrs. Holden, trying to keep her tone calm: "Mrs. Holden, I want... to talk to you."

Mrs. Holden looked her up and down, her gaze contemptuous.

"Talk? What is there to talk about between us? Say it right here."

Jean pressed her lips, looked Mrs. Holden in the eye, and spoke: "I can persuade Justin to go home, I can also let him return to Leah Sutton and her unborn child."

Mrs. Holden was surprised by this, looking at Jean with suspicion.

"Just you? Aren’t you fond of Justin Holden?"

"You went to great lengths to keep him here, and now you say such things? Are you willing?"

Jean lowered her eyelashes, avoiding Mrs. Holden’s scrutinizing gaze, her voice low.

"I don’t have the energy to think about who to like or fall in love with. I have a daughter, and I just want to live quietly with her, without getting involved in any trouble."

"I was in prison for five years, five years without seeing my daughter. You’re a mother too, you can understand my feelings."

"How could I neglect my daughter to think about romantic affairs."

Mrs. Holden stared at her for a few seconds, seemingly assessing the truth of her words.

After a while, she let out a cold snort, her tone slightly softened, but still in a superior posture.

"Fine then. If you can really do it, get him to obediently go home and take responsibility for Leah Sutton and the child."

"I will give you some money, enough for you and your daughter to leave here and live comfortably for the rest of your lives."

Jean raised her head, shook it, her gaze calm: "I’m not doing it for money."

Mrs. Holden looked at her without saying anything, clearly looking disbelieving.

She gave Jean one last glance, turned around, and stepped into the elevator just as it arrived.

Jean stood in place, watching the numbers on the elevator display decrease before she slowly turned around.

As she turned, she met Justin’s deep, cold eyes.

Justin stood not far off in the shadow of the hallway, it was unclear how long he had been there.

His face was gloomy, emitting an intimidating aura, clearly having heard everything she and Mrs. Holden discussed just now.

Jean’s heart tightened, her mouth opened, wanting to explain something.

"Justin Holden, I..."

Justin didn’t give her a chance to continue speaking.

He strode past her, his steps heavy and hurried, causing the hem of his trench coat to whip up a gust of cold wind.

He didn’t glance at her, nor did he stop; he headed straight for the apartment door, opened it, went inside, and slammed the door shut with a "bang."

He was angry.

Jean Ellison stood in front of the door for a moment, then took a deep breath and unlocked the door with her key.

Jesse wasn’t playing; instead, she was sitting on the living room carpet, holding a doll, and looking at her with wide, clear, yet slightly anxious eyes.

Seeing her mom come in, she immediately ran over, hugged Jean’s leg, and asked softly, "Mommy, why doesn’t Grandma Holden like me? Aren’t I Daddy’s child?"

Jean’s heart trembled. She knelt down, wrapping her daughter’s soft little body in her arms, her voice as calm and gentle as she could make it.

"Nobody dislikes Jesse. Jesse is so adorable; everyone would like Jesse."

She gently patted her daughter’s back and explained, "Grandma Holden is Uncle Holden’s mother. All moms in the world love their children the most, just like Mommy loves Jesse the most. That’s why Grandma Holden wants to take Uncle Holden home; it’s a mother’s love for her child, understand?"

Jesse nodded, half-understanding, "I see..."

Jean kissed her forehead and said softly, "Yes, Jesse, don’t overthink it. Go play, and Mommy will make lunch for you in a while."

"Okay." Jesse responded obediently, holding the doll and running back to the carpet.

Jean watched her daughter’s back and sighed lightly.

She went to the sofa and sat down, feeling somewhat weary.

Soon, the doorbell rang.

Jean got up to open the door and saw Philip Paxton standing outside, holding several full shopping bags of fresh vegetables, meat, and fruit.

"Officer Paxton?" Jean was a bit surprised.

Philip smiled, as gentle as always.

"I heard from Isabel that you guys are back. I just got off work, so I came to check on you. I bought some groceries. Let me cook."

As he spoke, he naturally stepped in, changed shoes, and then carried the bags straight to the kitchen.

Jean watched his skilled movements in the kitchen, washing, chopping, lighting the stove—swift actions.

She recalled what Isabel said before and felt a bit uneasy inside.

She had always thought that Philip was kind to her, helped her, just because he was kind-hearted, felt sorry for her, and besides, out of his sense of duty as a police officer.

They had known each other for five years, from her imprisonment until now, Philip had indeed always been by her side, helping her, taking care of her as a cousin.

She seemed to really never have seen any intimate woman by Philip’s side.

He’s almost thirty, right? He’ll be thirty next year.

She just watched, somewhat lost in thought.

Until Philip came out of the kitchen with two dishes and a soup, placed them on the dining table, and called her, "Jean, it’s time to eat."

Jean came back to her senses, walked to the table, and sat down, "Okay."

During the meal, Jean seemed a bit distracted, pushing the rice around in her bowl with her chopsticks, but eating only a few bites.

Philip noticed, put down his chopsticks, and looked at her, "Jean, do you have something on your mind?"

Jean looked up, meeting Philip’s eyes, her gaze complicated.

She was silent for a few seconds and then asked, "Officer Paxton, why do you still come by?"

Philip was taken aback.

Jean continued, her voice very light.

"Didn’t Officer Dalton tell you? Last night, Justin Holden stayed overnight here."

Philip’s hand that held the chopsticks tightened briefly.

He lowered his eyes, looking at the dishes on the table, and after a moment, said softly, "I know, Isabel told me everything."

"Then why do you still come by?"

Jean pressed further, her tone puzzled, even slightly irritated.

Philip lifted his head, looking at her, his gaze gentle.

"Because I’m your brother, Jean."

Jean shook her head, her tone firm.

"No, you’re not my brother. That cousin identity back then was just to conveniently visit me in prison, to help me openly from outside; we both know that."

She paused, observing Philip’s slightly changing expression, and continued, "There’s no possibility between us, Officer Paxton. I can’t be with Justin Holden, but I also can’t accept any other man, at least not now, and I don’t know about the future."

Philip remained silent, his Adam’s apple moving slightly.

Jean looked at him, her gaze filled with gratitude, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Don’t wait anymore, Mr. Paxton. It’s been five years. I’ve owed you enough."

She listed them one by one, her voice calm.

"You haven’t gone home all year round, even going to prison to see me on New Year’s Eve, not because of anything but because your family urged you to get married and you had nowhere else to go, so you came to find this cousin, right?"

"You often volunteered for those dangerous operations, getting yourself all scarred up, not because you wanted a promotion so badly. You wanted to achieve merits, quickly accumulate enough capital, and have enough power to get me out of prison sooner."

"I ultimately got my sentence reduced by a year. Behind the scenes, how much you helped me, how many good words you said, I know it all."

Philip opened his mouth, wanting to refute, his voice dry.

"It’s not like that, Jean. My family... isn’t forcing me into blind dates. I participate in operations also just for myself; who doesn’t want a promotion and a raise?"

Jean interrupted him, looking him straight in the eyes, her voice calm and cold.

"You don’t lack money, Mr. Paxton."

"Your parents are both university professors, and your family has several properties and more than a dozen shops collecting rent."

"You don’t lack money. Coming from a well-off background, tell me you’re risking yourself for that little bit of promotion and raise money. Is that possible?"

Philip fell completely silent.

He lowered his head, looking at his fingers, which bore small scars and calluses from years of training and being on missions, unable to argue.

There are still shrapnel pieces in his body that haven’t been removed yet, but that doesn’t matter much, although it occasionally hurts.

After a long while, Philip slowly raised his head, his facial expression unchanged, but a sense of desolation in his eyes.

He managed a smile and said softly, "Let’s eat first; the food will get cold."