CHAPTER 19: CHAPTER 19: ADDED TO THE BLACKLIST

Jean Ellison stood aside, unable to hear the voice on the other end of the call. She only saw Justin Holden hang up and hurriedly turn to leave.

The back of his dark gray suit was straight, the shoulder line was cold and hard, his hand casually tucked into his trouser pocket, and his steps were steady.

Jean watched him disappear at the corner.

Keystone Law.

Samual Pryce brought a stack of photos and placed them on Justin Holden’s desk.

"Take a look."

"The Jennings family found Jesse’s biological father."

"A Chinese-American."

Hearing those four words, Justin Holden furrowed his brows, flipped through the photos, and glanced at them.

"Do you think there’s a resemblance?"

He pointed at the photos on the table and looked up at Samual Pryce.

"Doesn’t it?"

Samual Pryce picked up the photos, scrutinized them closely, but couldn’t glean anything conclusive.

With the Jennings family’s complex connections, finding someone wasn’t hard. He didn’t doubt that the person in the photos wasn’t Jesse’s father.

"No, not at all."

Justin Holden shook his head, his brows relaxed, and he didn’t spare another glance at the photos in his hand. He turned aside to open the office computer.

"Maybe Jesse takes after her mother. How can you be so sure this man isn’t Jesse’s biological father? The Jennings Family says he is."

"This man has a criminal record. He’s done time in both domestic and international prisons, uses marijuana, has no income source, and is homeless. Finding him wouldn’t be easy."

Justin Holden adjusted his rimless glasses on the bridge of his nose, focused on the computer screen, his articulate fingers sliding over the mouse.

"Frank Leo, seven years ago in Los Angeles was sentenced to five years for intentional assault, and Jesse is four years old this year."

"The Jennings family couldn’t find someone, so they just paid for one to fool you."

Samual Pryce leaned in front of him to look, his computer screen filled with dense English, seemingly from a database somewhere.

"Abusing your position..."

He pointed at the computer, locking eyes with the cold gaze of Justin Holden, voice pausing.

"We should open an account for this kind of investigation."

"Hmm." Justin Holden responded lightly, and casually printed out the material.

Samual Pryce picked up the photo on the table, shook his head, and said, "How did I not think of that? This guy looks like he’s been run over by a car. How could he father such a beautiful child as Jesse?"

He suddenly caught a glimpse of Justin Holden’s face, and with a joking tone.

"Hey, if anyone looks like the kid, I’d say you and Jesse bear some resemblance."

"Do we?"

Justin Holden chuckled lightly, stood up, pulled the document from the printer, and casually slipped it into an evidence bag.

"Your eyebrows and nose bridge are the most similar. If someone told me Jesse was yours, I’d believe them."

"Is there anything in this world you don’t believe?"

Justin Holden quipped at him, sitting down at his desk, focused on flipping through dossiers. These were cases in recent years fraught with controversies over custody rights.

Samual Pryce said nothing but thought to himself.

There is.

For example, back in high school, everyone said the woman he hated the most was Claire Caldwell.

He didn’t believe it.

In the second semester of his senior year, after a breakup, unable to sleep late at night, he brought a case of beer to the rooftop to find him.

Justin Holden’s door stood ajar, blown open by the wind. Standing in the hallway, he saw firsthand as this guy took out a photo of Claire Caldwell, sat at his desk, unzipped his pants, and slid his right hand inside.

How could that be hate?

That was clearly a passionate longing.

After Samual Pryce left, Justin Holden took out a photo from the bottom drawer, a passport-style photo with a white background.

The woman in the photo had a round face, very fair skin, and pulled her hair back into a high ponytail, with beautiful, bright eyes.

He gently caressed the photo with his thumb, closed his eyes, and after a long time, reopened them.

"Using the rooftop as the center, a sixty-kilometer radius..."

Within this range, there was no cemetery.

Claire Caldwell must still be alive, she’s just hiding, or perhaps planning how to stab him in the back.

He’d rather it be the latter, as it meant he could still see her.

He was preparing to leave the firm, wanting someone to help find Jesse’s biological father.

Sitting idly has never been his style in a case.

Thinking it necessary to inform Jean Ellison about this, as she seemed to despise this man.

Giving her a heads up that the unfaithful man might appear in court would allow her to be mentally prepared.

He picked up the jacket from the coat rack, draped it over his elbow, holding his phone in the other hand, his fingers accidentally brushing the screen.

Dialed a number.

The ringtone was familiar, a pop song from five years ago. Now it sounded a bit outdated.

He looked down, his sword-like brows furrowing, and the number had the note marked as Claire Caldwell.

He remembered Claire Caldwell had once set this as a speed dial on his phone. To call her, he only needed to press number one.

By the time he remembered to hang up, the call connected.

"Hello."

A man’s voice came from the receiver, somewhat hoarse, somewhat familiar.

"Who are you?"

Justin Holden had never dialed this number in the past five years.

"You called me, and you’re asking who I am?"

"I should be asking you who you are."

The man’s tone was furious.

"Isn’t this Claire Caldwell’s number?"

Justin Holden’s tone was calm.

"Who? Don’t know her. This is my number. You got the wrong number, bye."

The call was ended.

Justin Holden seemed to have more to say, his thin lips moved slightly, and then he put the phone back in his pocket.

Perhaps the phone company had recycled this number and resold it.

At this moment, at a street food stall, two bowls of steaming egg fried rice were served.

Vic handed the phone to Jean Ellison, cleared his throat, and asked with a smile, "Miss Ellison, how did I do just now?"

"Great."

Jean Ellison put away the phone, giving him a thumbs-up.

Vic took a big bite of the egg fried rice and said with bulging cheeks, "These harassing calls are rampant these days, calling people at all times. I’ve already blocked this number for you."

Jean Ellison paused with a spoonful of rice halfway to her mouth, her fingers tightening around the spoon.

Though she hadn’t asked for onions in the egg fried rice, her eyes still felt a bit sore.

After a brief pause, she replied, "Alright, thank you."

Vic, his head down eating, didn’t notice the unusual expression on her face and waved his hand.

"No big deal, no need to thank me."

Jean Ellison ate slowly while Vic finished first and started fiddling with the camera.

She took out the old phone from the previous call, and in her bag, there was a brand-new Apple phone, issued by the company.

The old phone’s lock screen password was a date.

It was the day after her father went to the Holden family to discuss matters, which was also her first date with Justin Holden.

During the date, they hardly exchanged any words.

She didn’t dare to ask whether he had agreed to the family’s arrangement, even less what their relationship was.

On the way home, they passed by a flower stall.

The shopkeeper smiled and said, buy a bouquet for your girlfriend.

Justin Holden went over, selected a bouquet of green eustoma, and placed it in her hand.

This bouquet of green eustoma remained on her bedroom windowsill for months, even when it withered, she wouldn’t let the housemaid throw it away.

Vic casually snapped some street views with the camera and suddenly called out to her.

"Miss Ellison, there’s a little girl over there staring at you."