CHAPTER 4: CHAPTER 4: HER HUSBAND DIED, AND HE’S HAPPY?

Easy to handle?

The person who said this was Justin Holden. His tone was like that of a lover reunited after a long separation, with a focused and serious gaze that didn’t shift an inch from her face.

She felt the gaze above her head was filled with deep affection, and when she looked up to meet his eyes, they were still so cold.

It was probably an illusion.

Jean Ellison felt puzzled, looked at him, and her eyes questioned the meaning of his words.

Why did it feel like her husband’s death was pleasing to him?

Justin Holden’s eyes darkened, and he spoke heavily, "In a custody battle, the last thing you need is someone interfering. You better not be lying."

Jean remained silent, and Vic appeared just in time, carrying a camera and reminding her, "Miss Ellison, we should head back to the company."

She wished to leave here as soon as possible, picked up the bag on the ground, suddenly remembering Justin was still next to her.

"Lawyer Holden, I’m off work now. If there’s any issue, please contact me."

Justin Holden’s thin lips curved slightly into an ambiguous smile, making Jean Ellison feel uneasy.

Under the frameless glasses, the corners of his eyes slightly lifted, his long lashes naturally drooped, casting an indistinct shadow on his eyelids.

His nod was appropriately measured, and he said nothing.

He turned and left, his face returned to its usual solemn and aloof expression. Jean Ellison walked not far behind him, maintaining a certain distance.

At this moment, Vic caught up with Jean, discreetly pulling a stack of photos from his pocket.

"Sis, a big scoop. I just bought this from someone. This news is definitely hot."

"Don’t worry, I’ve checked. It’s exclusive material. Although it’s an old case from this school, if we report it on our company’s account, it’ll definitely gain attention."

Jean Ellison worked for a private media company, mainly using an online media platform with multiple sections.

The company focused heavily on news popularity. Even events that happened over a decade ago would be reported if they attracted attention.

The words "old school case" caught Justin Holden’s attention, and he suddenly stopped, turning to look at the two behind him.

Jean’s face turned pale, her fingers shook, and the photos in her hand scattered all over the ground.

His gaze landed on her face, his cold eyes moved down unnoticeably, scanning the photos on the ground, and his eyes darkened.

They were photos witnessing a middle-aged man’s suicide by jumping off a building, his head hitting the ground leaving a pool of blood, his facial features bloodied beyond recognition, and his elbow and knee bones shattered into pieces, clearly visible.

Jean bent down, her trembling pale fingertips reaching for the photos on the ground, when a large hand reached over, picking them up first.

Her gaze moved upward to meet the man’s abyss-like eyes.

"Just some photos. Reporter Ellison, are you familiar?"

Justin spoke lightly, his scrutinizing gaze resting on her face. His long fingers pinched the photos, gathering them into a stack, the back of the photos facing Jean.

Jean released her tightly clenched fist, trying to remain calm. The scene on the photos kept haunting her mind, her voice trembling uncontrollably.

"Anyone would be scared seeing a corpse."

Her eyes looked up at him, her shimmering eyes slightly red-rimmed as if she had received quite a shock.

She bent down, having just picked up the bag on the ground, when her wrist was caught by a large hand, a familiar feeling suddenly coming over her, causing her shoulder to tremble.

His hand grasped her wrist gently, with room to spare, his long fingers resembling white jade.

Her fingers were slender and bony, with blue veins clearly evident, each finger having thin calluses.

Left from working in prison.

To reduce her sentence and get out early to see her daughter, she worked harder than any female prisoner, her fingerprint worn so thin.

She regained her senses and tried to pull her hand back, wanting to break free, but the grip on her wrist tightened.

"Timothy Caldwell, a board member at Kingswell University and a well-known businessman, jumped to his death on June 15, four years ago, and was suspected of multiple fraud cases involving amounts as high as billions."

"Since it’s just fear, Reporter Ellison must write this great news herself."

Jean was almost brought to tears, clenching her teeth, her vision blurred by tears.

"Of course, I’ll write the article myself."

"Lawyer Holden is so curious, remember to download our company’s app and support my work."

She was asked to write an article about her father being a villainous businessman or a school board member who committed suicide?

She didn’t know if the rumors were true, only that before jumping, her father’s last order was on his phone.

A sapphire necklace meant as her graduation gift.

His bank card was frozen, he spent the last tens of thousands in his balance, then jumped from a high-rise building.

In his final moments, his thoughts were still with her, his only precious daughter.

He didn’t know that as he jumped to his death, the police had already taken his daughter at the school gate.

His death protected no one and instead plunged the Caldwell family into another abyss, leaving them utterly isolated and helpless.

"Naturally." Justin Holden’s face darkened, releasing her hand.

If she were Claire Caldwell, how could she be willing to write this article and tarnish her father’s name? She would never agree to it.

Jean held her bag, opened her other hand, and demanded the photos from him.

"Give them to me."

Justin Holden slowly reached out, handing the photos over. Just before they touched her moist palm, he suddenly raised his hand.

"Name a price. I want these photos."

His voice was cold, his gaze on her face indifferent, devoid of the previous teasing intimacy.

Jean withdrew her hand, puzzled, and asked, "What do you want these photos for?"

Justin wanted first-hand photos of her father’s suicide. There’s no way she believed it was because he had money to burn.

"It’s understandable Reporter Ellison doesn’t know. The person in the photos is my..."

His voice paused, and the gaze he gave Jean deepened significantly.

"Mentor."

Jean almost couldn’t resist slapping him. He wasn’t worthy of calling her father mentor.

Forcing a reporter to write a smear article about her father, is that how he treated his mentor?

Jean really wanted to investigate whether all the various companies over the years mentioning the Caldwell family for attention were instigated by Justin Holden.

His current status and prominence in the industry were all thanks to her father paving the way for him, considering him as a future son-in-law, placing him in the best law firms to intern, learning from the country’s most famous lawyers.

His starting point in this industry was the end goal for millions of aspiring lawyers.

Her father’s goodwill turned into nurturing a future adversary.

Vic was about to refuse. The photos were prepared for Miss Ellison as exclusive material for her article, so what’s the point of selling them to this man?

He took a step forward, but Jean stopped him with a glance.

"Fifty thousand, will you buy them?"

"I’ll add another fifty thousand, making it a hundred thousand."

Justin Holden placed the photos in his suit pocket, seeing she didn’t refuse, then turned to leave.

Watching his departing back, Jean furrowed her brows. What exactly did he intend to do, spending a hundred thousand to buy these photos?

"Miss Ellison, let’s go too."

Jean returned to her senses and said to Vic, "Once the money arrives, I’ll transfer it to you."

"Sis, you keep the money for yourself. You still need to raise a child. I’m on my own, and I don’t need it."

Jean had only mentioned to Vic that she had a daughter, nothing more.

Vic didn’t know the child wasn’t with her, nor did he know she served four years in prison and had just been released. She didn’t even know when she could bring her daughter home.

Jean was indeed short on money. The money for hiring a lawyer was borrowed.

Her mother was still in a nursing home, and they probably owed the hospital a lot over the years.

Everywhere required money. Rent was also covered by a friend, and she felt uneasy not repaying it.

The two of them left the school, placing the tripod used for filming and the heavy bag into the trunk. Vic drove while Jean sat in the passenger seat.

Stopping at a red light, they saw a woman with a child on the crosswalk, followed by a nanny and a bodyguard.

The woman had a seven to eight-point resemblance to Jean, the difference being her neatly styled black short hair and the latest luxury brand bag on her elbow.

Her face was rosy, exuding a wealthy aura, a state only possible from long-term material abundance.

Bearing a strong resemblance to Jean was the little girl holding the woman’s right hand. The girl’s exquisite features matched Jean’s without any difference, as if copied and pasted.