CHAPTER 50: CHAPTER 50: RELIEF

"The money, where is it?"

She suppressed the turmoil in her heart, her voice turned cold.

Whether it’s real or not, it still depends on if the money can truly reach her hands.

"According to the contract terms, the full amount was transferred to the designated bank account you previously provided at the very first moment after the completion of the transaction. After deducting the commission we deserved and the necessary taxes, the net amount is exactly eight hundred thousand."

The agent answered quickly.

"You should soon receive a notification message from the bank. If you haven’t received it, or if you have any doubts about the amount, you can log into online banking or call the bank’s customer service at any time to verify."

Jean Ellison’s gaze instinctively swept towards the other phone on the bedside table, which was linked to the bank card receiving the payment.

At that moment, the screen of that phone suddenly lit up, and a notification message from the bank system silently popped out.

In the dim light, the string of white numbers was exceptionally clear.

[Kingswell Bank] Your account ending in 2387 completed an inward transaction of 800,000 RMB at 6:30 on August 2, balance...

Eight hundred thousand.

Black and white text, cold and definitive numbers.

Jean Ellison stared at the message for a full ten seconds.

The cold light from the screen reflected on her face, revealing the shock in her eyes, along with a trace of deep-seated worry.

Eight hundred thousand, an amount that for her was a considerable fortune, just appeared in her account out of nowhere.

Unknown source, unknown motive, like a sugar-coated ticking time bomb.

"Ms. Ellison? Are you still listening? The money should have arrived, you may check it."

The agent’s voice sounded again, with a tone of ease after completing a task.

Jean Ellison took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the strong sense of unease in her heart.

Questioning the agent now clearly held no meaning. She needed to stay calm.

"I understand." Her voice returned to tranquility, perhaps overly so, devoid of any emotion, "I see the money."

"Alright, Ms. Ellison. Congratulations on successfully selling your property, and if there’s anything else you need later, feel free to contact me. Wish you a happy life."

The agent, Wright, finished the formal ending statement.

"Mm." Jean replied faintly, not waiting for the other person to say anything more, and directly pressed the hang-up button.

Beep... beep... beep...

The busy signal sounded particularly jarring in the silent room.

Jean Ellison held the phone, her body still maintaining the position of leaning against the headboard, motionless.

The only sounds left in the room were her breathing and a few occasional bird calls from outside the window.

Eight hundred thousand.

The number swirled in her mind repeatedly.

It could solve many of her current predicaments, at least providing her with a buffer, regardless of the outcome, once the lawsuit was over.

But the money came too strangely, too eerily.

And just hours before the court hearing, the money in her bank account now could cover Jesse’s surgery fees.

She opened that bank message, repeatedly verifying the numbers and account information, as if trying to discern some clue from it.

The cold numbers lay there quietly, silently mocking her doubts.

No answers.

Only an unknown buyer and a chilling eight hundred thousand.

A huge wave of fatigue, mixed with profound suspicion, swept over her again.

A few hours later was an extremely important court hearing for her; she needed rest, needed to keep a clear head.

No matter what lay behind this money, she had no energy to delve into it now.

She tossed both phones back onto the bedside table, her action carrying an imperceptible trace of irritation.

The screens’ light extinguished, and the room fell back into a dim gray-blue hue.

She pulled up the quilt and lay back down, burying her body deep into the soft mattress.

The flannel sheets clung to her skin, offering a faint sense of warmth.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to clear her mind.

She turned over, buried her face in the pillow, took a deep breath, taking in the scent of her usual shampoo, a trace of familiar fragrance.

This slight sense of familiarity let her taut nerves relax a little.

Don’t think about it.

She said to herself.

Think about nothing.

Now, sleep. Rest well, to face the court in a few hours.

As for that eight hundred thousand... deal with it after tomorrow.

She adjusted her breathing, striving to ignore the faint unease deep in her heart.

The sky outside seemed to brighten a bit, with a hint of dawn breaking through the gray-blue.

In the living room, only a corner lamp was lit, casting a dim yellow glow.

Justin Holden sat alone on the wide leather sofa, his body leaned back slightly, sinking into the soft backrest.

He had actually fallen asleep sitting.

Indeed, his guess was right; this house could help ease his insomnia.

He raised his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose forcefully, trying to dissipate the discomfort, his fingertips icy.

The light of the phone’s screen came on in the dark, making his eyes squint slightly.

He opened WhatsApp, his fingertip quickly sliding through the contact list, with an almost cold efficiency.

Soon, he found that name.

Tranquil Living - Manager Wright (Ardmore Road Sale).

Without hesitation.

He opened the chat box. Inside were only a few extremely brief messages, spanning a considerable time.

The earliest was text he sent.

"No. 12 Ardmore Road Room 102, owner Jean Ellison."

"Discuss according to the price I quoted, full payment, expedite the process."

"Buyer information confidential, commission doubled."

Following were Manager Wright’s formulaic replies.

"Received, Mr. Holden, rest assured, it will be done."

"Mr. Holden, the buyer has signed a letter of intent, and the price is as you said, eight hundred thousand."

"All procedures are completed, the funds have been wired into Ms. Ellison’s account according to the contract."

Justin Holden’s gaze lingered for a moment on the message "the funds have been wired into Ms. Ellison’s account according to the contract."

The screen’s light reflected on his face, outlining the taut lines of his jaw.

His eyes were unfathomable, like a frozen icy pond, revealing no emotional fluctuation.

His fingertip moved, hovered over the three small dots in the top right corner of the chat box.

Click.

A dropdown menu popped up.

He selected the scarlet option without hesitation.

Delete contact.

A simple system confirmation box appeared.

"Delete contact ’Tranquil Living - Manager Wright (Ardmore Road Sale)’, along with all chat records with this contact."

Confirm.

His fingertip fell.

The chat box on the screen, along with that name, vanished instantly without a trace, as if it had never existed.

He tossed the phone onto the sofa’s armrest beside him, making a slight collision sound.

His body sank back into the depths of the sofa, and he slowly closed his eyes.