CHAPTER 7: CHAPTER 7: LATE MEDICATION TONIGHT

The black Mercedes at the prison gate had just left, and Isabel Dalton took out her phone from her uniform pocket, dialing a number from Pullen.

"A man came looking for you, surnamed Holden."

"I told him about your situation as you asked."

"Hmm, thank you."

The voice on the other end was Jean Ellison’s, clear and cold.

Justin Holden found his way to the prison faster than she had anticipated.

The child was dead, and he came for the milk.

Isabel Dalton was both a prison guard and a friend Jean Ellison had made while incarcerated.

If not for Officer Dalton’s kind assistance, she might have died in prison with her child.

Jean Ellison had just finished work at the company, her eyes were weary, carrying a backpack with a heavy laptop and some reference books needed for writing.

The sultry weather was unpredictable, changing like a child’s face.

With a "boom," the once cyan-blue sky turned, layers of dark clouds shifted like stars and planets above her head.

Then came more thunder, raindrops pattered onto the ground, growing from the size of mung beans to soybeans, drenching her as they fell.

Jean Ellison’s long hair was half-wet; she fumbled in her pocket for a hair tie, haphazardly making a ponytail, taking off the backpack, hugging it and quickly running towards the nearby bus stop.

A black Mercedes parked by the roadside with the dark brown windows half-lowered allowed rainwater to be blown in, soaking Justin Holden’s expensive white shirt.

The shirt collar had a few buttons undone, with a gray tie casually tossed on the passenger seat.

Half of his body was wet with rainwater, and the muscle lines on his strong arm were clearly visible.

He resembled a white Greek sculpture, noble and indifferent, sitting motionless, silently looking out the window.

His long, deep black eyes penetrated the blurred rain, landing on Jean Ellison, a subtle sadness lingering in his gaze.

Jean Ellison reached the bus stop, her shoes soaked through, her pants wet up to her knees, the icy rainwater piercing her lower body like fine needles.

During her postpartum confinement after Jesse’s birth, her body hadn’t recovered well, leaving her with a chronic illness that made her shiver all over when cold.

She sat down on the bench, her shoulders uncontrollably trembling, exuding a coldness even sharper than the rain.

The black Mercedes parked not far away moved slowly, the red light illuminating as it stopped at the intersection.

The rain fell heavily, and there were few cars on the road.

Jean Ellison turned her head towards the junction, waiting for the bus, noticing the black Mercedes from a distance, the person inside appearing somewhat familiar.

Before she could take a good look, a man dashed out from the rain in the opposite direction, wielding a black umbrella.

"Miss Ellison, the rain is getting heavier, let me give you a ride."

Vic had also just finished work, driving out of the underground parking, instantly recognizing the familiar silhouette at the bus stop sign.

At that moment, the green light at the junction lit up, the black Mercedes accelerated swiftly, its wheels splashing water as it raced by.

Jean Ellison didn’t refuse, getting into Vic’s car. Had he delayed starting the car by one second, the Mercedes coming from behind would have crashed into his rear.

As they left, he muttered, "What kind of person drives without watching the road on a rainy day?"

Jean Ellison glanced to the side mirror, her pupils contracting as she met a pair of eyes as dark as ink.

In the tiny mirror was a man’s face, the rain blurring his superior features yet unable to conceal his noble and cool demeanor.

Justin Holden’s shirt collar was open, revealing a half-exposed smooth, deep clavicle, his long, fair neck flushed slightly, and his slightly squinted eyes stared at her without reservation.

"Vic, faster."

She blurted out almost instinctively, withdrawing her gaze and lowering her head.

Hadn’t he gained nothing today at the prison?

Vic stepped on the gas pedal fully, and the Mercedes behind did not follow. Jean Ellison exhaled a long breath,

the phone in her bag vibrating, she saw a text message from an unremarked number.

"Court notice, the trial will commence in twenty-five days."

"I still need to understand some situations; please visit the law firm when you have time."

"Okay."

Undoubtedly, it was a message from Justin Holden. The two didn’t have WhatsApp, relying instead on phone calls or text messages.

Jean Ellison clicked open the text message page, seeing an incredibly familiar number.

He hadn’t changed his number in five years.

She never stored his number in her previous phones; she simply had seen it so many times it was engraved in her mind.

Justin Holden didn’t allow her to contact him proactively; he was always the one to call her.

Summoning her to meet him at certain places, like a hotel outside the school, the equipment room of a gym, and even his car.

In his eyes, she was insignificant, like a blade of grass to be manipulated at will.

She had a minor niche hobby that she always felt ashamed about, unbefitting her status as a lady of standing.

It was accidentally discovered by him, who effortlessly wielded control, gripping even tighter.

He seemed to like it too.

Watching her flush all over, her fair skin turned to a lotus pink, her grape-sized eyes watery, extremely adorable.

Justin Holden drove home; it was already past eleven o’clock.

He lived in a high-end apartment next to the law firm for convenience, rarely engaging in social activities, not even attending the firm’s celebratory banquets.

Moreover, he suffered from insomnia, unable to party late, needing to take medications on time.

Tonight, he took his medication late.

He lay in bed with his eyes open, watching the second hand of the clock on the wall tick away, the sound infinitely amplified in his ears.

Finally, he closed his eyes, his eyelids fluttering slightly, lying flat, and his long arms placed alongside his body.

Each second was a minute, weary yet sleepless, not the kind to toss and turn, nor one to overtly display emotions, his brow furrowed, reopening his eyes, turning on the bedside lamp.

The dim yellow light shone by the window, the white sheer curtains slightly swaying, the sound of the wind outside; when unable to sleep, his senses were particularly acute.

Samual Pryce jokingly suggested he should become a detective, staking out at night for criminals.

His mind was restless at this point; finally, around one in the morning, he could no longer stand lying down, got up, and walked out of the bedroom.

He made his way to the kitchen, poured himself a drink of strong liquor, and downed several cups in succession.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a silhouette in the living room, putting down the empty glass, stumbling a few steps to check.

The woman stood with her back to him, slightly plump, wearing a dark blue prison uniform, with long sleeves and pants, her long, slightly curly hair spread out over her back.

"Claire Caldwell..."

He froze, his thin lips moved a few times before calling out.

The woman turned around, her forehead trimmed with bangs, her face round, her entire complexion a pale pink, her eyes round and large, always watery.

Seeing the familiar face, a gleam flashed in Justin Holden’s eyes, his gaze slowly moved down, his pupils shattering.

The woman’s belly protruded significantly, straining against her prison clothes, one hand resting on her stomach.

She suddenly laughed, a laugh that felt eerie to the bones.

"Why didn’t you come to see me and the baby earlier..."

"The baby is mad at you, says he wants to go back to heaven, and take me along."

Justin Holden frowned deeply, his eyes reddening, and shook his head, saying, "Weren’t you the one who said you’d kill me after getting out? You can’t die!"

Those were Claire Caldwell’s heated words when she heard the judge’s verdict.

The woman, like a child who had suffered grievances, lowered her head, tears rolling down her fair cheeks.

"But there’s constant work in prison; I’m so tired, I can’t do it well, I’m always making mistakes and getting scolded."

"There are also rats in the cell, and you know, I’m most afraid of rats..."

"Alright, I understand, I’ll find a way to get you out, okay?"

His voice was gentle, coddling her tenderly, his gaze resolute and sincere.

He was so smart, he’d surely find a way to get her out.

The woman’s sinister smile halted instantly, her expression turning fierce, raising the hand that rested on her stomach to point at him.

"Don’t forget, it was you who sent me in, you murdered me."

"What makes you think you can talk about saving me?"