CHAPTER 83: CHAPTER 83: TROUBLE CAUSED BY SWEET AND SOUR YAM

Laura Shaw listened and sighed softly, a hint of professional sympathy in her sigh.

"It sounds like she just wants to use you as a free lawyer." She paused, her tone becoming gentler, "Why don’t you move out, find a new place to live, and get yourself a better roommate?"

Justin Holden remained silent.

He didn’t look at Laura Shaw; instead, his gaze fell on a corner of the bookshelf opposite, his jawline even more tense than before.

Just then, his phone, placed on the armrest of the sofa, began to vibrate.

Justin Holden frowned slightly and glanced at the caller ID.

It was an unsaved number, the IP showing as local.

He hesitated for a moment but eventually slid to answer and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello."

From the other end came a young man’s anxious voice, sounding somewhat familiar.

"Hello? Is this Mr. Holden? I’m Vic, a colleague of Jean Ellison."

"The kindergarten only has a half-day today, and Miss Ellison has something urgent and can’t get away, so she asked me to take Jesse home, but the concierge at the community gate said there’s no confirmation from the owner and simply won’t let me in."

"You see... Jesse is still waiting in the car."

Justin Holden listened and did not hesitate, immediately saying, "Send me the location, I’ll be there right away."

He hung up, stood up swiftly, and picked up the dark gray suit jacket hanging on the coat rack.

He gave a brief nod to Laura Shaw.

"Doctor Shaw, I’m sorry, something urgent has come up. Let’s end today’s consultation here."

Laura Shaw nodded, expressing her understanding.

"No problem, you go ahead."

She watched as Justin Holden draped the suit jacket over his elbow, not even having time to put it on, as he strode out of the consultation room, the automatic door closing softly behind him.

Laura Shaw picked up the teacup on the table, gently blew on the steam, shook her head, and muttered softly to herself.

"It seems... that he can’t change roommates." She took a sip of tea, "A single call and he’s summoned home to take care of the kid."

She put down the teacup and sighed helplessly.

"It’s just a matter of making a phone call to the concierge... but insists on driving over personally."

"This isn’t about changing roommates," she said quietly, glancing toward the door where Justin Holden disappeared, "he’s clearly ready to make a life with someone, which is quite nice too, a family of three."

Half an hour later.

In the elevator, little Jesse, with a small backpack on her back, stood obediently by Justin Holden’s leg, looking up.

"Uncle Holden, the teacher asked us to make handcrafted paper boats with newspapers, can you help me make one?"

Justin Holden looked down at her and nodded, "Sure."

"But there are no newspapers at home," he added, "I’ll go buy some later."

Jesse immediately shook her head, her little pigtails swaying gently.

"No need to buy, mommy has a box full of lots and lots of old newspapers."

The elevator arrived, and the door opened.

Justin Holden led Jesse out, eyebrows slightly furrowed, he asked her.

"Mommy collects old newspapers?"

"Mm-hmm."

Jesse nodded vigorously, reaching out her small hand to press the fingerprint lock.

Her fingerprint was already registered on the door lock; her mommy taught her how to open the door.

As soon as she entered, Jesse couldn’t wait to drop her backpack and ran into the bedroom.

There was a storage cabinet in the corner, and she laboriously dragged out a not-so-small cardboard box.

Justin Holden followed her, watching as Jesse excitedly opened the box, inside indeed there was a neatly stacked thick pile of newspapers, the paper slightly yellowed, emitting the unique scent of old paper.

Jesse picked up a stack, trotted over to the coffee table in the living room, and put it on the glass tabletop with a thud.

"So many old newspapers, definitely enough to make a paper boat."

Justin Holden’s gaze fell on the front page headline of the top newspaper, his cold gaze clashing with the bold black title.

[Caldwell Group Suspected of Major Economic Crimes, Chairman Timothy Caldwell Under Investigation]

His pupils suddenly contracted, and his breath momentarily stopped. He reached out, his long fingers flipping through the stack of newspapers a few times.

[Caldwell Group Stock Price Plummets, Suspected of Capital Chain Rupture]

[Exclusive Deep Dive: The Network of Interests Behind the Caldwell Clan]

[The Fall of a Former Business Empire, Where Does the Caldwell Clan Go From Here?]

Every single one, every page, was almost entirely about the downfall of the Caldwell family five years ago.

Although the newspapers were yellowed and old, they were well organized, without a crease, and any damaged corner had been smoothed out.

Why did she specifically collect these, just because she was childhood friends with Claire Caldwell?

At the entrance came the "beep beep" sound, the password lock flashing green twice.

Jean Ellison pushed the door open and walked in.

She saw Jesse arranging drawing pens beside the coffee table, the little one sitting on a cushion, and she smiled gently, lovingly.

Bending down, her fingers hooked onto the back strap of her slender high heels, gently slipping them off and placing them aside, revealing her delicate feet in thin stockings, her ankles slender and fair.

She casually placed her work bag on the hallway cabinet, making a slight noise.

It wasn’t meal time yet, she had come home early; today’s lunch was her turn to make.

"Is Jesse hungry? I’ll just go to the kitchen then."

"Shall we have sweet and sour yams and sauerkraut stewed ribs for lunch? I’ll start by steaming the rice."

Jesse was focused on folding the newspaper in her hand, but the one answering her was Justin Holden.

"There’s rice in the kitchen, I’ve already steamed it."

Jean Ellison paused, looked at him, sensing something off about his gaze, deep eyes seemingly scrutinizing her.

She glanced down at her clothes, nothing special, just ordinary work attire—a white silk shirt and light blue suit pants.

Jean Ellison walked into the kitchen, put on an apron of plain color, tying the strings neatly into a bow at the back, highlighting her slim waistline.

She casually twisted her long hair into a low bun, with a few wisps of stray hair cascading down her slender neck.

She started with the ribs.

From the fridge, she took out ribs that were already blanched, putting them in the pot with cold water, adding ginger slices and cooking wine, bringing it to a boil on high heat, skimming off the scum and then simmering it on low heat.

Until the ribs were stewed to tenderness.

She spread the wrung-out sauerkraut into the pot of ribs, watching as the dark sauerkraut leaves slowly submerged into the off-white broth.

She placed the lid on, letting the salty freshness of the sauerkraut blend with the rich flavor of the ribs.

On the other side, she heated the frying pan, poured in clear oil, waited until the oil temperature rose to seventy percent, then poured in the yam pieces that had been drained of water.

With a sizzle, hot oil met moisture, causing a burst of white steam.

She poured in the prepared sweet and sour sauce, the sauce sizzling upon heat, thick bubbles wrapping around each piece of yam, the sweet and sour aroma filling the entire kitchen.

Jean Ellison scooped the last few pieces of yams glistening in red sauce into a plate, the spatula clinking crisply against the porcelain plate.

She was just about to turn and discard the excess sweet and sour sauce when she slipped, the bowl in her hand tipping towards her chest.

"Mm!"

A stifled cry of pain.

Most of the boiling, sticky sweet and sour sauce splashed onto her chest, scorching the skin beneath her clothes.