CHAPTER 87: CHAPTER 87: HE IS HER MAN

The sun is shining brightly in the garden of the nursing home.

As Justin Holden parked his car and walked in, he saw a tall and straight man bending down patiently pushing a wheelchair.

Sitting in the wheelchair was Susan Kingston.

She looked haggard, but her eyes were unusually clear today, suggesting she might have taken her medication on time.

Susan Kingston had a thin blanket covering her legs and was holding a small wildflower, looking up and saying something to Philip Paxton with a smile on her face.

Philip Paxton listened attentively, nodding from time to time, gently adjusting the blanket for her.

As Justin turned to head to the director’s office, Susan Kingston’s gaze accidentally swept over him, freezing her smile.

She suddenly became extremely panicked and agitated. She grabbed the wheelchair handle abruptly, leaning forward, looking at Justin, her voice sharp.

"Justin, Justin, is that you? You’ve come."

She reached out a trembling hand toward him, unable to touch him, only holding it up in the air.

"Quick, quick, find Claire, take her away, take her far away from here, hurry!"

Justin halted, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.

Susan Kingston’s emotions became even more agitated, trying to rise from the wheelchair.

"They’re all looking for her, they want to arrest her, she’s innocent, she’s been wronged, you must take her away quickly, or it will be too late."

She breathed rapidly, her gaze unfocused, trapped in some terrible delusion.

Her husband jumped to his death, leaving only her and her daughter, yet she was told the police wanted to take away her only daughter, saying she would be sentenced.

How could that be, Claire just graduated from college, she’s still a kid.

Philip Paxton firmly held her shoulder, speaking in a deep voice to calm her.

"Aunt Kingston, calm down, everything’s okay, it’s fine."

He glanced at Justin, signaling him to leave first.

The nearby nurse also noticed the commotion and hurried over.

Justin glanced at the distraught Susan Kingston but said nothing, walking toward the empty space beside him.

After a while, Philip Paxton finished handling things inside and came out to see Justin.

"Does she react like this every time she sees you?"

Philip Paxton spoke with an emotionless tone.

Justin turned around, looking at him, not answering Philip’s question but instead pressing his voice coldly, asking.

"I heard Captain Paxton is investigating the Caldwell family’s case recently?"

Philip Paxton’s eyes turned cold suddenly, fixing on him: "How do you know?"

Justin’s expression remained unchanged: "I have my channels."

Philip Paxton stepped closer, his gaze sharp: "Are your channels legitimate?"

Justin glanced coldly at him, eyes arrogant, tone calm: "Seems Captain has forgotten, I’m a lawyer."

Philip Paxton locked eyes with him for a moment, seeming to weigh something, eventually stepping back slightly, his tone softening, but still persistent.

"Yes, I’m investigating."

He paused, gazing into the distance, his voice low.

"I like Claire Caldwell, I want to overturn her case, it’s nothing to do with you, right."

Justin’s pupils shrank slightly.

Philip Paxton continued, with a firm tone.

"Although I’ve only met her once, I think this girl is not bad, she’s kind-hearted, died unjustly."

He turned back, lifting his gaze to Justin again, eyes sharp.

"The Caldwell family matter is not so simple, she shouldn’t have died like that, bearing so much unclear blame, I need to keep investigating, to clear her name."

Justin’s face remained calm, his jawline tense, his voice cold.

"The Caldwell family’s affairs don’t need outsiders to intervene."

Philip Paxton seemed to hear something utterly ridiculous, scoffed, retorting.

"Outsiders? Ha, Senior Counselor Holden, aren’t you an outsider yourself?"

He assessed Justin up and down, "From what I know, when the Caldwell family had issues, you didn’t count yourself as part of the Caldwell family."

Justin’s eyes turned sharply cold, like countless ice spikes stabbing towards Philip Paxton.

He stepped closer, the air between them instantly tense, filled with silent tension.

"I’m not an outsider."

Justin’s voice was low, each word clearly uttered from his thin lips.

"I’m engaged to Claire Caldwell."

These words seemed to press a switch. Philip Paxton chuckled lightly, nodding exaggeratedly.

"Oh, right, engaged." He dragged his tone, "Engaged, wonderful, engaged, so in court, you helped your teacher to utterly destroy your fiancée’s family, the evidence chain flawless."

Philip Paxton also stepped closer, almost nose to nose with Justin, gaze intense, staring into his deep eyes filled with suppressed anger.

"Engaged, so watched her family crumble, watched her bear all the charges, watched her die in prison unjustly, Justin Holden, you truly fulfill your role as a fiancé."

The last three words were almost spat out through gritted teeth.

Justin Holden’s breath momentarily paused, his handsome face appearing extraordinarily pale under the sunlight, with deep, abyss-like black eyes swirling intensely.

His hand, hanging by his side, clenched tightly, knuckles turning white and blue.

But in the end, he said nothing.

No retorts, and certainly no explanations.

He turned around and strode away, his backside appearing somewhat stiff.

Philip Paxton stood in place, wiping his face hard.

He was still paying attention to the Caldwell family’s affairs, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been informed at the slightest sign of movement.

Justin Holden sat in the car, rubbing his brow as the screen of his phone lit up, showing a new message.

He swiped it open; it was sent by Jean Ellison.

"Lawyer Holden, regarding my case and the second trial... what do you think? Can you continue to be my defense lawyer?"

The text paused briefly, followed by another message.

"I know it’s presumptuous, but as for the current lawyer fees... I might temporarily be unable to pay in full. Can you... let it be credited first? I will definitely repay you, I can write an IOU."

Justin Holden’s gaze lingered on the screen, his slender fingers rubbing the cold edges of the phone.

He stared at those lines of text for a long time.

The screen dimmed, and he pressed it to light up again.

In the end, his fingers tapped out a reply on the keyboard, the tone was strictly businesslike, extremely cold, with no room for negotiation.

"No time, need to travel for work soon."

He held onto the phone, maintained that posture for a long while, the screen didn’t light up again, and no new messages appeared in the chat box.

The doorbell rang at home when the night was already deep.

Jean Ellison put down the law book she was halfway through reading and walked to the hallway, peering outside through the peephole.

Outside stood Samual Pryce, slightly taking the strain, with a tall man leaning against him, head hung low, his neatly cropped black hair looked very familiar.

Jean Ellison opened the door, a strong smell of alcohol rushed at her.

"Miss Ellison, sorry for bothering you so late."

Samual Pryce took a breath, struggling to support the man beside him.

Justin Holden’s head hung powerless, his disordered black hair covering part of his brows and eyes, breathing heavily with a strong smell of alcohol.

His tall body was slack, relying solely on Samual Pryce’s support to barely stand.

"He..." Jean Ellison frowned slightly.

"Drank too much," Samual Pryce interrupted her, his tone helpless, yet added with a meaningful tinge, "Never seen him drink like this before, and... he kept calling your name when drunk."

In the bar, there was a stranger woman, dressed seductively, taking advantage of him drinking to get close to him, seemed like she stuffed something into his clothing pocket.

His attitude was cold and hard, stating he had no interest in women and told her to steer clear.

The woman shot him a deep look, walked away unhappily in high heels.

After a few drinks, he called out Jean Ellison’s name, Samual Pryce thought he was hallucinating.

He wasn’t uninterested in women, he was only interested in a specific one.

Jean Ellison’s fingers instinctively clenched, a vertical line creased between her eyebrows.

The man seemed to hear a familiar voice, barely lifting his heavy eyelids.

The usual cold black eyes now draped in a scattered haze, trying to focus on Jean Ellison’s face.

In his eyes there was no typical aloofness, rather a kind of vulnerability and dependency, staring directly at her, his gaze was mesmerizing.

The collar of his shirt was pulled into disarray, exposing half of his collarbone, the chest slightly reddened.

The fabric of the shirt crumpled clinging to his body, outlining the muscular contours of the chest and the tight waistline.

Adam’s apple rolled up and down with difficult breaths, carrying an extremely sexy sense of powerlessness.

"Jean... Ellison...."

His thin lips slightly parted, hoarsely uttering her name, his breath full of intense alcohol aroma.

Low and blurred, yet like a small hook, tempting hearts, scratching at the tip of the heart.

Samual Pryce looked at the scene, timely speaking again, with a bit of pleading.

"I really can’t handle him, and I have an urgent call meeting later, Miss Ellison, why not... could you take care of him tonight?"

He spoke, almost half pushing, half helping Justin Holden, this "hot potato," into the door.

Justin Holden’s steps staggered, almost tumbling down with Jean Ellison.

His fevered body inevitably bumped into her, his arm unconsciously wrapped around her shoulders, his heavy head drooping by her neck.

His scorching breath and alcohol-laden hot breath sprayed onto the sensitive skin of her neck, making her shiver slightly.

Jean Ellison was forced to bear his weight, her palm touching the tense hot muscles of his arm.

His whole being was like a volcano about to lose control, exuding dangerous yet alluring masculine vibes.

The smell of alcohol aggressively invaded all her senses.

Seeing this, Samual Pryce quickly said, "Thank you, contact me by phone if anything," and fled out, closing the door.