CHAPTER 125: CHAPTER 125: WE’RE EVEN NOW

In the doctor’s office, the physician disinfected and applied medication to Poppy Hale’s wrist.

After wrapping it with gauze, he gave a few reminders.

"Avoid getting it wet and don’t overuse it for now."

Poppy Hale asked, "I need to draw, can I wear a wrist brace?"

The doctor frowned.

"Use it minimally. The brace is to protect your bones, it won’t protect your wound."

Young people nowadays just don’t listen.

Even though they are advised to rest well, they insist on working.

If the wrist sustains irreversible damage, crying won’t help then.

The doctor nagged on for a while.

Poppy Hale nodded.

Upon leaving the office, she was informed at the payment counter that her bill had already been settled.

The nurse pointed to Declan Hawthorne, who was smoking at the end of the corridor.

"Your husband has already paid for it."

On the other end of the corridor,

the man stood tall, casting a shadow on the polished floor.

He wore a black Burberry trench coat paired with somewhat carefree wide-leg pants, his fingers holding a cigarette that glowed crimson intermittently, exuding a nonchalant grace.

As Poppy Hale walked past, nurses passing by frequently turned back to look, their faces shy and blushing.

Poppy Hale walked toward him step by step.

The smell of disinfectant lingered everywhere in the hospital, filling her nasal passages, always making her feel a nagging sadness.

Poppy Hale stopped about a meter away in front of Declan Hawthorne.

"I’ll take the subway, there’s no need for you to trouble yourself taking me back."

Declan Hawthorne turned his head, looking down at her.

He slightly bent down, extinguished the cigarette butt between his fingers, and threw it into the trash can.

Standing up, he walked past Poppy Hale.

"Let’s go. I’m more convenient than the subway."

He walked ahead, so Poppy Hale had no choice but to follow.

On the way back, there was a bit of traffic congestion, possibly due to roadworks or a traffic accident.

The weather was cooling down, and the temperature dropped at night.

The wind blew on Poppy Hale’s face, and after a moment, she said, "I don’t like Mason Rivers, I never have, and I never will."

From the driver’s seat, Declan Hawthorne nodded.

"I know."

He knew.

But deep down, that hint of possessiveness loomed over him, wanting to possess her to the greatest extent.

"I can’t stand seeing you have a good relationship with him, is that a problem?"

Poppy Hale: "..."

No problem.

She took a deep breath.

Might as well let it all out.

"Then, was it a problem when I was unhappy that you never introduced me publicly before?"

Also no problem.

Declan Hawthorne pressed his lips together, "You never mentioned it before."

"Well, you never mentioned it either, so we’re even."

Declan Hawthorne didn’t respond.

Now, it seemed there was always something between them, even maintaining an ordinary friendship seemed extravagant.

She guarded against him, drawing a clear line, distinct and separate.

She was polite yet distant.

On the phone, she received the payment he had just made at the hospital.

Her attitude toward him was the same as toward Mason Rivers.

Completely clear, without any boundary-crossing.

The road ahead was clear.

As the car started moving, Poppy Hale seemed to hear Declan Hawthorne sigh, or maybe she heard nothing at all.

He said,

"How can we be even."

-

Poppy Hale returned home.

Truth Hale saw the gauze wrapped around her wrist and frowned, "What happened?"

"Nothing much, I’ve been drawing too many sketches recently, my hand’s a bit sore, so I went to the hospital to get it checked."

Being an art student, Poppy Hale had always had tendonitis.

Truth Hale didn’t think much of it, not suspecting anything further.

She pulled Poppy Hale along and said, "I’ve sold the house. After work tomorrow, you can go sign the contract and you’ll receive the payment."

"That fast?"

"The buyer is an old friend of your dad and mine, their family lives in the adjacent building and said they wanted to buy it together to make a rowhouse."

Poppy Hale nodded in agreement.

Truth Hale continued, "By the way, go get your computer, I have a video I want to watch."

Poppy Hale went and fetched the computer.

Truth Hale took out a surveillance camera from her bag, removed the memory card, and inserted it into the card reader.

Connected it to the computer.

Quickly, a few videos were retrieved.

The angle suggested they were from one of the rooms in the old house.

Truth Hale watched carefully for a moment.

Using the mouse, she dragged the progress bar forward.

At a certain point, a figure was seen climbing in through the window.

Rummaging through the house for quite some time, cautiously, seemingly searching for something.

Poppy Hale recognized the person as Eugene Lynch.

"What was he doing at the old house?"

Truth Hale smiled calmly.

"Looking for evidence."

"These past few days, when I visited, I deliberately let your uncle’s family know, but I didn’t mention selling the house."

"Every time I went, I’d stay for two hours, looking around. Your uncle probably thought there was something in the house he hadn’t found."

Poppy Hale looked at Truth Hale in astonishment.

On the old lady’s face, there was only a calm and calculating smile.

"I had installed surveillance early on. I was certain your uncle would go."

"What was he looking for?"

Truth Hale paused for a moment.

As if hesitant, as if needing to make a decision, her eyes lined with many wrinkles, her hair graying, short of breath even going up stairs.

She had grown old.

Truth Hale held Poppy Hale’s hand, softly saying, "Poppy, do you want to go into business? Would you take over your father’s company?"

"If mom still had the energy, I wouldn’t let you face it alone, but mom is old. When Florence grows a bit older, she can take over too."

She knew.

From a young age, Poppy Hale wasn’t interested in company affairs.

She loved drawing, loved art, always had whimsical ideas, loved romance.

But life doesn’t offer that much romanticism and artistry.

Poppy Hale grasped Truth Hale’s hand in return, her tone firm.

"I can do it. But the company’s affairs aren’t..."

Truth Hale pulled out a document from her bag.

It was the document Connor Lynch signed for the transfer of compensation to the injured workers, along with the successful transfer bank receipt.

Poppy Hale looked at the information, surprised, "It was successfully transferred?"

"Yes, but it was transferred away again, and the families haven’t received a penny. But that’s not our concern."

What she and Poppy Hale needed to care about was proving the Hale Group and Connor Lynch’s innocence.

Poppy Hale didn’t expect Truth Hale had been working on this.

"Why didn’t you tell me? Your health can’t withstand such hardships."

Chided by her daughter, Truth Hale wasn’t upset.

She smiled slightly, "I’m telling you now, not only that, I’m giving you a big burden. The company hasn’t operated for the last two or three years and is in shambles."

Poppy Hale reassured Truth Hale.

"I’ll do my best. I won’t let the efforts of you and dad go in vain."

Truth Hale’s face was full of a comforting smile, nodding in approval.

-

The next day, after signing the contract.

Both Truth Hale and Poppy Hale appeared as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

The buyer, an old friend of Truth Hale’s, also smiled and said, "You’re always welcome to visit if you want to."

Truth Hale jovially replied, "Once sold, it’s your home."

Poppy Hale walked behind with the buyer’s son, Truth Hale glanced back.

The other party raised an eyebrow.

"Your daughter, she’s single, right?"

Truth Hale understood and spoke frankly.

"She is single, but my daughter has a child."

The other party showed a bit of hesitation on his face too.