Good Novel
Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Jolene smiled playfully, “Maybe I’m allergic to my new foundation. I was feeling some discomfort, so I just removed my makeup.”
Since he was busy with work, he didn’t pry any longer. And so the matter was resolved.
She felt her shoulders slump with relief.
Getting slapped in the face was no big deal. She already got it over with anyway.
However, if Mrs. Evert somehow found out, it would become a more serious problem.
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She needed to stomp out the flame before it grew into a blazing wildfire.
Once her afternoon freed up, she took the time to touch up her makeup.
After all, she had a date to get to in the evening. She knew that Mrs. Evert wouldn’t be happy if she showed up not looking her best.
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She was just a lowly slave on the social ladder, and she had many masters to serve.
Halfway through her makeup routine, she received a call from her mother.
Tucking her phone between her shoulder and her ear, she continued to retrace her eyeliner. “Mom, did you sleep well last night?”
When her mother opened her mouth, only a choked sob
came out.
Jolene immediately set down her eyeliner. Her throat tightened as she spoke, “Did he hit you again?”
“No, no…” Her mother’s voice was nasally and thick. “It’s just a little cold.”
“Mom, you need to move out. I’ll find you a lawyer to help you get a divorce. Why should you keep caring for a person like him?”
“He’s not a bad person,” her mother cried out. “He just has an interesting personality. And he provided for both you and Frank. We should be grateful for him.”
“I am grateful that he raised us. That’s why I’m paying him back with the money I earn. He can gamble as much as he
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wants and sleep with whoever he wants to. So why does he still choose to beat you?” Jolene rose up from her chair.
While most things no longer bothered her, she could never sit still when it came to her mother’s situation.
“Jolene,” her mother continued to cry as she spoke, her voice getting smaller and smaller, “Could you send me
Nothing agitated her anymore, except for what happened to her mother.
“Jolene,” her mother was still crying, only her voice was getting smaller: “can you give me this month’s living expenses in advance? I’m sorry…”
“Has he gone gambling again?”
“That’s all he likes to do…”
Jolene wanted nothing more than to demand that her stepfather ask her himself.
However, she thought better of it and remained quiet.
Her mother was still with him, so she had to rein in her temper for her sake.
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Despite her efforts to hold back, she couldn’t help but say, “Mom, I don’t want to keep hearing that he’s been hitting you. Even if you keep enduring your treatment, I won’t be able to. It’s only a matter of time
before I take up a knife and take matters into my own hands one day.”
Her mother continued to sob, struggling to catch her breath between her cries. “Jolene, please don’t talk like that. My heart’s going to break if I hear anymore. He doesn’t do it that often. He just has bad luck sometimes, and that puts him in a bad mood.”
Jolene could feel the throbbing of a headache start to form. She leaned forward to open her window, taking in a deep breath as the wind blew into her office. “That’s why I asked you to move out and live with me. You don’t have to divorce him just yet. Just stay with me for a while and give him some space to control himself.”
“But you’re always so busy and tired. How can I drag you down even more with my problems?”
Her heart wrenched, and she jerked around to fish for a cigarette from her drawer. When she did, though, she caught sight of Bowen standing in the doorway of her office.
She paused, cutting short whatever words had been bubbling up inside her.
“I see,” she said, lowering her voice, “Mom, I’ll talk to you
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“Hurry and go. Don’t fall behind on your work.”
Once she hung up, she turned to meet Bowen’s eyes with her usual bright smile plastered on her face.
“Mr. Evert, were you looking for me?”
Bowen had been standing at the door for a while.
He’d been there to talk to her about a contract but ended up overhearing her conversation on the phone:
It was rare to see such nervousness and anger in her expression.
Most of the time, it was as if she was a perfect robot programmed to keep her true thoughts buried inside her mind.
As he handed over the contract in his hand, he casually asked, “Anything I can help with?”