Chapter 7 She’s Not Liked
Jackson’s women had a shelf life of three months. During that time, if he needed anything, they had to be at his beck and call. They weren’t allowed to visit him at his company or cause trouble. Once the three months were up, they were expected to leave and not look back.
Rumor had it that Jackson was cold and indifferent by nature, yet women still flocked to him, eager to get into his bed.
Not only was he rich and powerful, but he also treated women generously. After the three months were over, they were sent off with a generous severance package.
Jackson didn’t linger. He opened the door and left.
Elaine picked up the check from the bedside table, staring at the figure written on it. A self–mocking smile tugged at her lips. 170 thousand dollars…
Because Cordell didn’t need her, she had given the most precious thing she had to a stranger.
This man, in both looks and background, was no less impressive than Cordell, so she wasn’t losing out, right?
Then why did it hurt so much? The kind of pain that came from being
discarded but still unwilling to let go.
A cold tear slid down her cheek, and she bit her wrist, trying to stop herself from crying.
*****
The Valentine family estate had been passed down through
generations. It was a grand, old house that resembled a castle, with ivy crawling up the red brick walls, the green vines bright and striking in the sunlight.
Tall, sturdy sycamore trees lined the yard, the flowerbeds were neat and beautiful, and the fountain sparkled like a goddess scattering flowers. In the summer, walking along the shady paths beneath the trees was cool and refreshing.
Elaine had a lounge chair set up by the flowerbed on the lawn. She sat quietly, reading a book, with a cup of coffee resting on the small glass table beside her. It was a scene of perfect peace, like stealing a few moments of blissful calm.
Olivia hurried over, her voice filled with excitement. “Ms. Valentine, your father and grandfather are back.”
“I know,” Elaine replied, closing her book. She composed herself and walked back to the living room.
In the living room, an elderly man in his sixties sat on the sofa, dressed in a traditional suit. He held a finely carved cane and wore a ring on his thumb, his graying hair perfectly groomed.
Beside him sat a couple who looked weary from travel. The man wore a suit, and the woman wore a deep purple dress, draped with a beige shawl. They exuded an air of wealth and elegance.
Elaine changed her shoes at the entrance and walked into the living room. “Grandfather, Dad, Mom.”
Marcelo gave a brief nod. In contrast to his indifference, Constance Valentine eagerly stepped forward, gently touching Elaine’s thin face, her eyes glistening with tears. “Elaine, you’ve lost weight.”
Elaine opened her mouth, about to respond, but just then, a cold snort echoed through the quiet room.
She turned her gaze toward the sound, meeting the stern eyes of her grandfather Abraham Valentine, who glared at her. “So, you finally decided to come back?”
She pressed her lips together and remained silent.
Abraham had never liked her.
After Constance lost a lot of blood during her birth and couldn’t have more children, the male line of the Valentine family was cut off with
Marcelo.
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The Valentine family had vast wealth, and someone had to inherit it. Abraham had suggested that Marcelo take a mistress, have a son, and bring him into the family, paying the woman off and sending her away from Aleshire.
Marcelo and Constance had been high school classmates, and their relationship had been solid ever since. They started dating in college and had been happily married for many years.
Marcelo had firmly rejected Abraham’s proposal, and the two often argued about it, to the point that Abraham once became so angry he had to be hospitalized.
