Chapter 13

Benjamin quickly signed the intent money for the case.

The amount was three hundred thousand, with tight deadlines and frequent running around.

Over the next half month, I would occasionally run into Alexander Vance.

He often had two cups of coffee in his hands, naturally handing me one, “I remember you used to like iced Americanos.”

I took it upstairs and gave it to Benjamin.

Alexander Vance remembered my love for coffee during college.

Yet he forgot about my stomach cancer, which meant I couldn’t handle such stimulants anymore.

At nine in the evening, I bumped into him again in the elevator.

Today, Alexander Vance was wearing a white shirt, a platinum watch, and white shoes.

He was tiredly pinching his brow, still looking handsome.

I just wanted to laugh at myself.

–At least fifteen years of memories were tied to an exceptionally good-looking face; youth wasn’t entirely wasted.

He looked momentarily dazed upon seeing me, saying, “You’re busy until this late?”

His brows furrowed as he stared at me, with a tone of concern mixed with reproach, “Eleanor Vance, I’ve given you so much money, do you really need to work so hard?”

“Firstly, the money is what I fought for myself.” I straightened my back and looked directly at him, “Secondly, I enjoy working.”

“Otherwise, if I had been lazy back then, I wouldn’t have worked myself into illness.”

Alexander Vance’s disdain for me wasn’t sharp or harsh, but rather an instinctive denial.

Five years ago, when I got sick and was laid off, it was because I was incompetent and didn’t love my work.

These past two years, as I took on cases and struggled to start over, it was because my skills had deteriorated.

There was a flash of familiar admiration in Alexander Vance’s eyes.

He awkwardly turned his head away, “I thought after all these years at home, you wouldn’t like it anymore.”

“But you should also take care of your health.”

I looked at him expressionlessly, my voice steady, “Alexander Vance, your concern now is just too insincere.”

A man who didn’t care for me when I was sick, any verbal concern now is just manipulation.

The elevator arrived.

I walked in first, without hesitation, and pressed the close button.

Before the elevator doors closed, I told him, “Remember, tomorrow at 9 AM, the civil affairs bureau.”

Alexander Vance’s eyes sparkled with a sudden realization.