Give Up, Mr. Lawyer! This is Not Your Child-Chapter 139: 12:50

The morning light pierced through the curtain gaps, stabbing Justin Holden’s eyelids.

His head was pounding, his throat was burning dry, and his stomach churned tumultuously.

When he opened his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling. Underneath him was the sofa in the guest room of Samual Pryce’s home.

Broken memories from last night rushed in like a tide.

Drunkenness, loss of composure, and the heart-piercing words from Wendy Wallace.

He sat up, rubbed his throbbing temples, his movements somewhat sluggish.

Sometime unknown, his phone had been placed on the coffee table by Samual Pryce, its battery fully charged.

He picked it up; the screen was clean, with no missed calls or new messages.

An empty feeling tugged at his heart.

Footsteps came from outside the guest room door, followed by Samual Pryce’s cautious knock: "Are you awake?"

Justin Holden cleared his sandy throat and responded: "Yes."

Samual Pryce pushed the door open, holding a cup of warm water in his hand.

"Have some water first. Wendy made some porridge and pickles. Want to come out and eat a bit?"

Justin took the cup and drank more than half in one go, the cold water temporarily relieving the discomfort in his throat.

He put the cup down, stood up, and began tidying his wrinkled shirt, his tone regaining its usual aloofness.

"No need to eat, there’s work at the law firm."

His actions seemed orderly, but his fingers trembled slightly and disobediently when buttoning his shirt. It took several tries to get the first button right.

Watching Justin’s pretense of composure, Samual Pryce hesitated to speak.

He held his phone, the screen still lit, showing a message just forwarded by Lawyer Warner.

After much hesitation, seeing Justin already grabbing his suit jacket to leave, he finally spoke up.

"Justin," Samual Pryce’s voice was a bit hoarse, "I just received a message from Lawyer Warner. It’s a farewell message from Jean Ellison to Lawyer Warner."

Justin’s action of putting on his jacket instantly froze. With his back to Samual Pryce, his expression couldn’t be seen, only the broad line of his back suddenly stiffened.

Samual Pryce looked at the phone screen and read out the gist of the message.

"Lawyer Warner, thank you for your previous help. Jesse and I are leaving for Gresten today, in a hurry for our flight, so I couldn’t say goodbye in person. This is just to let you know online. We might not come back for a few years. Thanks again."

He paused, adding, "The message was sent a little after seven this morning. Her flight to Aldric departs at eleven-thirty this morning."

The air seemed to freeze.

Justin maintained his posture of putting on the jacket, motionless.

The oppressive silence in the guest room was suffocating.

It took a full half-minute before he turned around very slowly. There was no visible emotion on his face, only a deeply suppressed ripple in the depths of his eyes.

"Oh," he responded indifferently, his voice eerily calm, "Got it."

He continued to put on his jacket, adjusting his collar, and his movements became swift once more, as if the previous stiffness had been an illusion.

Samual Pryce watched him, unable to resist asking, "The flight’s at eleven-fifty. If you head to the airport now, you might still make it. Do you want to go see her one last time?"

Justin had already reached the guest room door, his hand on the doorknob.

He didn’t turn back, his voice clear, carrying a deliberate detachment.

"The law firm has a morning meeting today, and there are a few important documents waiting for my signature. I’ve scheduled an appointment with a client this afternoon. No time."

After speaking, he turned the doorknob and walked out straightforwardly.

Passing through the living room, Wendy, who was slowly sipping porridge at the dining table, raised her head and gave him a cold glance without speaking.

Justin acted as if he didn’t notice, striding towards the hallway, changing his shoes, opening the door, and closing it.

The series of actions was crisp and neat, without a hint of hesitation or nostalgia.

The "bang" of the door closing echoed, and Samual Pryce sighed, walking over to sit at the dining table.

Wendy put down her spoon and snorted, "He acts the part well. Who knows how messy he feels inside."

Samual Pryce shook his head, "You should say less."

Justin got into the driver’s seat and started the car.

The engine’s roar sounded especially loud in the quiet underground garage.

His hand was steady as he fastened the seatbelt, his face expressionless.

The car smoothly pulled out of the community and merged into the rush hour traffic.

At exactly nine o’clock, his black sedan parked downstairs at the law firm’s building.

He glanced up at the towering glass facade, the sunlight glaringly bright.

He took a deep breath, as if to thoroughly suppress some emotion, then opened the door, stepping steadily into the building.

"Morning, Lawyer Holden."

"Morning."

The assistant and colleagues he encountered greeted him respectfully.

Justin nodded slightly, his steps uninterrupted, walking straight to his office.

At 9:05, he sat behind his spacious desk and turned on his computer.

The desk was neat and tidy, just like his mind had to be at that moment.

He opened his schedule; the morning was packed with appointments.

At 9:30, a partner meeting; at 10:40, a few urgent contracts needed signing; at 11:00, a phone meeting with an important client.

He picked up the internal phone, his voice calm as usual, "Please bring in the materials needed for the meeting, and also remind Lawyer Thorne that the phone meeting is at eleven sharp."

"Okay, Lawyer Holden."

At 9:30, the top-floor conference room.

Justin sat at the head of the table, listening to his subordinates report on recent case progress.

He occasionally asked questions, getting to the heart of the matter, and gave clear and precise instructions.

He sat upright, his gaze sharp, appearing fully focused. Only his left hand under the table, unconsciously and repeatedly, rubbed the fabric of his suit pants.

Midway through the meeting, his eyes inadvertently swept across the clock on the meeting room wall. The second hand ticked steadily. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. The coffee was already cold, its bitter taste spreading across his tongue.

After a few minutes, he interrupted a lawyer’s lengthy statement, concisely pointing out its flaws and demanding a revised plan before the end of the day.

His tone was unquestionable.

The lawyer quickly nodded.

Justin Holden lowered his eyelids, tapping his fingertips lightly on the smooth conference table surface, the rhythm somewhat disordered.

The meeting ended. Everyone got up to leave.

Justin Holden remained seated, unmoved.

He picked up his phone, unlocked it, and the screen stayed on the home page.

There were no new messages.

His thumb hovered over the name "Jean Ellison" in the contacts for a full three seconds, but ultimately he just turned off the screen and placed the phone face down on the table.

He returned to his office.

His subordinate lawyers had neatly placed the documents requiring his signature on his desk.

He sat down, picked up his pen, and began reviewing and signing each one.

His signature remained as sharp and graceful as ever.

However, on the last document, the pen tip stalled slightly on the paper, leaving a barely noticeable ink blot.

He frowned, pulled out that sheet, crumpled it, and tossed it into the wastebasket, turning to the lawyer beside him.

"Print this one again."

The documents were all processed.

The subordinate left with the papers.

Only he remained in the office.

He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and rubbed his brow.

It was very quiet, with only the faint sound of the air conditioning system running.

He suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze cast out the window.

From this height, one could see a corner of the city and the vague outline of the highway leading to the airport in the distance.

At exactly eleven o’clock, the desktop phone rang on time.

It reminded him that the conference call was about to begin, and he took a deep breath, sat up straight, picked up the receiver, and pressed the answer button.

"Hello, President Lewis, this is Justin Holden."

His voice transmitted through the receiver, steady and professional, revealing no anomalies.

He communicated with the client on the other end about complex legal terms, his speech steady and logical clear.

Ten minutes later, the call continued.

His gaze once again swept over the time displayed at the bottom right corner of the computer screen.

The knuckles of his hand holding the receiver were somewhat white.

The conference call was finally approaching its end, and a preliminary consensus was reached between the parties.

Justin Holden said, "Alright, I’ll have Attorney Pryce organize the details into a document and send it to you. I look forward to our cooperation."

He hung up the phone, and the office instantly fell silent.

Eleven twenty-five.

Eleven twenty-eight.

Eleven thirty.

The time was almost up.

Justin Holden maintained the posture he had after the call, sitting motionless in the chair, his eyes fixed on some void point outside the window.

The calm mask on his face finally showed a crack, the line of his jaw tense, his lips pressed into a pale straight line.

In his deep, unfathomable eyes, there was now a vacant emptiness, as if suddenly drained of all support.

He held this position for a long, long time.

Until the office door was gently knocked, and Attorney Sinclair’s voice came through.

"Lawyer Holden, your next clients are already here."

Justin Holden snapped back to reality.

He blinked, the emptiness in his eyes quickly replaced by his usual sternness.

He stood up, adjusted his tie and suit jacket without clues, walked to the door, and opened it.

"Lead them to meeting room three, I’ll be right there."

His voice was still steady, with no detectable waves.

"Alright, Lawyer Holden."

Justin Holden walked toward the meeting room, his steps still steady.

Inside meeting room three, on both sides of the long conference table, representatives from the other company and several partner lawyers from his firm were already seated.

Steam rose in wisps from the teacups, and documents were neatly placed in front of everyone.

Only the main seat was vacant.

An older representative from the other side glanced at his watch, frowning slightly, but refrained from speaking due to politeness.

Senior partner Attorney Wright cleared his throat, his gaze shifting to the young lawyer Sinclair, seated at the end, responsible for meeting arrangements.

"Sinclair, where’s Lawyer Holden? Didn’t you say he had already come over?"

Attorney Sinclair quickly stood up, looking somewhat embarrassed and unsure.

"Attorney Wright, I did see Lawyer Holden leave the office a few minutes ago and head towards the meeting room, he should have arrived by now."

Another colleague also quietly agreed, "Yeah, I saw him too, even greeted Lawyer Holden, but he seemed distracted and didn’t notice me."

This was peculiar.

From Justin Holden’s office to meeting room three was merely a two-minute walk.

Everyone was puzzled, not knowing where he went, but no one dared to call and urge him, merely sitting idly, waiting.