Give Up, Mr. Lawyer! This is Not Your Child-Chapter 189: I Accept Your Interview

Justin Holden sat in the shadowy corner, never glancing at the door nor uttering a single word on behalf of Jean Ellison.

He swirled the wine in his glass slowly, exuding a demeanor of indifference that kept others at a distance, making it seem like he had nothing to do with Reporter Ellison at the entrance.

Or even said they were strangers.

Samual Pryce observed this and cursed Justin Holden inwardly for his act, but he wore an even more enthusiastic smile on his face, patting Attorney Lewis, who was blocking the door, on the shoulder.

"Attorney Lewis, give us a bit of respect, this is Reporter Ellison, a long-time acquaintance of Lawyer Holden."

"We’re all friends here, don’t make it seem so distant."

His voice was loud enough for many in the room to hear, prompting them to subconsciously glance towards Justin Holden in the corner.

Justin remained unreactive, neither acknowledging nor denying, only finishing the last sip of his wine in one gulp.

Seeing this, Attorney Lewis looked suspiciously at Samual Pryce and secretly glanced at the indifferent Justin Holden.

Since even the difficult-to-please Justin Holden did not object, he hesitated for a moment before reluctantly stepping aside.

With a gruff voice, he said, "Since she’s an acquaintance, let her in. But as for the interview, you still need to mind your boundaries."

"Thank you, thank you, Attorney Lewis."

Jean Ellison quickly thanked him and stepped into the room briskly.

She wore a polite smile and walked straight to Attorney Lewis, taking out a recording pen and notebook again.

"Attorney Lewis, shall we continue with the previous question?"

"Regarding the self-defense case you’re representing, how do you view..."

Attorney Lewis had just sat down and picked up a peanut with his chopsticks. Hearing this, he put the chopsticks down and showed a look of impatience, interrupting her.

"Ah, Reporter Ellison, why are you in such a hurry? Can’t you see we’re having a celebratory drink?"

He gestured to the plethora of liquor bottles and glasses on the table.

"Don’t you know the rules? You drink first, then talk business. You came in empty-handed, opening your mouth to interview, isn’t that inappropriate?"

Jean Ellison’s smile froze for a moment, then she nodded.

"My apologies for being inconsiderate. Let me toast to you."

She picked up an empty glass nearby, poured herself a shot of white liquor, gestured to Attorney Lewis, and then swallowed it in one go.

The spicy liquid burned its way down her throat, making Jean cough lightly, her cheeks rapidly turning red.

Attorney Lewis watched her finish but showed no signs of letting it go.

He chuckled, tapping his fingers on the table.

On the table was a row of small glasses, about ten, all filled with clear white liquor.

"One glass isn’t enough, Reporter Ellison. Your sincerity lacks."

Attorney Lewis leaned back in his chair, his tone teasing.

"If you want the interview, at least finish this row, let everyone see your sincerity."

Jean Ellison looked at the row of small glasses, estimated the amount, and felt that although it was a bit much, it should still be manageable.

Not wanting to miss the interview opportunity, she took a deep breath, picked up the first glass, and downed it in one go.

Then came the second glass, and the third glass...

Downing three consecutive glasses of strong liquor, her stomach felt like it was on fire, and her head began to spin.

Attorney Lewis and the other lawyers watching cheered her on, "Great, Reporter Ellison, impressive!"

Attorney Lewis, with a malicious grin, looked up and down at the blushing Jean, whose eyes were starting to look bewildered.

He teased.

"Tsk tsk, I never realized, Reporter Ellison, as a woman, can hold her liquor so well."

"Seems like you’ve practiced, haven’t spent little time socializing and drinking with men outside, huh?"

The words carried an obvious connotation of disdain and insinuation.

A few lawyers around let out ambiguous chuckles.

The tipsy Jean Ellison, slow to react, didn’t fully grasp the deeper meaning of Attorney Lewis’s words, only feeling that he was complimenting her drinking skills.

She forced a stiff smile through her discomfort, still thinking of pursuing her questions.

"Attorney Lewis, you’re too kind. Now regarding the case..."

"Enough."

A cold voice suddenly rang out, like an ice cube crashing into the lively room, instantly suppressing all the commotion.

Everyone turned to look.

In the corner, Justin Holden had somehow already stood up.

His face was frighteningly gloomy, his jawline tightly clenched, and his eyes harshly fixed on Attorney Lewis and the crowd jeering.

The whiskey glass that had been in his hand was now shattered on the carpet, the amber liquid mixing with the shards of glass.

The room fell instantly silent.

Justin took long strides, reaching Jean Ellison in a few steps, who was still holding a glass, looking confused.

He grabbed her wrist, with a grip so strong it was impossible to shake off.

"That’s enough for tonight."

He didn’t even glance at the others in the room, leaving those words as he pulled Jean Ellison to leave.

Jean stumbled as he pulled her, the pain from her wrist bringing her somewhat back to her senses.

She struggled, her voice carrying the stubbornness and grievance of someone drunk.

"What are you doing? I haven’t finished my interview, let me go."

Justin Holden stopped in his tracks, looked back at her, his gaze deep and complex, tinged with anger.

A deep voice said, "What do you want to interview? Ask me."

He knew all the cases his subordinates handled; no one was more suitable for the interview than him.

Everyone in the private room was stunned, staring at Justin Holden and Jean Ellison, who he was holding tightly, with disbelief written all over their faces.

Justin Holden was notoriously averse to journalists, never accepting interviews, let alone actively volunteering like this.

Samual Pryce, seeing the situation about to spiral out of control, quickly stepped forward to diffuse it.

He laughed awkwardly at his colleagues exchanging glances.

"Haha, everyone, don’t misunderstand, don’t misunderstand. Lawyer Holden and Reporter Ellison are just ordinary friends, yes, just ordinary friends."

"Lawyer Holden saw that Reporter Ellison drank too much and, out of friendship, offered to take her home. There’s no other meaning, don’t think too much about it."

As he spoke, he desperately signaled to everyone with his eyes.

Everyone present was shrewd; they saw the dark-as-coal face of Justin, looked at Jean, who was drunkenly held tightly by him, and heard Samual’s flimsy explanation, understanding everything clearly.

What ordinary friends?

Since when did Justin Holden ever care so much for ordinary friends?

But since Samual Pryce said it like this, and Justin Holden himself didn’t deny it, everyone tacitly averted their eyes, pretending to drink, chat, and act as if they saw and heard nothing.

Justin Holden ignored everyone in the room, pulling the unstable Jean Ellison out without looking back.

Leaving the bar, Justin Holden stuffed Jean into the passenger seat, closed the door, and walked to the driver’s seat.

He gripped the steering wheel, eyes forward, his voice cold and hard.

"What exactly do you want to do?"

Jean leaned back in the seat, her head spinning, her stomach churning.

She closed her eyes, mumbling her answer.

"Work, I just want to work well."

"There are many ways to work."

Justin Holden’s tone carried suppressed anger.

"When you’re told to drink, you drink. When you’re told to drink a line of shots, you do it. Can’t you refuse?"

Jean was silent, not answering.

Refuse?

How would such a high-and-mighty lawyer understand how hard it is for a single woman with no background, raising a daughter alone, to fight for a job opportunity?

Sometimes, you just have to swallow minor rules and grievances silently.

After a while, the car stopped at a red light.

Jean suddenly felt very suffocated, struggling to grasp the car door handle, she stumbled out, bending over and retching, but nothing came out.

The night wind blew, and her intoxication surged; she felt the world spinning around her.

Justin watched her in this miserable state, his brows tightly knitted.

He instantly got out of the car, walked around the front, and reached out to support her teetering frame.

"I’ll take you home." His tone was uncompromising.

"No need." Jean tried to push him away, her steps unsteady, "I can go home myself."

She pulled away from his support and staggered a few steps forward.

Justin stood still, watching her wobbling silhouette, not immediately following.

As expected, she hadn’t walked ten meters before her feet gave way, and with a thud, she fell heavily onto the sidewalk.

Her knee hit the hard pavement, sending a sharp pain through her, clearing her mind for a moment, but the pain combined with her drunkenness quickly caused her eyes to well up with tears.

Justin quickly walked over and, before she could attempt to stand, bent down, slid an arm under her knees and another around her back, and with a slight effort, lifted her horizontally.

Jean gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Let me go."

She struggled weakly, her voice tinged with tears.

Justin held her, walking steadily toward the parked car, his voice above her head holding a mix of concession and irrefutability.

"I’ll accept your interview."

Jean’s struggling paused; she lifted her dazed, drunken eyes to look at him.

Justin glanced down at her, continuing, "Now sleep well, when you’re sober and clear-headed, ask what you want, I’ll answer it."

Hearing that the interview was finally settled, the tense string inside her seemed to loosen all at once.

She stopped struggling, her head leaning against Justin’s solid, warm chest, and almost instantly fell into a deep sleep, her breathing becoming even and long.

Justin held her, looking down at her unguarded sleeping face.

The soft streetlamp light outlined her delicate profile, casting faint shadows under her long eyelashes.

Her cheeks flushed unnaturally with the alcohol, lips slightly parted, looking unusually beautiful and pure.

His gaze lingered on her face for a long time, a strange sense of familiarity and excitement resurfacing in his heart.

This face looked so much like the willful, naive Claire Caldwell from his deep memories.

But she wasn’t Claire Caldwell.

The paternity test was in black and white; Jesse wasn’t his daughter.

She had also directly denied it, stating she was Jamie York, and her animosity toward him was only because he had personally sent her intoxicated, hit-and-run father to prison.

Justin withdrew his gaze, no longer looking at her, and carried her steadily to the car. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

The next morning, Jean woke up in a resting room at the law firm, where there was a bed.