Who Cares About Him When I'm Married to the Richest Man?-Chapter 135: Jeff Jenkins’ Whereabouts

Elara was in so much pain that even her spirit was fragile. She nodded pitifully at Esther, "It hurts, really hurts. Now that the anesthesia has worn off, it feels like having my flesh cut."

Zion, who had just put down the lunchbox, froze briefly at her words.

Elara, not noticing Zion’s reaction, continued to seek comfort from Esther.

Esther was heartbroken, her eyes filled with tears, "You’ve suffered. Once you’re better, I’ll pop some champagne to celebrate, and we’ll go to the club and book eight male models!"

Elara pouted, "Eight is not enough~"

Esther was about to agree when she suddenly felt a chill down her back. Turning around, she met Zion’s polite smile. She flinched immediately, laughed it off, and patted Elara’s head, "Be good, as long as you’re fine. The male models don’t matter."

Elara glared at her in mock anger, "If you’re reluctant to spend money, just say so."

Esther didn’t dare argue, smiling sheepishly under the pressure from behind, "After all, I’m broke."

I’m guilty but happy.

She stayed a while longer and, taking the chance when Zion stepped out, leaned in close to whisper into Elara’s ear, "So, how far have you two progressed?"

Elara felt a jolt in her heart, "What do you mean by how far?"

Esther got anxious, "Oh dear, didn’t you say last time that you had feelings for him? It’s been over a month, no progress yet?"

Elara shook her head dejectedly, "I told you, we’re not like that..."

"Elara, please wipe your brain clean before you speak," Esther looked at her with frustrated disappointment, "You’ve been in the hospital for half the day, right? He put aside his work to be here for you. It looks like he’ll be here during your entire hospitalization, handling all your meals and errands. Can you honestly say there’s nothing between you two?"

Elara opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words.

Indeed, it’s been seven or eight hours since the car accident. Except for a brief return trip, Zion has been with her in the ward, taking care of everything.

But then...he’s always been so good-hearted, treating her as a good friend...

Elara instinctively glanced at Esther, feeling inexplicably guilty.

Esther immediately understood what she meant, crossing her arms in front of her chest, she declared resolutely, "Don’t look at me. If it were me, I’d just hire a nurse for you and deliver meals regularly. I’d never give up my work."

Elara, hit right in her thoughts, felt even guiltier at once. In all honesty, if it were her situation, she’d do exactly what Esther would do.

After all, as long as someone is fine, they won’t die, but work can’t be abandoned.

Esther knew her mind was in turmoil, but nonchalantly added another jab, "Honestly, he now looks a lot like you two years ago, ditching work for a guy, that lovesick pattern is identical."

Elara suddenly felt even more chaotic inside.

Esther’s words somehow gave her an inexplicable bit of confidence, making it seem as if Zion was genuinely interested in her.

Perhaps...

Should she ask?

Noticing the contemplative look on Elara’s face, Esther smiled with satisfaction. Using the excuse of having something at the film set, she conveniently left, taking her credit well concealed.

After Zion returned, he immediately noticed that something was off with Elara.

Earlier, she was grinning and grimacing from the pain, struggling whether to lie down or sit up, which tugged at his heartstrings. He had gone to ask the attending doctor if she could have some pain relief, something that wouldn’t affect her body and would ease her discomfort a bit.

But the doctor said she needed to heal her wounds as soon as possible, and that the pain would prevent her from straining the wound. If she were to use anesthesia and make significant movements that tore the wound open, she’d suffer even longer.

So Zion had no choice but to come back, initially feeling particularly guilty for not being able to share her pain. But upon returning, he found her sitting there looking distracted, muttering to herself, occasionally glancing at him but turning away with a heavy look.

He sat there for ten minutes, and she looked at him no less than three times during that span.

She might think she’s hiding it well, but a man adept at navigating human psychology in the business world could almost immediately see through it.

She had something on her mind, something related to him, and it was making it difficult for her to speak up.

Was she thinking this car accident was all because of him and wanting to sever ties?

Or was she contemplating a divorce and moving out for a clean break or something like that?

He carefully recalled the events over the past few days. Didn’t seem like he caused her much trouble, did he?

Suddenly, Elara turned to him, as if she had made up her mind. She took a deep breath and said, "Zion, I have something to ask you."

Zion looked up at her, with an encouraging smile and a cautious voice, "What is it?"

—Do you like me?

Elara was initially determined to ask him this question.

But as the words neared her lips, she hesitated; Zion’s gaze was too sincere, too clear.

She felt that voicing this question would insult him.

After all, before they got married, he clearly emphasized that he only liked men.

If she asked him that, wouldn’t he find it disgusting?

Zara once had a female friend confess to him, and he had described the feeling to her and Esther: It’s like being forced to swallow a piece of chocolate covered in shit. I treated her as a friend, and she wanted to sleep with me!

Elara shivered at the thought, resolutely swallowed that sentence back down, and instead asked, "Being here taking care of me, is it delaying your work?"

Zion was originally listening intently, and when she said that, his fingers paused slightly on his knees, then he laughed and shook his head, "No problem at all. Sales work is flexible with both time and location; you see I’ve stayed here all day, yet it doesn’t stop me from taking calls."

Elara felt a slight relief inside, though it was coupled with a bit of inexplicable disappointment.

Zion obviously noticed her hesitation to speak, also recognizing that what she wanted to ask was not this, but what he thought was poles apart from what Elara had in mind. After considering it for a moment, he proactively said, "Joanne has been taken back, I watched her eat, reminded her to finish her homework and go to bed quickly. I’ll go back and check after you fall asleep, so you don’t have to worry."

If she still harbored notions of taking Joanne to move out, he had to put on a good show; he couldn’t let her use him and dump him.

He paused, then added, "Your dad can get out of bed with his legs today. I specially asked Dr. Chambers, who said he shouldn’t be complacent within this year and should regularly check up. Let Felix contact him when the time comes."

Now that it involves her father, she shouldn’t just burn bridges, right? If she moved out and broke off relations, consulting Felix in the future would be difficult, so she would have to think it over, right?

Zion praised his own cleverness.

Elara, however, truly hadn’t thought that deeply. Unable to voice that question, with her thoughts about him concealed, her heart was already tinged with bitterness. Hearing how orderly everything was arranged by him, she suddenly felt like crying, also feeling moved.

To avoid sinking into emotions she couldn’t pull herself out of, she had to change the topic, asking, "The car accident was so massive, with many injured. Why did that muck truck suddenly lose control? Did the police come to any conclusion?"

On hearing her question, Zion slowly sat up straight, his expression became serious, with a flash of grief passing in his eyes. The car accident had already been reported widely by various media outlets. While he could protect Elara, he couldn’t stop the incident from swelling.

Even if he didn’t tell her, she would learn about it from other sources.

Simply put, there was no need to hide it from her, "There were a total of four fatalities in the car accident. One died on the spot, and the other three were taken to the hospital where they died despite rescue efforts. Aside from them, the rest sustained minor injuries."

Including her, there were twelve people with minor injuries.

It was evident that the dump truck didn’t just lose control suddenly. They were there with the intent to kill; otherwise, how could a dump truck cause so many casualties?

Elara also sensed something amiss and nervously asked, "That driver..."

"The driver was the one who died on the spot," Zion Fitzwilliam said somberly.

Assistant Harris had already found out that the dump truck driver was undocumented. Upon further investigation, he was someone whose identity was long canceled and registered as deceased.

No family, no relatives, no friends, and he died on the spot.

The origin of the dump truck was traced back to a vehicle recycling factory, but the factory owner couldn’t explain why the truck was driven away.

This matter would be difficult to investigate further.

"Driver died on the spot..." Elara was stunned for a moment, "So this accident..."

Zion Fitzwilliam knew what she meant and explained proactively, "Yes, there’s no liable party to take responsibility for this accident."

In other words, the consequences of injuries or fatalities in this accident had to be borne by the victims themselves.

These over a dozen people were all innocent.

Elara couldn’t quite describe her feelings. She had savings, and her injuries weren’t severe, so paying for her own treatment wasn’t a problem. But for others, especially the three who lost their lives, who would be accountable for their deaths?

Zion Fitzwilliam hesitated for a moment and said, "But there’s news that an anonymous wealthy donor has donated a substantial amount of money to assist those injured in the accident."

Elara finally breathed a sigh of relief, "That’s good."

Zion Fitzwilliam saw her finally eases her frown and immediately opened his phone to send a WeChat message to Assistant Harris, instructing him to donate three hundred thousand to each injured person and a million to each deceased in his name.

On the other end, Assistant Harris was baffled, wondering why President Fitzwilliam was now involving himself in this matter.

Elara was unaware of all this, feeling exhausted, she fell asleep after a short conversation.

Zion Fitzwilliam stood up and clapped his hands. A middle-aged woman dressed as a nurse walked over respectfully, "President Fitzwilliam."

Zion Fitzwilliam commanded in a deep voice, "Take good care of her, and don’t let any strangers in. Inform me immediately when she wakes up."

The middle-aged woman nodded, "Yes."

Zion Fitzwilliam turned and left.

He had already deployed bodyguards at the hospital for protection, so he wasn’t worried about any issues arising.

He urgently needed to find out who was behind the dump truck. The foreign team had arrived, and he had to meet with them.

Meanwhile.

As soon as Mason Jacobs left the hospital and saw the video footage of the dump truck losing control, he immediately identified who was responsible.

The footage clearly showed that the dump truck targeted Elara, though it seemed intentional as the truck also swept past several pedestrians, causing extensive damage.

Such ruthless brutality, without any room for mercy.

Besides Jeff Jenkins, he couldn’t think of anyone else.

Recalling Special Assistant Wood’s recent report that Jeff Jenkins wanted to harm Elara, fury surged in his heart. That bastard dared!

Once he caught Jeff Jenkins, he’d ensure he’d pay dearly!

Even if divorced, she was still his ex-wife!

At this moment, he totally forgot he had previously turned a blind eye to Jeff Jenkins harming her due to Elara’s contempt for him.

Mason Jacobs was seething with anger, flooring the gas pedal as he sped down a remote road in the dark, having devised countless ways for Jeff Jenkins to meet his end, yet clueless about his whereabouts!

That filthy rat hid too well!

His men were monitoring every potential hideout Jeff Jenkins might have domestically, but he was nowhere to be found.

Where could he be?

Mason Jacobs pondered, then received a call from Special Assistant Wood, "President Jacobs, we’ve found Jeff Jenkins! He never entered Northgarde, and his phone signal was detected five minutes ago in a small village six kilometers from Northgarde!"

A bloodthirsty gleam flashed in Mason Jacobs’ eyes, "Send me the location!"

Special Assistant Wood, still a bit hesitant, asked, "President Jacobs, should we send more men?"

After all, Jeff Jenkins had blood on his hands and was a dangerous fugitive.

He feared President Jacobs couldn’t handle him alone.

Mason Jacobs merely chuckled coldly, "No need."

More people would just spoil his fun!

He clicked open the location Special Assistant Wood sent and quickly turned the car around, heading in a new direction.

An hour later, he had driven into the small village marked on the map.

It was already past nine; the villagers slept early, so the entire village was eerily quiet, with only occasional bird chirps and barking dogs piercing through the night.

Mason Jacobs drove slowly, prowling through the village at 20 miles per hour.

Jeff Jenkins must be well-hidden, and he needed patience to find him.

Meanwhile, in a luxurious apartment downtown Northgarde, seven or eight people stood in the opulent living room, all eyes fixed on surveillance footage.

A map lay next to the screen.

Zion Fitzwilliam sat among them, pointing at a small dot on the surveillance footage, "Is it this person?"

Quincy Chambers, the main technical researcher, nodded decisively, "Yes, it’s him. He contacted the dump truck driver at 6:10 and left at 6:16. He never returned to Northgarde afterward. The accident happened after they met, making him the primary suspect from any angle."

"This is the route he took after leaving." Quincy Chambers pointed at the nearby map, "We hacked the official surveillance to get this complete route through technical comparison. He should be hiding in a small village called Dawnhaven Village."

Zion Fitzwilliam stood up, "Pick ten men and come with me."

He grabbed his jacket and headed out.

The team exchanged glances, then looked to Assistant Harris, silently questioning: Did President Fitzwilliam intend to go personally?