Nelson had an injury on his leg, which had been treated simply. His exposed calf showed alarming scars.
Callie remembered the scene at the factory where he saved Marilyn. The bodyguard had struck his leg with a wooden stick, showing no mercy. She darkened her gaze, “Does it affect your walking?”
“No,” Nelson replied, turning around and putting on long pants to cover the wound. “It’ll be fine in a few days.”
Callie didn’t believe him. Such an injury would require significant rest for an ordinary person to recover.
“Nelson,” she suddenly lowered her voice, “What were you thinking during those ten minutes when you saved Marilyn?”
Nelson paused as he dressed, seemingly recalling the moment. Then he said, “She couldn’t die, no matter what.”
“Why?”
“Callie, she represents the Ellison family.”
Cora’s words before her death still echoed in her ears. She had said that choosing Marilyn meant choosing benefits.
Nelson wasn’t holding onto Marilyn; he was holding onto benefits.
As Callie looked at the man’s back, she slowly understood this. She couldn’t describe her feelings; she felt a strange calmness. For this man, he would inevitably choose this path.
So what was there to resent?
Marilyn had been waiting downstairs for a long time. Nancy made her a bowl of hangover soup and politely said, “Miss Ellison, sorry for the poor hospitality.”
Marilyn smiled gently, “It’s very good. You must be Nancy. No need to treat me as a guest; I’ll be coming often in the future.”
The first part of her sentence was fine, but the latter part made Nancy feel uneasy. She nodded awkwardly and retreated.
“Awake?” A man’s voice came from upstairs. It was Nelson, fastening his cuffs as he strode down.
Marilyn glanced behind him; no one followed. She tilted her head and smiled sweetly, “Nelson, sorry for the trouble last night. You could have just called the Ellison family; someone would have come to pick me up.”
Nelson pulled out a chair and sat down, “You think your parents don’t hate me enough already?”
Marilyn laughed out loud, her face full of collagen, “No, my parents just complain verbally. They’re actually very satisfied with you and always praise you to me.”
Nelson remained noncommittal, “A top student returning from London working as an investigator in Vanco, isn’t that beneath you?”
“Work is work, no matter the size. I’m already content to be back home.” Marilyn cut into her poached egg with elegant and noble manners, befitting a natural-born socialite. “Besides, my first case is investigating the Oconnor Group. It’s such a coincidence, Nelson.”
They tacitly avoided mentioning another woman in Paucaster Villa Complex.
They were raised in the same environment, with matching temperaments and statuses. Callie stood on the third-floor corridor, hands on the railing, looking down at the scene below, feeling inferior.
Marilyn’s return was like a rich heiress reclaiming her rightful place.
And she? She would have to step aside sooner or later.
“What are you thinking about?” A voice suddenly appeared beside her; it was Ben.
He joined her in leaning on the railing, watching the scene below.
“Nothing,” Callie forced a smile. “Dr. Ben, can you accompany me out this afternoon? I want to meet a friend.”
Her injury wasn’t fully healed and she couldn’t walk far. Ben somehow procured a wheelchair and called Nelson to report. After a moment of silence, Nelson said, “Take her.”