Chapter 146
The Ceo’s Convict Wife
Rosalie anxiously asked where her album was. That album contained her most precious memories.
Jonathan frowned unconsciously. âAre you willing to give up your life for this photo album? You were lucky yesterday to only sustain some superficial burns on your fingers. What will you do if a larger area of your body gets burned?â
âThis photo album is very important to me! Rosalie exclaimed.
âIs it more important than your hands? Are you really going to destroy your hands just to protect an album?â Jonathan asked in a low voice.
Rosalie took a deep breath and replied, âItâs very important. Even if my hands were destroyed, I would still want to protect it. For her, it was a memory and a symbol of her persistence.
It represented the most beautiful familial affection and also the happiest time she had ever had.
Her answer caused Jonathanâs expression to turn grim. He was so angry at her for not cherishing herself and also at himself for caring more about her health than she did.
She didnât care about her hands, but he cared so much that he was unwilling to see her get hurt.
âWhere is my album?â she anxiously asked again.
Jonathan breathed a long sigh of relief. He stood up, walked to a cabinet not far away, took the burnt album, and handed it to her.
Rosalie breathed a sigh of relief. She carefully opened the album and looked at the photos in it, her eyes turning red again. Some of the photos inside had been burned to a crisp, and some only had the corners left intact. Only about a quarter of the photos were not affected by the fire.
Every time she turned a page, it seemed that she needed more perseverance to bear the pain.
She didnât expect that she couldnât even protect an album.
Rosalie closed the album and murmured. âThank you.â
âWhat?â Jonathan looked at her.
âThank you for taking me to the hospital last night and treating my wounds. My emotions were a little unstable last night,â she said a little awkwardly.
After all, what happened last night flashed in her mind.
Normally, Rosalie wouldnât jump into his arms even if she wanted to cry. But yesterday, she clung to him like he was a piece of driftwood and bawled.
Jonathan bent down and whispered to her. âFrom now on, only I can watch you lose control of yourself.â
This sentence was not an inquiry but a direct conclusion.
Rosalie choked. Jonathan lowered his head and glanced at her gauze-covered fingers again. âIf you have any trouble in the future, you can tell me. Donât just try to solve it by yourself. Besides, your hands are injured now. Iâve helped you to apply for leave from the Environment and Sanitation Administration, so stay at home and rest for a few days.â
She was stunned for a moment and then felt a wave of bitterness in her heart. This place couldnât be considered as her home. Or more specifically, she didnât have a home in this city.
âI always ask for leave. Iâm afraid my supervisor will think Iâm too troublesome and fire me,â Rosalie said. She recalled that she had taken a long time off before the new year.
Road sweepers had limited job positions. If she didnât go to work, it meant that other colleagues would have to help her do her job.
âNo one can fire you, Jonathan said with great certainty. âYou should take good care of your fingers first. Otherwise, do you think that these hands can really move and sweep the ground when you go to work now?â
Rosalie lowered her head and kept silent. It was true that she couldnât do anything with the way her hands were right now.
Jonathan said, âMake sure your hands are healed first. After that, you can do whatever you want.â
Then, as if he had thought of something, he added, âAre you going to meet Lillian tonight? How about another day? Letâs wait until the wounds on your hand are healedâ
If someone familiar with Jonathan heard this, they would be shocked.
The most unreadable man in Strico had never been this worried over the wounds on a womanâs hands before.
If it was someone else, even if they were covered in blood with their life hanging by a thread, he wouldnât even care about them âI must go,â Rosalie replied with certainty. âLillian seems to have some information on the witness from my lawsuit. I want to meet her and find out whatâs going on.â
When she said this, she didnât notice that the expression on Jonathanâs face had changed slightly, and his hand had slightly stiffened.
âInformation on the witness?â
âYeah.â Rosalie nodded and replied, âBut I have to ask Lillian about the details.â
âAre you planning to look for clues yourself?â He asked, raising his hand and touching a strand of hair on her cheek. âI told you that I could help you turn over the case. You donât need to go through such trouble. You might not even get any results.â
âBut you canât really help me find the real perpetrator of the car accident, right? You canât help me find out who is the one who framed me. You just want to use the innocent until proven guiltyâ argument to rid me of my charges. But even if Iâm acquitted, people will still think Iâm the one who did it.â
âDo other peopleâs opinions matter that much?â Jonathan frowned and asked.
Rosalie laughed bitterly. âIf itâs something else, I donât care about what others think. But for this, I have to let myself and others know that Iâm not the killer!â
She didnât want her mother to only be described as a woman who gave birth to a murderer.
Back then, she had thoroughly experienced and understood just how hurtful words could be.
Jonathan gave Rosalie a long look and suddenly smiled. âWell, when you want me to help you turn over the case, you can let me know.â
But there was a trace of darkness in his eyes.
All afternoon, Rosalie carefully handled the album and took out the photos one by one.
She even carefully fished out the photo that was half destroyed.
However, as her hands were wrapped in gauze, it was exceptionally difficult for her to take the photo out.
âLet me do it,â Jonathan said. He used his slender fingers to help her take out the photo. Unlike her clumsy movements just now, he took the out photo dexterously and elegantly, which was pleasing to watch.
But at that moment, Rosalie wasnât in the mood to enjoy this pleasant scene. All her attention was focused on just staring at each photo after it was taken out of the album and observing how burned it was Jonathan took out the photos one by one, which meant that he was looking at the memories of Rosalie and her mother through them.