Chapter 167 She Can't Afford to Try
On hearing the title 'Cox Professor,' Cynthia's expression momentarily chilled. Yet, her eyes revealed little as she deftly shifted the conversation. "Carry the pepper spray with you. If you encounter any criminals again, don't hesitate to use it directly. But I can't give you a baton. It doesn't comply with internal regulations. You know, many things in the country are very strict, with many old-fashioned and strange rules."
"I know; that's enough." Jessica weighed the two cans in her hand and then glanced at the time. "What time are you going to the police station today? Do you have time to stay for a bite before you leave?"
"I really can't tell you're from the entertainment industry. You're just like a sexy little chef." Cynthia teased her with a smile. Just as she was about to decline eating, her eyes suddenly glanced downward, then looked back at Jessica, implying. "Are there other people at home?"
"No." Jessica clearly remembered that she had just put away Gabriel's shoes, coat, and the clothes Wayne had sent.
Cynthia glanced at Jessica's expression, raising an eyebrow. "A man?"
Cynthia didn't even look at Jessica's face for too long; she just glanced at her and walked straight into the room.
As she passed by the closed bedroom doors, Cynthia glanced at Jessica until she stopped in front of the main bedroom door. Jessica remained calm, but Cynthia paused in front of the door, pointing inside the main bedroom and raising an eyebrow at Jessica.
Truly an elite detective emerged from the FBI's Criminal Psychology Department.
Jessica smiled, raised her hand in a fist gesture, and mouthed to her, "Impressive."
Cynthia was about to go on duty and didn't have time to listen to her explanation, knock on the door, or do anything else. After a moment of looking at Jessica, she simply left.
Jessica hurried to see her off. "Not staying for a meal?"
"I won't eat. Time is running out."
"You're busier now than you were in Country M."
"It's okay, it's two different kinds of busy. One is mentally and physically exhausting, with either the body or soul always on the move. The other is being punctual at work, not being late or slacking off."
As they reached the elevator, Jessica's eyes inadvertently glanced toward the wall next to the elevator door.
While waiting for the elevator, Cynthia said, "You really like that man."
Jessica paused. "No, he happened to be at my house, just a coincidence."
"You're not the type to easily let anyone get close, especially in such a private place like home. Allowing him to enter so freely, even resting in your main bedroom, shows your trust in him. And all your defenses over the years seem to have failed when it comes to him."
As Cynthia spoke, she calmly looked at Jessica, who seemed momentarily lost in thought. "Is it because your social status doesn't match?"
Jessica tried to explain, wanting to say that it was because Gabriel had lived in her house for a while before, and they had been living under the same roof for a long time, so she didn't avoid it too much.
Moreover, where she lived now was all Gabriel's.
She couldn't just ruin Gabriel's stomach like this and then cold-heartedly let him sleep in the guest room.
But upon careful consideration, these reasons seemed somewhat far-fetched.
Especially in the face of Cynthia, with her innate sharp intuition and her very professional psychology, even the most difficult-to-deal-with criminals adept at disguises in Country M couldn't escape her scrutiny, let alone Jessica, who, although she thought her acting skills were decent, was not very good at lying.
Jessica didn't give a direct answer; she just looked at the elevator about to reach the 31st floor and said, "My previous life was almost ruined under the Jenner family's roof, and in the years since I've barely survived. You also know what I've been investigating these years: I don't have the time or energy to consider anything beyond just staying alive. More importantly, I'm not a single, carefree young girl. I have Danielle, and for all these years, I don't even know who the father of my child is."
Cynthia inquired, "Would he mind?"
Jessica replied, "I mind."
The elevator door opened, and Cynthia couldn't linger, so she stepped into it. Before the door closed, she looked deeply at Jessica and said, "Won't you give it a try?"
"I won't try. I can't afford it."
Jessica really couldn't afford it.
Gabriel sitting on her bed, occasionally looking at data files and emails on the computer, even though he was just in this bedroom, he exuded a calm aura as if this was his commanding business battlefield, composed and collected.
Gabriel's status didn't match hers at all. She couldn't afford to try.
Especially since she had no experience in love and encountered such a tough character from the start, what if one day Michael suddenly threw down millions or even billions in front of her, forcing her to leave his grandson?
She was afraid she would unhesitatingly take the money and leave.
Just the thought of facing such a test that eroded her humanity too much in the future, or the thought that one day Michael would throw money in front of her, made Jessica struggle at this moment.
How could she make it look like she wasn't too practical when taking the money and leaving?
How could she portray this scene as innocent and helpless, as if I'm going with the money, but I'm actually being forced?
Wow, this question was really too difficult. It would be better if nothing had happened from the beginning.
Gabriel, lying on the bed, suddenly shifted his gaze from the computer screen and looked at Jessica, who had been staring at him for a long time.
Even if he was a master strategist, he couldn't figure out that in Jessica's mind at this moment; she had already memorized a ruthless CEO romance novel.
He couldn't see the scene playing out in her mind where she sat on a pile of money, raising a glass of expensive wine to clink with Danielle's milk, both Jessica and Danielle crying uncontrollably as they drank.
A pleasant notification sound filled the air, and Gabriel shut down the computer.
Jessica snapped back to reality, quickly retracting the gaze she had just fixed on Gabriel.
Remembering her purpose for returning to the master bedroom, she hurriedly picked up the thermometer and approached him. "Let me take your temperature again," she said.
Gabriel, expressionless, said, "I'm not running a fever."
"Oh, so you're not feverish because you say so? Since when did you become a doctor?"
Jessica placed the thermometer on his forehead and looked at it: 98.24 degrees Fahrenheit.
He really wasn't running a fever?
She looked back at Gabriel in an instant, her eyes clearly asking if, since he wasn't running a fever and wasn't feeling unwell, he could leave now.
Gabriel seemed to ignore her overly eager gaze, leaned back against the headboard, and placed his hand on his stomach through the blanket. "Stomachache."
Jessica was speechless.
