Chapter 10 A Slap to Jackson's Face

"Mhm," Yvette responded casually, sounding completely uninterested. Jackson was overjoyed, assuming she had agreed to let him work at her company. However, the next moment, her words slapped him in the face. "I don't keep idle people around. With your degree and experience, you're not qualified to work at Jenning Group." His expression froze immediately. "Eve…" I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips as I listened to her cold reprimand. "Who permitted you to address me like that? Do you have no sense of propriety or decency? Is this how your family raised you? "Your looks aren't even half as good as Owen's; you have no brains and no skills—what exactly is he supposed to be afraid of? That you'll go mad?" Jackson's hand holding the phone started trembling, his face mixed with anger and embarrassment. I couldn't hold back a laugh. Then she said, "Owen, I know you're there. Pick up the phone." Hearing this, I quickly grabbed the phone and ended the call. Jackson stared at the phone in disbelief, his face flushed with fury as he trembled. I clicked my tongue twice. Yvette's sharpness was on full display today. Patting his shoulder, I could feel his seething hatred, but I felt nothing but satisfaction. I smiled and said, "Jackson, stop dreaming about being a homewrecker." He glared at me, gritting his teeth. "You must have said something to her. Otherwise, Eve wouldn't have spoken to me like that! You bastard!" He shoved past me in anger, storming off. His forceful push made me stagger a bit, but I just laughed. He had no talent, character, or desire to improve, yet he dreamt of climbing to the top in one leap. He blamed others instead of reflecting on himself when he was rejected. How truly pathetic. I didn't bother with him and went downstairs. Before leaving the house, I went to the study, where my dad was busy at the computer. When he saw me, his face immediately soured, and he kept his head down, focused on his work. Walking up to his desk, I got straight to the point. "Dad, give me some money." His face darkened. Without even looking up, he asked, "What for?" "My in-laws haven't been feeling well lately. I want to buy them some supplements." His scowl froze when he heard that it was for Yvette's parents. Reluctantly, he reached for his phone to transfer me some money but paused mid-action. "Don't you have any money on you? Why are you always coming to me for it?" I met his sharp, calculating gaze and replied calmly, "No, I don't. And I can't buy something cheap for them, can I?" I genuinely didn't have money. Since high school, I had been earning some by drawing illustrations because my dad never gave me a cent. My mom, who didn't have control of the family finances, could only give me a little now and then. My savings were drained after marriage in my efforts to curry favor with Yvette's family. My dad scrutinized me for a long time to determine whether I was lying. Finally, he relented and transferred 20 thousand dollars to me without hesitation. "Make sure you buy the best for your in-laws. Don't be stingy. If it's not enough, come back to me for more." I sneered internally at his eagerness to please others. His behavior disgusted me. In his world, everyone else mattered more than my mom and me. When we were sick, he would complain about the expense and insist we tough it out, claiming money didn't come easy. For over 20 years, he hadn't fulfilled even a shred of his responsibilities as a father, and he was utterly unworthy of the sacrifices my mom had made for this family. However, he was generous regarding matters related to the Jenning family or Aunt Lexi and Jackson. And everyone thought he was such a great person. The irony was suffocating. With the money secured, I left without looking back. I headed to the hospital and used the funds to cover some bills. "How's the patient in bed 13?" I asked. The nurse glanced at the report. "His condition has stabilized. He should wake up soon." I thanked her and found the ward. Inside, a bearded man lay pale and still, with an oxygen mask over his face. It was the disabled man I had seen by the grave earlier. I walked over and adjusted his blanket. Just then, his eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes slowly opened. Confused, he stared at me and asked weakly, "Where am I?" "The hospital. You collapsed from a heart attack. If I hadn't brought you here in time, you'd likely be dead now, Uncle Benjamin." Yes, this was my uncle—my mom's younger brother, about ten years older than me. Looking at his haggard appearance, I couldn't understand what had happened to him. My family had been estranged from my maternal grandparents' side for years. I knew little about their affairs, only that they had disdained my dad for being a poor freeloader. When my family struggled financially, my mom sought their help but was turned away. Later, when she passed away, none of them attended her funeral, so I severed ties with them. I never thought I would see Uncle Benjamin like this—disabled and frail but still showing up at my mom's grave. Yesterday, when he saw me, his eyes had reddened instantly, tears streaming silently as he choked out, "Why didn't you tell us that she's gone?" I was astonished to see his tears streaming uncontrollably down his face, yet he looked as if he had no idea when my mom had passed away. Before I could answer, he had clutched his chest, gasping in pain before collapsing. "Uncle Benjamin!" I was startled at the time and quickly gave him nitroglycerin and got him to the hospital in time. The doctor said it was a close call. In my previous life, Uncle Benjamin had died around this time. I hadn't attended his funeral, but I now realized I had inadvertently saved his life. "Owen." Uncle Benjamin's hoarse voice broke my thoughts. "Why didn't you tell us your mom had passed away?" I pursed my lips before replying, "She passed away over six months ago. I thought Dad would have told you, so I didn't reach out myself." At first, I thought they were just holding a grudge against my family, unwilling to attend my mom's funeral. But to my surprise, they had no idea at all. He tightly shut his eyes, his expression growing more painful. It seemed like he couldn't accept my mom's death. In my shallow memories, Uncle Benjamin was a kind person. When I was young, he always took me to play when we visited my grandfather's house. He would bring me along when hanging out with his friends and buy me all kinds of treats. Back then, he was energetic, always scoring the most points when playing basketball with his friends. But as I grew older, we gradually drifted apart, and with some misunderstandings, we ended up like strangers. "Uncle Benjamin, did something happen at Grandpa's house? How did you end up like this? What happened to your leg?"