After a moment of silence, Donald got frustrated and blamed Jessie, "Why don't you have self-esteem?"

Jessie put her hand to her cheek and looked at him in disbelief. And then she raised her voice, "You are right. I don't have self-esteem because nobody taught me to have it."

Pain and regret flashed over Donald's eyes. When he was young, he put all his energy into his career.

He took an appointment in another city. His wife was seriously ill, and he only went back when he got a notice from the hospital that his wife was in critical condition.

When he got to the hospital, his wife had already closed her eyes forever. And his five-year-old daughter was dumbfounded, sitting by her side.

Donald was immersed in this sorrowful memory when his daughter fell on his chair, with her hands covering her face and tears coming through her fingers.

"Dad, I have never asked you to do anything for me since I was a kid. Could you please help me with this once? Help get him out of trouble?"

"Tristan Fox has made serious mistakes."

"But he has done so many good things. Chasin has contributed so much to the city…"

"There are additional issues."

"Things in this world do not happen independently. Most things are related and intertwined. Haven't you make any mistakes in your life? Can you say that you have an absolutely clear conscience?"

The words crashed Donald's ears as if a hammer was beating on his heart.

The memories that he had packed and sealed away in the deepest parts of his heart now surged to the surface.

Donald closed his eyes in pain.

"I knew you put your integrity first in your career. And you have been cautious and conscientious all your life. And you sacrificed everything, including your family. If you feel that you owe mom and me, you will help me this time."

"And from now on, I will follow your choice. Even if you don't want to see me again, I don't blame you."

Donald looked at his daughter in disbelief. "You…" he said heartbreakingly, "You are incurable."

Jessie laughed with sorrow. She had allowed herself to indulge in this hopeless love. And when she realized it, she was too deep in it to escape. She really was incurable.

After parting with her father sullenly, Jessie went for another appointment.

In a quiet booth of a fancy restaurant, Jessie ate just half of the food on her plate. Owen took out a small velvet box and pushed it to Jessie on the table, his eyes shining with delight.

"Jessica, marry me."

Jessie was tongue-tied.

After a moment, she said, "I am not ready yet."

Owen's face was gentle. "Sure. I will give you time to think about it. Twenty-four hours or 72?"

"No," Jessie was careful choosing the words, "It is not the right time to think about this."

"Oh? Then when would be the appropriate time to start thinking about it?"

Jessie hardened her heart and looked at him, "Owen, it is not the time for us to get married. If you don't want to wait, then that is it."

And then she picked up her purse and left.

After Jessie got back to her apartment, she was so exhausted both physically and mentally that she went to the bathroom and soon dozed off in the bathtub.

When she woke up, her hands and feet were wrinkled and pale from soaking for such a long time.

Jessie put a robe on, walked out, and saw a gloomy person sitting on the recliner beside her bed.

She frowned, "Why did you came here?"

Owen raised the hospital report, "What is this?"

Jessie was annoyed, "You searched my purse?"

"I saw you acting strangely and was worried. Just now, your phone rang ceaselessly. I was afraid of waking you."

Owen sneered, "Whose, is it? Whose child is it?"

Jessie felt cold in her heart.

"You rejected me because of this?"

Owen raised his eyebrows, "Or because of that, Tristan? You heard that he was being investigated, going to be cracked down on, and your heart suddenly softened for him?"

And suddenly evil flashed over his eyes, "Or, the child is his?"

His pale face turned red, and behind his glasses, there was a flame of rage, and perhaps humiliation too.

Jessie paused a little and sneered, "You are right. The child is not yours. As for whose it is, it has nothing to do with you."

Owen stood up immediately as if he wanted to beat her, but he nodded afterward and said, "I know. I picked this time to propose intentionally. I wanted to see if you still have him in your heart. It is just as I thought…"

Owen's eyes reddened, "What do you think the past few months were? Jessie, who the hell do you think I am?"

Jessie suppressed brimming tears and said in a cold tone, "You are what you think you are."

"Before you leave, don't forget to leave the key."

Donald Harderson, who had just had a fight with his daughter, was sad. He looked at the empty house and thought of the happy and cozy family he once had. However, it had been gone for a long time, and the memories were something he could not usually recall.

He sighed and called his driver to get the car ready. He wanted to go to the office.

For years, Donald had put all his time and energy into his job. It was not just out of his conscientiousness; it was partly because he wanted to escape from the daily reality he had to face.

Donald walked to the door of his office with a heavy heart, taking the key out of his pocket.

The door was unlocked.

Donald walked in and saw the lamp on his desk was on. A person sat there. His back looked familiar and seemed to come straight from his memories of a past life.

The man turned around. He was holding a black and white photo in his hand. Donald's heart seized.

The man said without hurry, "I didn't see this picture in your house last time. You put it here."

He waved the photo to him. The four young men in army uniforms on the photo flashed from his face.

He said with a smile, "Uncle Donald. Long time no see."

Donald's voice was trembling, "Who are you?"

"I am Charley Foster."

***

It was a story from decades ago.

Four young men had been dismissed from the army.

They came from the same town and fought wars together. They became brothers over the years.

After they returned and got back to LA, they found jobs so they could start over. They had been through life and death; they were afraid of nothing.

So soon after they took new jobs, they all excelled in their new careers.

The youngest among them, David Wagner, was a smart guy and good at doing business. He started his business and soon expanded it to a considerable scale after his first success. While he was ambitious to have a bigger deal, his mistakes in decision-making led him to incur huge debts.

LA Los Angeles was undergoing infrastructure construction rebuilding at that time.

One of the city funds was kept in the bank Simon Foster worked at. Simon had been the vice president of that branch.

David desperately had his eyes on that fund. He dragged his other brothers to help him persuade Simon. He said he would return the fund before the city construction project was initiated. Nobody would know about this. However, Simon, who was honest and upright, refused David indignantly.

A few days later, Simon got a phone call from David's wife, who was crying on the phone.

He hurried to the site. David was standing on the roof of a skyscr.a.p.er. He looked desperate and determined. His wife, with two young kids, was crying downstairs. His old mother arrived at the scene and fainted when she saw her son's figure on the top of the building.

They finally got David off the roof after a long round of persuasion. And Simon was forced to risk helping him.

David promised him that he only needed two to three months and he could get through the mire. And the city construction project was supposed to initiate in half a year.

However, things didn't work out as planned. One month later, they got the news that the construction was to be initiated immediately. The embezzlement was discovered, and L.A.PD took Simon Foster away.

"My father didn't tell the truth in order to protect his brother. He just asked somebody to send a message to David Wagner to return the money as soon as possible. Some guys in L.A.PD knew my father and wanted to help him. But David Wagner disappeared from this world. He tried to reach Harry Jackson, but he didn't show, with the excuse that he was traveling on business. He took three hundred thousand dollars from that fund for his daughter's medical treatment."

"My mother and I got the news and came to LA. Before we had a chance to see my father, we heard the rumors that my father had an affair with a lady in the bank and that lady had a parent who needed cash for surgery. At the prison, my mother asked my father about it, and they had a huge fight."

"My father was set up by his brothers and misunderstood by his wife. He had nowhere to tell the truth."

"A few months later, he was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. Before he was transferred, he hanged himself with his belt."

The story stopped.

And the teller's expression was cold, but his eyes flickered with sorrow.

Donald Harderson stood still by the door, like a pillar.

Tristan sneered, "I don't care who the prime culprit or the accomplice is, David Wagner or Harry Jackson, or if they plotted this together. It is all the same to me. Though you, Uncle Donald, didn't get involved and didn't take the money, you knew the whole story."

Donald's face was totally white.

Tristan had some puzzlement in his eyes, "Why? Why couldn't you stand up and say something?"

"Since I was thirteen, once in a while, I would close my eyes and picture my father's last days. He was kind and generous to others all his life. He never did anyone harm. He had three brothers to whom he would reach out to help whenever they had any trouble, and sometimes even when it went against his principles. Where were his brothers when he was in dire straits?"

Tristan looked to Donald and said in a very low voice, "And where were you then, Uncle Donald?"

Donald had shown deep regret on his face.

"I did hesitate, and later I made up my mind to stand up for him, but it was too late. I didn't expect that he would…"

"Well, I didn't expect that either. I didn't know he would lose hope."

Tristan said, "And I could not understand why he used the belt. After he was taken to prison, he should have been changed to prison uniforms. All his belongings should have been taken away and kept. Why was the belt with him?"

Donald's eyes shrank, "Do you mean…"

Tristan looked to him and the corners of his mouth lifted, "You forgot Harry Foster was in charge of the police in that section. It was not difficult for him to buy off one or two of the prison guards."

Donald was shocked. This was murder.

"There is more to it than that. After I returned from abroad, I went to check with some of my father's colleagues at the bank. They told me that the rumors about my father were fabricated on purpose.

"My mother was young and short-tempered. She was s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to that kind of thing. And her misunderstanding became the last straw that broke my father."

"After my father died, I found his diary when we were packing his things. The diary said things about you and the fund. My father sent a letter to the relevant departments. As we were waiting for the reply, something happened."

Tristan looked to the air as if his mind had returned back to the past.

"My mother's best friend knew that we had gone through a tragedy and came to visit us with her son. The boy was two years younger than I was. I taught him to play chess. One afternoon, my mother got a call for some emergency at work. She went out to handle it. It was getting dark, and she had not yet come back. I got worried and went out to find her. I met her on the way. It turned out that she went to the market to buy some groceries on the way back and took some extra time. We went back home together. As we returned to our house, we found it was on fire…"

Tristan choked, and he raised his hand to his mouth. His eyes shone with tears.

He paused a little and continued, "We rushed in for her friend and the boy, but they had already…"

He could never forget that scene. The mother and son, who were talking and laughing hours ago, were quickly in a horrible state. He was scared to death, but he still reached his hand for the boy and tried to wake him up. And then he heard his mother scream. A broken beam fell on him…