My Gorgeous Wife is an Ex-Convict!

Chapter 9

After coming out of the hospital, Terrence asked, “Mr. Reed, do you want to go back to the mansion, or…?”

“Back to the Westside,” Jason said absently.

The Westside was where Grace lived. Terrence didn’t know how long his own superior was planning to stay in that small rental apartment. With that damaged woman.

Then a thought occurred to him… maybe Jason wasn’t as calm as he pretended to be. Maybe he indeed intended to seek his revenge and his time spent with this Grace woman was only in preparation for …something.

On the way to the Westside, at a traffic light intersection, Terrence suddenly noticed something. “Uh, Mr. Reed, Miss Cummins is on the side of the road.”

Jason turned his head and saw a slender figure sweeping the garbage with a broom at the side of the road.

She was wearing a fluorescent work suit with a simple ponytail. Because of the cold weather, every breath she exhaled was accompanied by white vapor.

At this moment, an electric bike sped by, trying to catch the green light. It bumped into Grace’s leg and made her fall to the ground.

However, the person riding the electric bike didn’t stop but simply rode away.

“Mr. Reed, do you want to find out who the owner of this electric bike is and make him take responsibility?” Considering his actions when Grace had gotten drunk and been beaten up, Terence assumed Jason would stand up for her again.

Jason’s gaze fixed on the woman who had fallen to the ground outside the car window.

His grandfather’s voice rang out again in his mind: “Remember what you have said today. Do not act like him…”

He would never care about a woman like his father did. It was just a game, and right now he was not Jason Reed, but only some random stranger, so why would he care about a sanitation worker named Grace?

it,” he said

Terrence was stunned.

light turned green, and the car continued to

“Grace, are you alright? Do you want to go

checked her injury. There was no bleeding. There were only some heavy swellings where her ankle had been scratched. “No need. It’s just a bruise.

go and get checked out,” Claire said, and then she swore at the driver who had done

thanked her friend and then resumed her

returned home. As soon as she

The man

she wanted was just a person who would wait for her, even

was having someone that cared about her in it that made this house

me a few minutes to wash up and then I’ll prepare our

her limp across the room to the

with your foot?” he asked, even

scratch. I’ll massage it with safflower oil,” she said lightly, but her face would change slightly with every few steps she took, and her forehead

lips. “Then it would be better to clean it up now.” As he said this, he stretched out his arm and caught her from moving past. Then, he pulled up the

sucked in an unsteady

even though it was still

her ankle

would still be indifferent. But, for some reason, when

insisted. “Some safflower oil will mend

his hand, but his fingers firmly held onto her, making

of

the safflower oil?” he

on the bedside table,” she

he had suddenly picked her up, bridal style. Carrying her, he walked to the bed, put her down, and took out the

sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her injured right foot onto his lap. Then, he took off her shoes and socks and pressed his finger against the lump. It was a terrible bruise. Hot to the touch and incredibly swollen. He was no doctor,