Chapter 39: Natalie’s Home

The black SUV came to a stop in front of the residential building gate in the High Avenue area. The residences here weren’t overly expensive, but they weren’t cheap either.

Natalie had purchased a home for herself a few months ago, having earned enough as a director at Browns. However, she had never had the chance to move in, not wanting to upset her grandfather, who was thrilled to have her back and preferred her to stay with him.

The security guard allowed the car to enter the premises. As soon as Natalie stepped out, a truck arrived, filled with the items she had already ordered to furnish her new home. Spending that boring time in the hospital while selecting things for her home paid off.

"John, I might need your help today," Natalie said, now becoming accustomed to John’s presence. Given her still paining ankle, having him help was not a bad idea when anyways he was going to be around to keep watch on her.

"Of course, Miss Natalie. Just let me know what you need," John replied.

"That’s all the stuff I ordered for my home. You’ll need to help me guide them."

He nodded, and Natalie began instructing the workers while she headed upstairs to her apartment via the elevator.

The moment she entered her new home, she sighed, ’

It wasn’t a large apartment, but it had a cozy layout—a living room, two bedrooms, a kitchen, a deck, and some additional useful space.

Within an hour, the once-empty apartment was transformed into a lively, cozy space, thanks to the workers’ efforts in cleaning and arranging the furniture. The essentials were all in place, giving the home a welcoming feel.

After the workers left, Natalie slumped onto the sofa, exhausted. "Thank you so much, John. I should treat you to a meal," she offered.

"There’s no need, Miss Natalie. I’m here to help and protect you," John responded politely.

"No need to be so humble with me, John. Save that for your arrogant boss, Justin Harper," she said with a hint of sarcasm.

John remained silent, knowing better than to engage. No one ever dared to badmouth his boss, but this woman seemed to be an exception. She never missed a chance to curse Justin, and surprisingly, Justin didn’t seem to mind.

Suddenly, John received a notification on his phone. Without a word, he hurried over to the TV and turned it on, not bothering to ask for Natalie’s permission.

"What are you so eager to watch on TV?" Natalie asked, watching John as he flipped through the channels. "Don’t tell me your boss is finally doing a face reveal so the whole world can see that the mysteriously infamous Justin Harper is nothing special—just an arrogant, annoyingly self-centered, and narcissistic son of a wealthy family."

John couldn’t fathom how his boss had managed to offend this woman so deeply when he clearly seemed to care about her. He still remembered the chilling coldness that emanated from Justin when he informed him that Natalie had been attacked, even over the phone.

John finally found the channel where Briena was talking to the reporters. Natalie raised an eyebrow. "These reporters are fast, and my sister can’t wait to dig her own grave."

She grabbed two packets of wafers from the snack basket temporarily placed on the center table and tossed one to John. "Have a seat. Let’s enjoy my sister’s latest acting performance."

John caught the packet and pulled up a chair from the dining table. He sat down but didn’t open the wafer pack.

Natalie frowned at him. "Eating a snack isn’t going to make one of your abs disappear." Then she muttered under her breath, "Fit people and their tantrums. Such disrespect toward a tasty snack."

John awkwardly cleared his throat, unsure whether to feel flattered that she called him fit or offended by the word ’tantrum’. He decided to open the pack anyway and indulge in a cheat day.

"Ms. Briena, when we spoke to your sister, she told us to ask you why she slapped you," a reporter’s voice came from the TV.

"Yes, I saw that," Briena responded smoothly. "Well, it’s nothing more than a typical fight between sisters that ended up being recorded by someone, infringing on our privacy. We will make sure to find the person responsible and take legal action. As for the incident, it was just a misunderstanding on my sister’s part. But as her younger sister, I choose to forgive her, as I always do."

"Ms. Briena, are you saying such incidents often happen to you? Does your sister always resort to hurting you?" a reporter pressed further.

At this, Briena feigned being caught off guard, as if she hadn’t intended to say too much. "I... didn’t mean it that way. My sister is usually good to me," she replied, her tone hesitant.

Her response was perfectly calculated, subtly suggesting what she wanted the reporters to believe. A murmur spread through the crowd, with whispers suggesting that Natalie might be abusive towards her younger sister.

"Eight out of ten," Natalie commented dryly. "What do you think, John?"

"Maybe seven," he replied, trying to be objective.

"By giving her a seven, you’re insulting her acting skills. Look at how easily she’s swayed the reporters. She deserves at least an eight."

"Ms. Briena, please tell us why your sister slapped you," another reporter asked.

Briena inhaled deeply, her expression turning somber. "Our grandfather was admitted to the hospital. He learned about what happened during my sister’s wedding and went into shock. His heart is already fragile. We both care deeply for our grandpa, but she took his condition to heart and couldn’t cope with it. I suppose she needed to vent, and..."

"You mean slapping you for no reason was her way of venting? When it seems like it’s her fault Mr. Ford went into shock, given that she’s the one who caused the scandal in the first place?" another reporter interjected.

In response, Briena remained silent, her demeanor portraying her as the victim.

"What is Mr. Ford’s reaction now to Ms. Natalie’s wedding?" someone else asked.

Briena forced a smile. "Everything is fine now. My grandpa is happy and doing well after meeting Natalie’s husband. He offered them his blessings."

Whispers rippled through the group of reporters. One of them asked, "But didn’t she claim something like she doesn’t even know her husband?"

"I’m not sure why she said that, but as long as she’s happy, we don’t mind whatever happened before." Briena sounded genuinely happy for her sister.

Natalie crushed the wafer in her fingers. "Nice attempt at diverting everyone’s attention from the slapping incident to my ’mysterious husband’ while simultaneously making me look guilty for slapping her."

"Then, aren’t you going to clear your name, Ms. Natalie?" John asked.

"Do you think I am a saint?" Natalie replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I gave her one chance to handle this smartly, and clean up the mess she has created, without forcing me to expose her true colors, but she didn’t take it."

She picked up her cellphone and started typing, her focus sharp. "Also, the efforts you have put into following me and recording everything about me, I can’t let them be wasted."

John awkwardly cleared his throat, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I was just doing my job."

"That’s why you’re still alive," she quipped, finishing her typing. "Done." Then she murmured under her breath, "Sorry, Grandpa, but that granddaughter of yours deserves to go to hell."