Chapter 83 The Handwritten Note Returns to Its Original Owner
Chapter 83 The Handwritten Note Returns to Its Original Owner
Either way, she'd still made some money.
Leon happily opened his banking app and checked his balance. To his surprise, not only had the money Louis transferred not shown up, but his account had been frozen too, flagged for suspected fraud.
"Fuck!"
Leon furiously threw his phone onto the bed.
The only person who could pull that off was Louis. He couldn't think of anyone else.
"Just you wait."
Leon's eyes turned vicious as he dumped the blame on Elisa.
After saying goodbye to Stephen, Elisa walked down the street after she'd already cleaned up the scrape on her hand.
She was about to hail a cab home when her phone vibrated in her bag, the screen flashing "Louis."
Elisa answered and held the phone to her ear.
"No bodyguard, and you still got into it with Leon on the street?" Louis's voice came through the receiver, low and edged with barely contained anger.
"He didn't get the better of me," Elisa said as she walked, before adding, "How did you find out so fast? Did Leon contact you?"
She heard the flick of a lighter through the phone.
"Yes." Louis exhaled smoke. "He sent me a text."
Elisa lifted her hand to flag down a car. She got in and closed the door. "You gave him money?"
"I did."
"Are you crazy?" Elisa's voice rose. "Leon is extremely greedy. Gamblers don't end well."
A very low chuckle came through the receiver.
"Worried about my money?" Louis's tone shifted from taut to relaxed.
"I'm worried you'll get dragged into trouble," Elisa said reproachfully.
"Are you with Stephen?"
Louis asked.
"No, he already left."
Elisa knew Leon must have said something to Louis. To keep him from overthinking, she explained, "He just happened to pass by and helped me out."
Louis fell silent.
"Don't overthink it. You're the only one I want."
Elisa added, as if worried Louis wouldn't believe her.
The other end of the line went quiet for a moment.
"Elisa."
Louis stubbed out his cigarette, his voice dropping lower, rougher.
"What is it?"
"I miss you."
No preamble, just direct and intense.
Elisa's heart skipped a beat.
Why did he always say sweet things at times like this?
"I'll pick you up tonight. What do you want to eat?"
Knowing Elisa's personality, Louis simply changed the subject.
"Something light," Elisa answered hastily. "I need to go back to the translation center. Gotta go."
She quickly pressed end call, tossed her phone back in her bag, and let out a long breath.
Forty minutes later, Elisa stood at the entrance of the translation center.
Early-autumn sunlight filtered through the branches of a century-old ginkgo tree, casting dappled shadows over the stone slabs. By the stone table, a coffee pot on the stove sent up a thin thread of white steam.
In the courtyard, Leandro sat on the stone bench to the left.
And across from him sat Stephen, who had just helped her beat someone up in the shopping district half an hour ago.
Hearing the door open, he turned his head. His gaze lingered for a second on the medical tape on Elisa's wrist before calmly sliding away.
"You're here." Leandro waved her over.
Elisa walked up and glanced at Stephen. "Mr. Shaw is here too."
"Oceanview Group has added two research projects in Marigoldia languages." Leandro pointed to a thick stack of documents on the table. "Stephen personally delivered the materials and stopped by for coffee. Have a seat."
Elisa sat down on the stone bench to the side.
Leandro bent down and pulled out an old camphorwood box from under the stone table. The surface was unvarnished, the grain darkened with age, giving off the quiet weight of time.
"I called you here today mainly for this." Leandro pushed the box in front of Elisa.
"Open it."
Elisa reached out and unlatched the brass clasp.
Inside, the box was lined with red velvet. In the center lay a black leather journal. The edges were badly worn, and in the lower right corner of the cover, the name "Helen" was embroidered in gold thread in neat letters.
Elisa's heart jumped. She carefully lifted the journal out.
"This is your grandmother Helen's journal that she left at Luminary College." Leandro looked at the black volume, his gaze going distant. "It contains all her notes and insights from deciphering the 'Babylonian Clay Tablet Fragments.'"
Elisa opened the first page.
The paper had yellowed and turned brittle, packed with notes in Zephyria, ancient Valeria, and other languages scattered throughout.
The handwriting was elegant, but there was a sharpness in the turns, and the margins were filled with root-decomposition models of her own creation.
"Back then, your grandmother used this decomposition model to leave an entire team of foreign experts—more than a dozen of them—speechless." Leandro picked up his cup, pride plain in his voice. "In that era, Helen was a towering figure in the local interpreting world."
Elisa turned the pages one by one.
It felt like a blood tie reaching across time. She could almost see a slender, straight-backed woman at a desk piled with documents, pen held like a blade, holding the line for an entire profession.
"Elisa, the journal is back where it belongs. The path your grandmother didn't finish, you must finish for her."
Elisa closed the journal. Her fingers traced the gold-embroidered "Helen," and she nodded solemnly.
"Mr. McCall, rest assured, I won't disgrace my grandmother's name."
"This journal was lost overseas for many years." Leandro looked at Stephen and continued, "When the Roberts family fell into turmoil, the materials were sold in bulk to a corporation. After changing hands several times, it ended up with an extremely stubborn private collector. To get it back, Stephen spent a fortune and called in three favors."
Elisa froze. She looked up at Stephen.
Early-autumn sunlight filtered through the ginkgo leaves, falling on Stephen's sharp brow bone.
He didn't take credit; his expression was calm.
"It can only reach its full value in your hands."
"Regardless, I won't forget this. From now on, I'll give everything I've got to Oceanview Group's projects." Elisa thanked him earnestly.
Leandro seized the opportunity. "Speaking of which, those two Marigoldia language projects from Oceanview Group are extremely difficult. Elisa, you'll work directly with Stephen from now on. This is a chance to put the decomposition model back on the global stage."
"Alright." Elisa didn't refuse.
This was business, but more importantly, it was legacy.
Leandro set down his teacup, his gaze moving between Stephen and Elisa.
He was the best judge of people, and from the moment Stephen entered, his gaze never truly left Elisa.
"Stephen, you're not getting any younger either. How are you thinking about marriage?" He probed half-jokingly. "Want me to set you up with someone?"