Chapter 54 Chin Up
Elizabeth heard Yosef call her name. She swiped her card at the register, took the receipt, and walked over.
"Elizabeth, my cousin wants to buy clothes for Mr. Robinson. Could you help her choose?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Yosef realized how foolish he sounded.
"Wait… Elizabeth might not be able to help you. They've barely met."
The fact that Timothy knew Elizabeth was never public knowledge, and Yosef had no idea.
Emma shot him a look and smiled. "Yosef, relax. Miss Penrose knows Mr. Robinson. I really need your help, Miss Penrose—I have no idea which size to pick."
Elizabeth nodded. She didn't choose the color or style, only picked out one size.
"Miss Sutter can use this as a reference."
"Thanks."
"Not at all. I'll be on my way."
Yosef stayed behind to accompany Emma with her shopping, while Elizabeth drove home. The clothes from the mall would be sent to Yosef's address.
Driving, Elizabeth's thoughts drifted to Timothy.
She had measured his waist before—with her hands. They'd been close enough for her to know exactly what fit him.
Her lips pressed together, she turned on the DJ playlist. A sultry beat filled the car, and as she hummed along, her racing heartbeat began to settle.
The window rolled down. A pack of heavy motorcycles roared past.
She eased closer to them. "Hey, where are you guys headed?"
One of the men riding pillion whistled when he saw her. "Rocky Hill."
Rocky Hill was famous for its racetrack.
On impulse, Elizabeth followed the bikes all the way there.
When they arrived, the riders stopped. She stepped out of her car. There was no major event tonight—just a few young enthusiasts racing for fun.
Elizabeth asked to borrow a bike.
"Ma'am, maybe you should ride with me instead? Rocky Hill's full of tight curves—it's not exactly safe," said a young man named Colt, his voice shy.
"Don't worry. I can handle it." She arched a brow. "Let me change first."
She kept a spare outfit in her car. Riding in a skirt wasn't an option.
Colt handed over his black heavy bike, and the boys around them started cheering. They were at that age where everything was a dare.
Elizabeth slipped into a T-shirt and shorts, her long legs catching the light as she swung onto the bike and pulled on a helmet—quick, precise, no hesitation.
Not far away, in a parked car, a man's gaze locked on those smooth, toned legs astride the bike. His eyes darkened.
He loosened his shirt collar, leaning back.
Engines roared. The bikes shot forward.
Elizabeth twisted the throttle, arrowing down the track. Wind tore past her, the scenery blurring into streaks.
A black bike surged up from behind, overtaking her.
The man gave a thumbs-up… then turned it down. A deliberate insult.
His hand was all long fingers and sharp knuckles—cocky to the core.
"Fuck!" Elizabeth spat. Who the hell was taunting her?
She pushed harder, chasing the black bike. They traded positions, curve after curve.
At one bend, Elizabeth cut ahead, leaning low into the turn.
The man fought back.
When he passed her again and gave that same thumbs-down, she cursed under her breath, jaw tight. "Fuck!"
The man ahead, hidden behind his helmet, let his lips curl into a slow smirk. His brows lifted as he gunned the throttle.
At the finish line, Elizabeth braked hard, yanked off her helmet, scanning for the man who'd mocked her. He was nowhere in sight.
She returned the helmet and bike to Colt. "Thanks."
"Ma'am, can we add each other on social media?"
Elizabeth only smiled, slid into her car, waved, and drove off.
Timothy handed his helmet to Joe, lit a cigarette, his expression lazy. Joe glanced at Timothy's arm, exasperated—his injury hadn't healed, and yet he'd been riding.
They'd only run into Elizabeth's car on the way, following her to Rocky Hill. He hadn't expected her to actually race. Most women avoided heavy bikes; the weight made them tough to handle.
From his car, Timothy lifted his gaze to watch Elizabeth get in hers. He took the cigarette from his lips, holding it between his fingers.
"Mr. Robinson, Miss Sutter's looking for you," Joe said, remembering the call he'd just taken.
Emma had bought the clothes and couldn't wait to bring them to Timothy.
Elizabeth arrived home.
Mabel wasn't back yet. Checking her phone, Elizabeth saw Mabel's night was packed with events.
She grabbed her pajamas and headed for the shower.
Just as she stepped out, her phone rang. The caller ID read Calista.
The last time Calista had spoken to her, it had been to threaten disownment after Elizabeth hit Natalia. Even after Elizabeth's accident, Natalia hadn't called once.
Still feigning amnesia, Elizabeth sat on the sofa and answered. "Who's this?"
"Someone's been asking about your time in the orphanage," Calista said bluntly. "Who did you provoke?"
It wasn't concern for Elizabeth—it was fear of trouble for the Howard family.
"And you are?" Elizabeth's smile was cool. "Orphanage? What's there to know? I've forgotten."
Calista faltered, remembering Natalia's claim that Elizabeth had lost her memory.
She rattled off a few warnings before ending the call. "If you don't remember me, fine. You have nothing to do with the Howard family anymore. Handle your own mess."
After Elizabeth's accident, the Howard family had been dragged into police questioning—humiliating.
Elizabeth hung up, tapping her phone case with one finger.
That night, her sleep was restless. In her half-dream, she kept hearing Quinton's urgent voice.
"Elizabeth, run!"
Behind her came Elijah's hunting laugh.
At dawn, she woke with a dull ache in her head. She got up, found a painkiller, and swallowed it with water. Her lips were pale.
Still, she went to the kitchen and made oatmeal.
Tom answered Elizabeth's call, glancing at Sherry in the office. Sherry had come in with Armando that morning.
Tom stepped into the break room, lowering his voice. "Elizabeth, better take the oatmeal back."
"Sorry to trouble you."
She ended the call, glanced at the Johnson Group building, and drove to TechStrong.
Yosef stepped out of the elevator, spotting a thermos on Elizabeth's desk. "What's for lunch?"
"Oatmeal. Good for the stomach."
He eyed it. "Perfect. I need that."
Elizabeth looked up, brow arched. "If you don't mind, take it. It was meant for Armando."
Yosef's brows drew together. "You're still not giving up?"
"Why should I?" She'd picked up the tactic from Sherry.
Yosef studied her for a moment, then reached out and tilted her chin up.
Elizabeth's brow twitched. "What are you doing?"