Chapter 287

“It’s all right. I’ll find a job myself,” she refused.

His eyes darkened, and his fingers tightened slightly on hers. “You don’t like me helping you find a job, Sis?”

Her body stiffened. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension.

“I want to find a job myself.” She took a deep breath, her almond-shaped eyes meeting his dark gaze.

It would have been easier if he found her a job—one that would be easier and pay better. But how long would that last? When he tired of the game and dismissed her, she would have nothing.

Or perhaps, beyond the practical concerns, her refusal was an attempt to preserve her dwindling self-respect. Yes, the hardships of life and the cruelty of reality had eroded her pride. Once, kneeling to others had been unimaginable; in prison, she had done so repeatedly, eaten food dropped on the ground, and endured the indignity of being trampled.

Why bother with self-respect when mere survival was a struggle? Her once-strong pride was shattered. She wanted to cling to what little remained.

The two stared at each other. Even the servant who arrived with medicine and gauze felt the suffocating atmosphere. With trembling hands, she placed the items on the coffee table and quickly retreated, fearing the young master's wrath. After all, in Emerald City, who dared provoke Young Master Reed?

Grace stared back at Jason, her eyes wide. She sensed his anger, even in his beautiful eyes. Fear consumed her; she had always feared him. Yet, she found the courage to meet his gaze.

Finally, he lowered his eyes, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Since you’re going to find a job yourself, then find it yourself.”

He gently unwrapped the gauze from her fingers, deftly removing it, reapplying ointment, and wrapping her fingers in fresh gauze. His movements were gentle and careful.

Grace found herself watching him. His head was lowered, so she couldn’t see his face, but his gestures felt protective. He had been changing her dressings daily, insisting on doing so despite her suggestion that a servant could manage.

“I don’t trust anyone else with Sis,” he had explained.

Sometimes she didn’t understand him. One moment he seemed angry; the next, he was gently tending her wounds. He was… different. Temperamental, perhaps.

As he finished bandaging her fingers, he raised his eyes. Their gazes locked. The anger was gone, replaced by a smile.