Buried 22

Chapter 22 

“You don’t have to cook yourself. I can make do with anything.” James’s eyes were filled with tender care, very evi- dent and hard to conceal. “Your hands are not meant for these tasks. You should be painting and playing the piano.” 

Her talent and abilities were always top-notch wherever she went, and shouldn’t be wasted. 

Harper shook her head slightly, “After all these years, I’ve long lost my touch.” 

Her hands had calluses, having been soaked in cheap dishwashing liquid, no longer suitable for touching expensive instruments and brushes. She had also been punished by her biological father for dropping a restaurant plate because she couldn’t withstand the heat. 

After being kicked to the ground and whipped with an electrical cord, she learned her lesson, remembering the pain. The next time, no matter how hot the soup or plate was, she could grit her teeth and carry it. 

Now, just cooking a meal was considered a blessing. 

James’s hand rested on hers. He didn’t mind Harper’s fingers with sores and comforted her softly, “How could that be? These past few days, you’ve been helping me with the accounts, and you’ve done a great job.” 

Someone actually thought she was good 

Tears welled up in Harper’s eyes. Her biological father called her a money pit, wanting her to sell herself. Her adop- tive parents abandoned her, warning her not to make mistakes again. Only James praised her. 

She wanted to thank James, but his gaze focused on her wrist. 

“What’s this?” 

Her sleeve slid up in the friction, revealing several scars on her forearm. Harper quickly tried to cover them, but James had already seen them. He adjusted his glasses, his expression becoming more serious. 

“I accidentally cut myself,” Harper made up an excuse. 

James wasn’t foolish. “Then how come it left a scar, and such a deep one?” 

“Really, it’s nothing.” 

Harper tried to evade by standing up, “It’s getting late. I should head back.” 

“Wait, I’ll drive you.” 

“No” 

“Mr. Walker asked me to come over. It’s on the way.” 

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09:36 

Chapter 22 

In the car, Harper occasionally showed expressions of pain and struggle, sometimes looking peaceful, but all fleeting. The scars on her forearm and wrist were indeed self-inflicted. 

It was an experience not worth remembering. 

Debt collectors came to the door, and her father fled, locking her in the car to draw attention. Unexpectedly, the group didn’t fall for it, and she was left trapped in the van. 

The van had nothing inside, and the door was locked from the outside. 

For nearly two days, without a drop of water, the only thing in the car was a craft knife. The blade was too thin to break the window or open the door. On the verge of dehydration, Harper cut her wrist. Blood flowed out, and she ten- tatively sucked on the wound, wetting her lips with the blood. That metallic, sweet taste, accompanied by the pain and the lack of oxygen in the car, became her nightmare. 

After seeing Harper upstairs, James turned and entered Liam’s study. 

Liam quickly glanced at him and continued with his work, speaking in a light-hearted tone, as if chatting casually. without noticing the gravity on James’s face. 

“Harper’s back?” 

“I saw her go into her room.” 

Nodding with satisfaction, Liam trusted James, which was why he arranged for him to marry Harper instead of Noah. “Harper doesn’t have the Zhou surname anymore, but she’s still half a daughter of the Walker family. Marrying you, you’re not at a disadvantage.” 

“Mr. Walker,” James hesitated, “Recently, I’ve noticed something odd about Miss Sullivan. Her life these years prob- ably hasn’t been as good as you think.” 

Liam’s pen paused mid-stroke. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Miss Sullivan has scars, not just one. When she falls asleep in the car, she talks in her sleep and sometimes cries. Af- ter a conflict with someone, her first reaction is to apologize, even if it’s not her fault.” James was meticulous and sus- picious. “And once I accompanied Miss Sullivan to a meal, and we encountered a man in the restaurant.” 

Liam closed the file in front of him and leaned back in his chair, “If it’s not a big deal, there’s no need to bring it up.”