Chapter 3: Discharge from the Hospital

"What's going on with her mom?" Henry asked impatiently from inside the car. Charlotte's mom, Tyla Arabas — he had once called her "Mrs. Dawson," but now, even with just a glimpse, he could guess that her days in the hospital must have been tough.

"Sir, I have looked into it thoroughly, some people are trying to curry favor with you by being duplicitous."

He frowned, "Tidy this up, I never engage in such behind-the-scenes scheming."

"Yes," Adam responded.

As seconds and minutes passed by, night fell, and Charlotte walked out of the hospital, rubbing her cheeks to bring herself to alertness.

She didn't have much cash on her, yet her mother was held captive by Henry. She lowered her head, caressing her belly as if feeling its anguish, her limbs beginning to tremble.

She had to find a job, otherwise, when the baby was born, how would she provide a good life for him?

Her educational background could be useful, but the record from her time in prison was sure to be noted. When the HR department did their checks, everyone would show regret on their faces. Even those with guts would be scared off by a mere word from Mr. Henry Chan.

No one in Luo City's business circles could afford to provoke the tycoons. A sardonic smile curled the corner of her lips as the documents in her hands were nearly crumpled into a ball.

In a daze, she patted her belly and murmured, "Baby, am I really that useless?"

"Ouch! Can't you watch where you're going?!"

She lowered her head and carefully said, "I'm sorry!"

"Charlotte?" a surprised voice exclaimed from the other side, "You're back, why didn't you tell me?"

Charlotte looked up to see a well-dressed woman who seemed familiar, as if she had seen her somewhere before. She quickly turned to leave.

Amelia Carr instantly embraced her, a glint of joy in her eyes: "You forgot, I am Amelia! Your roommate!"

Roommate?

The term was subtly used. Amelia and Sister Li shared a cell and often Sister Li would beat her up.

Back when Charlotte was in prison, she had seen Amelia being bullied and had simply acted on impulse. After all, having learned to fight back, protecting one more person was the same. But Amelia always said she would take care of her after she got out of prison — Charlotte had thought it was a joke and didn't think much of it.

"I'm sorry," Charlotte lowered her head again.

Seeing that Charlotte didn't have any luggage with her, Amelia could guess her current situation and didn't dwell on it. Instead, she offered, "You can move in with me."

Charlotte agreed. She truly had nowhere to go; even if she could bear her own suffering, she couldn't let her baby be harmed again.

Amelia lived in a detached villa in the affluent area of Luo City. Charlotte had imagined Amelia to be wealthy, but she had never thought her net worth would be so substantial. Amelia's house was empty, but the bookshelf was filled with psychology books. Amelia handed Charlotte a bag containing some cash and a change of clothes, casually saying, "Now that you're here, don't be a stranger."

"Thank you..." Charlotte was a bit embarrassed, "I'll pay you back when I start working."

"Hm?" Amelia looked puzzled for a moment. Watching Charlotte clutching the bag and continuously glancing at the psychology books on the shelf, Amelia suddenly suggested, "How about this, if you really want to repay me, I could set up a psychology therapy center. You could come work there! You can repay me by deducting it from your salary."

"Huh?" Charlotte looked at Amelia, puzzled. The idea of setting up a therapy center in Luo City seemed far-fetched without serious financial backing.

Taking a puff of her cigarette, Amelia asked, "You think a woman can't own a business or have savings?"

Amelia was no rookie; she'd majored in business and, post-graduation, erected a commercial empire with her spouse. Tragically, her pregnancy was marred by domestic violence, landing her in jail for retaliating against her husband. Luck was on her side, though—her husband perished in a car crash soon after her imprisonment, leaving her as his sole heir.

"I trust you. Let me help you," Charlotte murmured, she decided after her release from prison, with nowhere else to turn and no job to her name.

"Mm." Amelia pulled her into a hug. "It'll be alright."

At night, covered in blankets, they cuddled close like in their prison days, basking in shared warmth.

Months of preparation later, they launched their first psychotherapy clinic in downtown Luocheng. Modest in size but invitingly decorated, Charlotte stood outside in a mini-skirt, sorting through friends' presents, self-consciously smoothing her skirt, still unaccustomed to her exposed legs.

Amelia laughed softly, "You look gorgeous, you know?"

"I'm not quite there yet..." Charlotte's cheeks warmed. Prison had changed her—gone were the days of being Mr. Dawson, her hair now cropped short, a stark departure from her former long locks, a change born from the traumatic hair-pulling incidents behind bars. The skirt felt foreign, but it was part of her new life.

"Just be confident—it's all for the business," Amelia reassured, straightening up her own attire with a resigned smile.

Charlotte was aware that to draw clients to their fledgling clinic, they'd need more than just skill; community outreach and free sessions were her go-to.

"We'll make it work," Amelia promised confidently.

"Okay." Charlotte nodded, following Amelia into a swanky club where the staff had laid out refreshments. They were there on an invitation from Amelia's friend, to offer counseling to the club owner's sister.

"Mr. Chan, I hear your ex-wife's in trouble. Doesn't that bother you?" a man jeered, swirling his drink.

Henry scowled, silent, downing his drink in a swift motion.

"Enough," David, one of Henry's friends, elbowed the man. It was bad form to gossip, especially about someone considered a jinx in their circles—he was intent on ousting her from their social web.

"She's bad news," muttered Henry, setting down his glass and loosening his tie for some fresh air. Stepping out, he caught sight of a woman in a crimson skirt at the end of the hallway. Her figure was striking, and her smooth legs emerged from the skirt's hem. She was all smiles, speaking gently to a waiter—her usual sharp edges seemingly softened.

He smirked with a glint of coldness in his eyes.