The Celibate Tycoon Has Fallen-Chapter 90: You Didn’t Get Beaten, Did You?

Yelena Hughes didn’t dare linger for too long, nor did she dare leave Jasper Yale’s phone behind.

She walked out of the restroom with the same posture; as soon as she got outside, she saw Jasper waiting there.

Yelena wanted to slip into his arms—only that way could she smoothly return his phone.

But Jasper pressed a hand to her shoulder. "You done vomiting?"

"Yeah, I feel a little better now."

"Then stay away from me."

She gripped the phone tightly, afraid Nancy Alden would keep calling.

Jasper glanced at her bare shoulders. "Go change your clothes."

Yelena got an idea. "It’s so cold."

"You’re basically naked. If you’re not cold, who is?"

Yelena started shivering, her lips trembling. "I’m cold."

He wasn’t exactly a kind person, but he couldn’t resist Yelena’s watery eyes—Jasper pulled off his long coat and draped it over her shoulders. "Better?"

"Yeah, it’s warm."

Wearing his coat, she went to the lounge and quickly put his phone back in her pocket.

Yelena leaned against the cabinet door, while Madeline Forest spoke to her—none of it got through.

"Yelena, how did you get so drunk?"

She shook her head. "I, I... want to go home."

"Like this, you can’t even change your clothes."

Madeline quickly opened Yelena’s locker and put a sweater over her. Luckily, the pants she wore today were loose, so she could just barely pull them on over her work shorts.

"How are you getting home? Let me take you."

Before Madeline could finish, Jasper pushed open the door. She jumped, startled. "Uh, sir, people change clothes here all the time."

Jasper walked straight to Yelena’s side, one arm around her, the other reaching out toward Madeline.

Madeline got the message and quickly handed him his coat.

"Actually, I could take her home," Madeline stammered, unwilling to just leave Yelena to him.

Jasper hadn’t looked at her once since coming in; only now did he glance her way. "You got no customers? Too free, huh?"

Madeline clamped her mouth shut at once.

Jasper led Yelena out; her feet could barely drag along the floor, and he paused, thinking about carrying her.

But Yelena kept twisting her body, mumbling for him not to.

She didn’t need his help—though dizzy, she clung to her last bit of rationale. How could she stomach being carried princess-style by Jasper in front of everyone?

They reached the entrance of The Sovereign Club; the car was waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Jasper was about to help her into the car when a faint horn sounded.

He followed the noise and saw Lindsay Walsh drive up on her scooter.

"Yelena, finished with work?"

Lindsay got off, struggling with the scooter. Yelena, buffeted by the wind, felt as if sand got in her eyes. "Mom."

Lindsay came over to help her up. "Let’s go home."

Yelena still couldn’t stand straight and slumped against Lindsay. "Why did you come?"

"Can you walk?"

She probably could.

Yelena forced herself to take a few steps, but Jasper stepped forward and grabbed her.

He didn’t know what to call Lindsay, so he just spoke directly: "It’s dangerous to take her home on your scooter. She drank too much tonight—if she collapses on the road..."

Lindsay saw Yelena really couldn’t stand, and thought about calling a taxi.

"Aside from customers, no other cars can park here. You’d have to walk some way to catch a cab."

It was still raining. Though Jasper’s head was sheltered by an umbrella, half of Yelena’s body was soaked.

"Let me drive her home."

The look Lindsay gave Jasper had changed long ago.

She couldn’t forget how this man was holding her daughter earlier, his hands not behaving at all.

"No need." Lindsay’s voice was icy cold now.

Jasper pulled Yelena closer and wouldn’t let go. "So you’d rather watch her trip and die right here?"

Yelena tried to break free, but the man wouldn’t let her.

At the entrance, people were coming and going; Lindsay’s scooter was soaked by the rain.

In the end, she compromised—dragging this out would only embarrass Yelena most of all.

"I’ll just follow alongside."

Lindsay helped Yelena to the car; Jasper noticed she was wearing a rain poncho, but her pants were drenched.

"You should get in the car too."

"No need, I’ll dirty up your car." It really didn’t feel right to Lindsay—after all, the car looked expensive.

Yelena was stuffed into the car, her body limp against the seat. Using the last bit of her strength, she slid herself over to the other door.

Jasper wanted to call Lindsay in once more, but she’d already climbed back onto her scooter, keeping alongside the car.

Hailey Jenkins told the driver to go slow—the rain was pouring, the windows were all fogged up, you could barely see anything outside.

Yelena pressed against the glass, staring at Lindsay’s yellow vest—so conspicuous.

She kept silent the whole ride; the car matched the scooter’s speed, left and right, making their way through the rain.

Soon they came to the traffic light; Lindsay couldn’t see what was happening inside the car, so she knocked on the window.

The driver lowered the window a bit; Lindsay saw Jasper wasn’t sitting next to Yelena, wasn’t touching her at all, and only then felt relieved.

They entered the apartment complex; once Lindsay parked her scooter, she hurried over to the car.

She helped Yelena out. "Slow down."

Before shutting the car door, Lindsay glanced at the man getting out. "I can handle it myself. No need to bother you."

Jasper watched as Lindsay supported Yelena, leading her into the dark hallway.

The motion-sensor light turned on, and their silhouettes lit up too.

Back home, Lindsay helped Yelena to her room and pulled the blanket over her.

Yelena buried her head under the covers, not daring to come out or utter a word.

Lindsay heated some water and helped her out of her clothes, wiping her down a bit.

Seeing Yelena still curled up, head covered, Lindsay tucked her legs into the blanket. "Go to sleep."

She didn’t insist on waking her up and asking anything; as Lindsay left, she switched off the light.

Only then did Yelena pull her head out—what she dreaded most had happened.

Staring at the sliver of light from the hallway, her eyes stung.

On his way home, Jasper took out his phone.

He had Yelena’s WhatsApp, though she’d been blocked before.

Jasper re-added her and opened her status feed.

The latest post was from three days ago—a photo of a takeout box, captioned: Getting myself extra chicken, let’s go!

Jasper took a look at the meal. So simple—just the barebones set from the shop.

Yelena heard her phone ring, picked it up and glanced at the screen.

There was one message on WhatsApp: "Did you get hit?"