Chapter 705 - 697: Eleanor Bishop VS Archie Lockwood (Extra Edition)

Chapter 705: Chapter 697: Eleanor Bishop VS Archie Lockwood (Extra Edition)

Four months later, in Jevon, at a small, unremarkable restaurant.

"Hey, lady, a bowl of noodle soup."

A thuggish-looking punk rapped his fingers on the counter and shouted impatiently, "Hey, lady, you open for business or what? I said, a bowl of noodle soup!"

Startled, the woman quickly tore her eyes away from the television screen. She pushed up the large, black-framed glasses on her face and bowed her head apologetically. "Oh, I’m so sorry, I spaced out for a moment. Please, find a seat. It’ll be ready right away."

"Heh..." The punk glanced at the middle-aged-looking woman, who was staring blankly at the man on TV, and sneered. Chewing gum, he rapped his knuckles on the counter again. "Lady, you know who that guy is?"

"Who?"

"He’s the chairman and CEO of the IS Group! And you’re just a lady selling noodle soup on the street. What’s the point of you staring at him? Think you can stare some money out of the TV for you to spend?"

Hearing the punk’s words, Eleanor Bishop’s face flushed with shame and anger.

"Look, lady, don’t take this the wrong way, but my words aren’t pretty. Just look at this dump. Besides me and my guys, who else ever comes in here? Instead of wasting time watching TV, you should be taking good care of your customers. We’re the ones giving you money, after all." As he spoke, the punk swaggered, pulling a hundred-yuan bill from his pocket and slapping it onto the counter.

The sharp SLAP of the bill on the counter made her jump, and a wave of fear washed over her.

This punk’s name was Carl Archer, and he usually hung around this part of town.

Her little restaurant had done decent business at first. But ever since these punks started frequenting the place, they’d scared away the other customers. Business got worse day by day.

Lately, she’d been planning to sell the shop. If things went on like this, her family was probably going to starve.

Apprehensively, she collected the money from the counter and handed the change back to Carl Archer.

Carl Archer took the money, turned, and casually yanked a chair over to sit down.

Half an hour later, after seeing the man out, Eleanor Bishop finally let out a quiet sigh of relief. She glanced at her watch; it was already past four in the afternoon.

She locked up the restaurant and headed to a nearby market.

Once she had all the ingredients she needed, she cut through a small alley and headed home.

Their home was a secondhand apartment they had bought when they moved here six years ago. While it was nothing compared to the old Bishop Family mansion, to her, it was the best she could ask for.

At least, it was quiet here. No one bothered them. More importantly, she no longer had to fear her father’s old friends showing up to berate her, nor the sudden appearance of mysterious creditors.

"Eleanor, you’re back."

"Mm."

Yara Ross looked at the grocery bags in her daughter’s hands and asked with a smile, "Was business good today? How much did you make?"

"Just this," Eleanor Bishop said. She knew exactly what her mother was getting at. She walked over, pulled all the money from her pants pocket, and placed it on the table.

Yara Ross’s expression soured. "This is it?"

"Yes. The rest of the money went to groceries and medicine. So, Mom, this is all that’s left."

"Eleanor, darling, I’m not trying to criticize you, but you earn so little each day. It’s barely enough to give to a beggar. Look at my face. Now look at my hands. What have they become?"