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"My name is Kalinda,"
Kalinda forced herself to remain calm.
"Okay, Kalinda,"
Chuck nodded.
Seeing Chuck didn't say 'Okay, Lina,' Kalinda relaxed her tense posture a little, and with a hint of sarcasm, she asked, "Did you pick up the name Lina from my microexpressions?"
"My main job is accounting, but I'm also a detective now."
Chuck looked at her. "You're an investigator, too. You should be used to investigating people's pasts, right?"
"..."
Kalinda remained silent.
She was used to investigating others, not being investigated.
Thinking back to Chuck's words, 'People intentionally or unintentionally rewrite their pasts,' she felt strangely unsettled. She was once again being analyzed.
Because of the past she had desperately tried to escape, she had been called Lina before changing her name.
As an investigator, she had thought she had paid a high price to keep it secret.
Now it seemed that for truly dangerous people, all this was just self-deception.
That's right!
She was now certain that Chuck was a dangerous person.
Far from overestimating him earlier, she'd actually underestimated him.
She already regretted her relentless pursuit of the truth.
Damn her curiosity!
Damn her competitive spirit!
If she hadn't been angry that Chuck's job was so much easier than hers and his income was so much higher, if she hadn't been curious about whether Chuck had intentionally failed to uphold his professional ethics, she wouldn't be in such a state of confusion right now.
"The case is closed, and I'm leaving soon."
Chuck turned sideways to face Kalinda, paused, and extended his hand. "You're an excellent investigator. I look forward to working with you again."
"Thank you."
Kalinda was stunned. She stared at Chuck for a few seconds, hesitated, and then extended her hand in return.
Chuck released her hand and calmly pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his briefcase. Ignoring Kalinda's expression, he poured the sanitizer into his right hand, which had been shaking her hand, and began to sanitize it carefully.
Kalinda's face darkened at first, then a thought struck her, and her expression suddenly brightened. Finally, she smiled helplessly.
She understood what Chuck meant.
Chuck, autistic, obsessive-compulsive, and germaphobic, was willing to offer her a handshake, a sure sign of goodwill.
After realizing this, she felt somewhat flattered by these gestures, which most people would find unbearable.
This psychological shift was involuntary, leaving her feeling helpless.
But it made sense. As someone with a past that couldn't be exposed to scrutiny, facing the overtures of someone who knew all about it, and from such a formidable genius, would she be foolish not to accept?
Besides, not everyone could receive such treatment; she was what Chuck had called an excellent investigator.
After sanitizing, Chuck put away the hand sanitizer, nodded to Kalinda, and walked away.
After a few steps, his phone vibrated slightly. Chuck picked it up, checked it, and then put it away. He turned back to Kalinda and said, "A friendly reminder: Chicago is too far from Eastern Europe and too close to UC Berkeley. Be careful."
He turned and walked away.
As Kalinda was pondering the meaning of this, her phone rang. She opened it and saw an email from an unknown number. Her face changed as she opened it.
It contained intimate photos of her and a man, along with his recent updates.
After she finished reading, the email automatically disappeared, leaving only red text covering the screen: "Be careful!"
Now she fully understood what Chuck had meant.
That man was her husband, the dangerous figure she'd gone to such great lengths to escape by changing her name.
They were both from Montenegro.
The news she'd just seen indicated that her dangerous husband was expanding his operations, nearing Chicago and would soon arrive to expand into the market.
What kind of operations?
As their background suggested, organized crime.
Once he arrived, given his influence and the unique nature of her work, running into him was inevitable; there was no way to avoid it.
Kalinda stood in the gallery, her face shifting for a long time before she reluctantly suppressed the urge to flee. She prepared to carefully plan her future.
Then, a second thought struck her, and she finally realized what the previous scene meant. She hadn't forgotten the question her best friend had asked Chuck before: if the "C" in AC represented the genius Chuck, then who was the "A" who could partner with C?
Now she seemed to understand.
Texas.
East Texas.
A man and two women stood in front of a suburban home, waiting for something. They were a family of three.
The man, bald and kind-looking, was none other than the bald director of the IRS branch who had shown kindness to young Sheldon, only to be embarrassed by his arrogance and ultimately taught him a lesson through Chuck.
To his right stood a tall, middle-aged woman, taller than him, her face brimming with excitement and nervousness.
To his left stood a girl, about thirteen or fourteen, with a few freckles on her face and a mischievous, cunning look in her eyes. She wore a red hoodie, which only accentuated her youthful beauty.
"Hayley, when Chuck gets here, don't play a prank on him."
The bald director, noticing his daughter's look, reluctantly warned, "He's finally coming home, and your mom is looking forward to it. Don't mess it up."
"I know, I know,"
the young woman chuckled. "This is just sibling rivalry. You, the IRS Director, should stay out of it. Isn't it enough to just give orders at work? You don't even forget to do it when you get home?"
"Ah."
The bald director, faced with his daughter's teasing, suddenly thought of little Sheldon he'd met not long ago, and George Cooper, who had put on such a brave face for his challenging son. He sighed deeply in frustration.
Having an overly gifted child can sometimes be a burden.
"Hayley, don't mess around,"
her husband's words reminded the middle-aged woman. She reached out and took her daughter's hand, warning, "Chuck is the older brother, and he..."
She paused, tears streaming down her face.
"Okay, it's severe autism."
Seeing her mother crying, the young girl Hayley comforted her, "Well, actually, it's more accurate to say it's Asperger's syndrome, which is completely different from typical autistic patients. Look, he's doing well now."
"Yes, Bran."
The bald director also hurried to comfort her, "Chuck is doing very well now."
"That's because of me."
The middle-aged woman Bran was even more sad and blamed herself, "Because I don't have the courage and patience to be a good mother, I gave up on him. God knows how much he has suffered to become like this. It's all my fault."
"So, I'm your fault too?"
The young girl Hayley said dissatisfiedly, "If you hadn't left Chuck, how could you have met dad? If you hadn't met dad, how could I have existed?"
"I didn't say that~"
the middle-aged woman said through her tears.
Although the words were negative, the tone was completely different.
"..."
The young girl Hayley never expected that even this argument wouldn't work.
(End of this chapter)
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