Chapter 72 Mistress
Did he really need her to admit that it was Aidan who left those marks? Was it that important to him?
Jack, what a jerk, a total jerk!
She cursed him in her mind, wishing she could punch him in the face. She was innocent!
But Jack stood in front of her like a block of wood, demanding an explanation.
He loved seeing her embarrassed. The more uncomfortable she was, the more satisfied he seemed.
What a terrible guy!
She wasn't Emily; she was Alison!
She wanted to find Emily and clear everything up, to tell Jack that it was Emily who caused all this, not her, Alison.
But then again, Jack knew she was Alison, not Emily.
Ugh, it was all because of her face, dragging her into this meticulously designed trap.
She clenched her fists and bit her lip. If he wanted to humiliate her, she would face it bravely.
"Mr. Winston, those marks were left by the CEO. Are you satisfied now?" she snapped, then turned and ran.
She shouldn't cry, shouldn't lose control, but at that moment, she couldn't help it. Her heart ached.
She ran like the wind, and the sycamore trees along the road no longer looked beautiful.
When you're in a bad mood, nothing looks right.
People on the street stopped to watch her run, pointing and whispering.
She became a temporary spectacle on the Champs-Élysées.
"Jack, go after Miss Fairchild. Don't let her run off and get lost," Aimée called from behind.
Jack stared at her slender figure, feeling something indescribable.
The hickey on her neck flashed before his eyes.
So, she was just another loose woman.
Any remaining goodwill he had for Alison vanished. Though he had suspected, hearing her admit it still surprised him. Her reaction was odd, though.
He was puzzled. Let her run; she'd stop at the Arc de Triomphe, and he could catch up then.
He didn't want to chase her because he didn't want to see the red marks on her neck again. How had he missed them this morning? Oh, right, he was distracted by the bloodstain Aimée left on the bed, not noticing Alison's changes.
"Jack, this isn't right," Aimée tried to persuade him.
"It's fine. Aidan must have done something to her, which is why she's acting so strange. She'll be fine in a few days," Jack blamed Aidan, the only explanation he could think of.
Alison ran ahead, with Jack and Aimée following behind.
She kept running, soon disappearing from Jack's sight.
Tears streamed down her face; she seemed especially prone to crying today.
Surrounded by onlookers, she wanted to find a secluded place to hide.
Through her tear-blurred vision, she saw the Arc de Triomphe, but its grandeur no longer interested her.
Alison kept running, spotting a tour bus ahead. A man approached her, "Miss, would you like to visit the castle?"
A castle?
The idea of a castle intrigued Alison, offering a sense of mystery and escape.
That mystery was like a temptation, making her, in her heartbroken state, want to see it.
Boarding the tour bus would let her get away from Jack for a while.
Right now, she dreaded seeing Jack and Aimée together.
Did she still love him?
She couldn't say, couldn't understand. She just nodded to the man and got on the bus.
The bus was packed with tourists. As soon as she sat down, it started moving.
She looked out the window, ensuring Aimée and Jack were out of sight.
With Aimée around, he wouldn't care about her.
She cried, she was sad, and he wouldn't care.
He only had eyes for Aimée, while she was just his brother's woman, or rather, his brother's mistress.
Thinking of the word "mistress" made her heart ache. Long ago, she had been Jack's mistress too...
A kind, plump woman next to her asked, "Miss, do you need help?"
Alison realized her distress might have scared those around her.
She wiped her tears and whispered, "I'm fine, just remembered some sad things from the past. See, I'm better now." She forced a smile, not wanting others to look at her strangely.
"That's good. Miss, where are you from?" the woman asked.
"Canada," Alison replied.
"I've heard Canada is a great place to visit," the woman said.
"Yes," Alison didn't want to talk much, but the woman was chatty, so she had to keep up.
"I heard the castle tour is a highlight of Paris. Are you here alone?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Alison thought, those two had already forgotten her, so she might as well start her Paris journey alone. As for Aidan's business, let Jack handle it. She never wanted to see Jack again.
"I'm alone too. Shall we go together?" the woman warmly suggested.
"Sure," Alison thought it would be boring alone. The woman, in her forties, was round and cute, unlikely to have any ulterior motives.
The bus sped along. As Alison's tears dried and her mood calmed, she looked out at the scenery, finding everything beautiful, beyond her imagination. Her first time in Paris, she was already enchanted.
She decided to forget the scenes on the Champs-Élysées for now.
At this moment, she just wanted solitude to accompany her through the pain. Only solitude could ease her heartache.
The bus stopped in an old town about sixty kilometers from Paris, with buildings from the last century.
It stopped in front of a castle as night fell. Alison followed the thirty or forty tourists from various countries. Though not an official tour group, it seemed safe. She walked absentmindedly, feeling empty, unable to think. Her phone had been off for a long time, and she didn't want to turn it on. Jack probably wouldn't look for her; he only had eyes for Aimée. Thinking of this made her heart ache.