Chapter 138
The next day, Oscar and I arrived at Harborview Club right on time.
Alan and Vivian were already waiting in the private room, sitting side by side but keeping their distance.
When Alan saw us, he stood up to greet us, his lips curved into a smile, but his cold eyes held no warmth: "Uncle Oscar, Emily, please have a seat."
I casually glanced around—this was their turf, so we needed to stay alert.
Vivian's face lacked its usual friendly smile. The way she looked at us was more filled with disgust, probably blaming us for everything that happened yesterday and holding a grudge.
Oscar and I calmly took our seats at the table, meeting their not-so-friendly gaze: "Vivian, what happened to Jeffrey—Alan brought it on himself. Don't look at me like that. At least we didn't tell him to run someone over, and we certainly didn't tell him to kill the person if they didn't die from being hit."
Though I smiled, my voice grew colder.
Had they forgotten that the current situation existed because Alan was the one who hired Jeffrey as a hitman in the first place?
Alan coughed and put on a much more sincere-looking smile: "Since we've reached this point, there's no need to dwell on it. I assume your purpose isn't just to blame me. Of course, first I need to apologize to you. I'm sorry, I was confused for a moment and thought you were blocking Oscar's plans. Fortunately, no real harm was done."
He didn't try to deny hiring a hitman anymore, indirectly admitting what he'd done.
Vivian raised her voice: "What happened yesterday makes us even. Alan did something he shouldn't have, and you got your revenge. Let's call it square."
Oscar's face darkened. He looked at Alan coldly and said: "He hired a hitman first. Emily nearly lost her life because of him. This isn't over. We didn't tell Jeffrey to kill anyone. If he wanted to kill you, it's because you were too ruthless yourself. Don't blame us."
Alan gestured for Vivian to stop talking. "Uncle Oscar has a point. I'm still alive, which shows you showed me mercy. Once I finish what I need to do, however you want to deal with me, I'll accept it."
Oscar leaned back slightly against his chair: "Fine. Since you're Alan, why would you help me? You seem even more eager than I am to see the Lopez family go bankrupt. What exactly happened ten years ago?"
The smile completely vanished from Alan's face. His eyes burst with intense hatred. He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to touch those distant memories.
"Yes, I was once the Lopez family's proudest heir. I should have taken over The Novagen Group, married the person I loved, had children, and lived a happy life." As he spoke, he looked at Vivian with eyes full of attachment and reluctance.
It was the look that only lovers who had been together for years would share. Their eyes met, and beyond the love, regret slowly overflowed. The dejection on their faces could no longer be hidden.
Vivian silently reached out and tightly grasped his hand.
Alan took another deep breath, gently patted the back of Vivian's hand with his other hand, and said with a faint smile: "There's a secret that perhaps no one knows except William and Grace."
The fact that he could call his father William by name surprised me—what kind of deep hatred would cause that?
He only regretted being too young at the time and not noticing any changes in the Lopez family.
Alan spoke slowly: "Actually, I'm not their son. To be precise, I'm the child William had with the housekeeper. Back then, my birth mother was raped by William when he was drunk, and William silenced her. So she held a grudge. Since she and Grace were pregnant only a month apart, she found a way to switch me into the Lopez family on the day of delivery."
Oscar and I couldn't help but exchange glances. Such a dramatic, soap-opera plot sounded too absurd.
Alan laughed self-mockingly: "Unbelievable, right? Who would think something like this could actually happen? If my birth mother hadn't come to acknowledge me that day, I never would have imagined I had such an absurd background."
He quickly fell back into his memories: "I'll never forget that day. Thirteen-year-old Gregory told me that woman had come again and asked me to secretly meet her. I went. I wanted to make it clear to her that after all these years, William and Grace were my parents. I wanted her to stay away from my life. I wanted to keep this secret. But in the end, I never saw that woman. What greeted me was a locked door and a suddenly raging fire. Gregory locked that door, and Gregory set that fire."
Oscar and I looked at each other in disbelief. Gregory was the mastermind? This was truly beyond expectations.
Alan's eyes filled with hatred, as if he had returned to that night of towering flames: "I heard arguing outside. My birth mother accused Gregory of arson, loudly saying that even though I was her son, I was still a member of the Lopez family. She threatened them to rescue me immediately and said she would send Gregory to the police."
"When William called for help, I heard Grace's voice. That was the mom I had called 'mother' for twenty years, but she stopped William from calling for help, saying that if Alan was rescued, Gregory would be finished, and the Lopez family's reputation would be ruined too."
"Just for the sake of reputation, to avoid criticism of their other son, they watched me burn to death."
Alan looked at us with sorrow, as if even now, he still couldn't accept being abandoned by those he loved most.
"Because I was the housekeeper's son, my existence was William's stain, the Lopez family's stain?"
His voice suddenly filled with rage: "I still don't understand—they loved me so much normally, but how could they be so heartless?"
Vivian reached out and held the trembling Alan tightly. "It's all in the past, Alan, it's all in the past. You still have me. I can love you. I'll give you everything you want. Don't be sad."
Alan gradually calmed down, looked at us with reddened eyes, and laughed self-mockingly: "I never imagined that the one who would save me in the end would be that woman I'd barely met. She rushed in and pushed me out of the fire with all her strength. I lived, but she died, burned to a small pile of ashes that couldn't be identified."
Oscar couldn't help but sigh: "So that's why you hate them?"
Alan sneered and raised an eyebrow: "Not just hate. What I want is for them to pay with their lives—to repay my mother's life, and my life from that fire."