Chapter 212: Eyes Full of Expectation
“Just agree with me,” Jack murmured, his fingers tracing his chin. “Otherwise, I’ll find a way to make you submit.”
"Kill yourself? Or what?" Alison teased.
"Yes. If you don't go, I'll really kill myself." His smile vanished as he spoke seriously.
The contrast of his solemn face and words made Alison burst out laughing.
“Alison, it’s settled. This Friday, okay?”
“Jack, go see Aimée.”
Jack swept a strand of hair from Alison’s forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “Alison, don’t you feel angry about how she treated you?”
“Of course I’m angry. I nearly fell apart when Sophia went missing. But I understand a mother’s heart. Maybe she just wants to give her child a complete family.”
“Silly girl, you’re always thinking of others. Can’t you be a little selfish? Sophia and Ethan need a complete family, too.” He gently pinched her nose.
“Jack, she’s carrying your child. No matter what, you should go see her.” She continued to persuade him.
“I’ll visit Aimée in a few days when I have time, though I really don’t want to.”
“What have you been up to lately? What about that call you took the other night? Any progress?”
“Alison, you don’t need to worry about those things. Your job right now is to eat well, sleep well, and take good care of the kids,” he said.
“Hey, you’re treating me like a housewife.” She feigned anger.
“Not at all. You’re my darling.” He pulled her close and let her rest against his chest.
“Let go of me! The kids might see us like this,” she murmured shyly.
“So what? You’re their mom; I’m their dad. This is perfectly normal.” He held her close.
“Jack, any leads on Rebel?”
She had told him about Rebel before, and she hadn’t quit her job. He’d only reminded her they couldn’t risk tipping off the target.
After staying here for a few days, she couldn’t even be bothered to go to Rebel. All she wanted was to stay in this new home with him and the children.
“Alison, go back to work for a few more days. Once I handle this matter, you can resign.”
“Jack, do you think that man might be connected to the Polar Bear Alliance? If so, be careful.” Her heart raced with worry.
“Got it, my dear.” He kissed her and pulled her into his arms.
“Where are we going?”
“To the bedroom,” he replied with a playful grin.
“But it’s only 8:30 p.m.! The kids aren’t asleep yet.” She protested; she could feel his body responding. She was nearly overwhelmed by his boundless energy.
“We’re not going to sleep,” he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling broadly.
“Then what?” she asked, fear creeping in. His desires always struck without warning.
“Oh, right. The email,” he said. He suddenly remembered it.
“Jack, it’s really nothing,” she said, her cheeks flushing. Most of the emails contained her photos. She’d only kept them, hoping to one day find clues about that person.
“No, I have to check it.” He held her tightly, his lips close to her ear. “What? Afraid I’ll see your pictures?”
His words made her cheeks burn even hotter. In a panic, she kicked him. The pain made him let go, and she seized the chance to dash up the stairs.
“Alison…” He chased after her.
“Daddy, go! Catch Mommy up!” Sophia and Ethan emerged from their room, cheering from behind as they witnessed the scene.
Alison ran fast. She dashed into the bedroom and locked the door behind her, leaning against it and gasping for breath. Jack’s words made her heart pound even harder.
“Alison, open the door!” he yelled, pounding on it.
She ignored him, pressing herself against the door and listening to the sounds outside.
Gradually, the noise subsided.
She smiled, thinking Sophia and Ethan must have called him away.
She walked over to the computer, determined to check her email carefully and delete those embarrassing photos.
She turned it on, entered her email address, and password.
Recalling past events, her pulse quickened.
Avoiding the email marked with a skull icon, she opened the earliest email she had received.
Photos of herself filled the screen.
She wanted to delete them, but feared that would destroy the evidence of his coercion.
She carefully sorted through them, deciding which photos to delete.
Just as she was about to click the delete button, Jack grabbed her arm. “Alison, don’t delete them.”
He stared intently at the photo on the screen—Alison lay sleeping with her eyes closed.
He knew this clearly wasn’t Emily.
What astonished Jack most was the angle and artistic quality of the photos. Each one captured her expression, showcasing exceptional artistic ability. The images had been retouched.
“Alison, give me the mouse,” he pleaded.
“No, don’t look,” Alison said, her face flushing red.
“Alison, give it to me. Look at these photos. The little mole on your ear is gone, your hair is perfectly styled, and your fingers are elegantly pressed together.” Jack grew more animated as he spoke.
Alison realized that he was examining every detail.
“Jack, is the photographer also a photo editor?”