Chapter 215: The Feeling of Panic
“Couldn’t you just stay here for a while? Aimée…” Isabella said.
Jack cut her off. “Mom, don’t stage this whole suicide act again. You don’t really want to die, do you?!”
Then, he stepped out of the ward and headed toward the elevator bank. One arrived quickly.
As the doors opened and he was about to step in, Aidan called out, “Jack!”
“Aidan, why are you here?” Jack was surprised.
“Oh, I was just passing by and decided to visit Aimée. After all, she is our friend. Jack, we can’t just stand by and watch her kill herself. Spend some time talking to her.” Aidan patted Jack on the shoulder and sighed.
Jack gave a faint smile. “Aidan, do you know why my mother cut herself?”
“Why?” Aidan asked, puzzled.
“It was Sylvia who begged my mother to do it, just to force me to marry Aimée,” Jack said.
Then he stepped into another elevator.
As he left the hospital, he breathed easier.
He drove toward home, glancing at his watch — Sophia and Ethan must be asleep by now, and Alison had probably left for Rebel.
Suddenly, he felt an urge to visit Rebel. Though he’d never been there himself, he knew its location—the people he sent there always reported back to him.
He planned to sneak in, listen to her sing, and then wait for her outside.
As he passed a boutique, he got out to change into the plainest T-shirt and pulled on a hat.
From a distance, he spotted the large letters spelling out Rebel.
To avoid drawing attention, he didn’t park in the lot. Instead, he parked farther away and walked toward the club.
Just a dozen meters from the entrance, a hooker approached him. “Sir, interested in a massage?”
He ignored her and walked straight past.
Frustrated, she grabbed his arm. “I’m good with my mouth, baby.”
Jack pulled his hat brim down, shook off her hand, and strode toward the entrance of Rebel.
“Sir… sir…” the woman called after him.
But after taking just two steps, Jack was blocked by two muscular men. The one in front confronted him. “Buddy! Were you molesting my wife?”
Jack laughed. That woman wasn’t worth his time.
He wanted to fight back, but he held still — he couldn’t alert the bouncers inside.
Casually, he pulled a stack of cash from his pocket. Feeling generous, he flicked his wrist and tossed over five hundred-dollar bills.
The man’s eyes lit up. He took the money, bowing and scraping as he said, “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome.” Jack pumped his fist at the man and growled, “Next time, try my fists.”
Then he turned toward the door of Rebel.
The place was bustling and packed with people. He found a corner and sat down.
“Sir, would you like a cocktail or a whiskey?”
“Whiskey.”
“Right away, sir.” The waiter went to fetch the drink.
Jack lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
Soon, a whiskey glass appeared before him.
Long after, Alison stepped onto the stage. His gaze locked onto her — elegant and beautiful.
The music began to play, and Alison’s voice flowed out with the familiar melody.
Her voice was pure and crystalline, like heavenly music. It made the noisy Rebel feel serene.
Just as Jack sank into it, a figure suddenly blocked his view.