Chapter 246: Not Mine
“Hurry up!” Aidan urged, his tone tight with impatience.
Alison bolted from the hospital, flagged down a taxi, and sped toward YD Tower.
Before the cab even pulled away, she switched off her phone—she couldn’t risk Aidan calling her back.
“Driver, please—faster. Thank you. It’s urgent.”
“I’ll try my best,” the driver said with a grin. “You work for YD, miss?”
“Oh, yes.”
“So… are you the third Winston son’s girlfriend?” he added casually.
“Ah—” Alison froze, heat creeping up her neck. The question stung, rude and presumptive.
“That’s my personal business,” she said sharply.
“No offense, miss, but you’re on today’s magazine cover. You and the third Winston son—everyone’s talking.”
“Stop the car!” Alison burst out. She hated those tabloids — their cheap gossip made her skin crawl.
“Sorry, miss, won’t happen again.” The driver fell quiet.
Alison exhaled, letting it go. There was no time for this.
When the taxi stopped, she leapt out and sprinted straight into YD Tower.
“Ms. Fairchild, the executive elevator’s ready for you,” the receptionist called.
Whispers rippled through the lobby — Jack, Aidan, rumors, scandal. She ignored them all.
Ignoring the gossip, she walked into the elevator.
She unlocked her phone again, hesitating.
Seeing no missed calls from Aidan, she sighed in relief.
Just as the doors began to close, a group of foreign guests hurried forward.
“Miss, can we take this elevator to the reception room?” one asked in German.
Alison smiled and answered in fluent German, “Of course. Please, come in.”
Her simple courtesy surprised the guests.
One guest turned to the trade manager, astonished. “Is she really just an employee? Her German is excellent.”
The trade manager hesitated over how to respond.
Everyone in the company knew she had been dismissed — yet rumors tied her to both the president and Jack, leaving colleagues whispering.
Noticing the manager’s hesitation, Alison smiled and said, “Yes, I’m just an ordinary assistant here.”
“It seems YD truly has hidden talents,” the guest remarked admiringly.
“You flatter me, sir,” Alison replied.
“I love Canada, but I think I love her more,” the guest teased lightly, glancing at the manager. “Can this young assistant join us?”
“I’d be honoured,” Alison replied politely, “but I have an urgent matter first. Please head to the conference room — I’ll join you shortly.”
She had already realised — this must be the client Aidan mentioned.
“Understood. See you shortly.”
Alison hurried upstairs. At Aidan’s office, only his secretary was there.
“Where’s Jack?” she asked.
“We still can’t find him. We’ve searched the entire building,” the secretary replied.
“Come on, the client’s already here!” Alison snapped.
“Yes, it’s so frustrating,” the secretary echoed, equally anxious.
“Could the documents be anywhere else? Did Jack leave the key in his office?” Alison pressed.
“No, I’ve already checked. The president had me search,” the secretary answered.
“Got it. I’ll go find him myself,” Alison said, deciding to take matters into her own hands.
She paused at the door, thinking. Where would Jack go if he didn’t want to be found?
Maybe the stairwell — their usual escape route when things got tense.
“Quickly! Get someone to search every stairwell — don’t skip a floor,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” the secretary replied promptly.
Alison waited anxiously by the door, pacing back and forth.
“No.”
“Not here.”
Reports came back from each floor in succession.
Alison’s pulse hammered. Her stomach tightened with fear.
Jack, where on earth are you?
Then she looked up — the rooftop terrace. Jack had taken her there before.
She bolted for the stairs, taking them two at a time.
He has to be there! she thought.
She shoved the door open; the wind hit her face in a sharp rush.
The rooftop looked the same — peaceful, almost mockingly so.
She hurried toward the reflecting pool beneath the grapevine trellis, eyes scanning the shadows.
Then she froze.
Beneath the vines, a man lay slumped in the shade.
She knelt, fingers trembling as they brushed his cheek. Warm — it was Jack.
The sweet grape scent mixed with the sharp sting of alcohol.
Beside him lay an empty bottle of white wine. He’d finished it all — then passed out alone beneath the vines.