Chapter 247: Quiet Slumber
Alison carefully searched Jack’s pockets until her fingers brushed cold metal — the safe key.
She whispered, “I’ll talk to you when I get back,” she whispered. “Just… stay here.”
She straightened, tucked the key into her palm, and hurried back toward Aidan’s office.
As she walked, she told the secretary, “I found Mr. Jack. Tell everyone to stop searching,” she instructed briskly.
The secretary’s eyes lit up at the news.
“Where is he now?” she asked curiously.
“No time. The client’s waiting — I have to get these to the reception room.” Alison’s tone was clipped.
She hurried to the conference room and knocked, still catching her breath.
“Come in,” came the reply from inside.
She entered quickly; the trade manager sat opposite Mr. John, YD’s most important guest of the day.
After greeting Mr. John, Alison walked over, sat beside the manager, and placed the documents on his lap.
The manager’s face broke into a smile upon seeing them.
Inside were the key documents: annual trade volumes, pricing breakdowns — everything vital for the deal.
“Young lady, what is your name?” Mr. John asked with a smile.
She smiled and replied, “I’m Alison Fairchild.”
“Alison…” Mr. John fell into deep thought. After a moment, he exclaimed, “I remember now, Miss Fairchild! I have indeed heard of you.”
Alison pointed at herself in surprise. “Me?”
“Of course.”
Meanwhile, the manager scanned the newly received documents.
“Where did you hear my name, Mr. John?” Alison asked lightly, though curiosity flickered behind her calm tone.
“A friend in France. Alison, care to guess?” John blinked and looked at her expectantly.
“France?” She furrowed her brow, thinking aloud. “Mr. Bates, perhaps?”
“Haha, exactly! Miss Fairchild’s memory and judgment are truly impressive. Mr. Bates said you’re a wonderful person with a distinctive personality. Though he only worked with you for a few days, you left a deep impression on him.”
“Mr. Bates flatters me,” Alison replied modestly. “I didn’t know you two were acquainted.”
“Haha, we just have some business dealings. I heard that YD is planning to open a branch office in Europe. Your German is fluent. Have you considered pursuing opportunities abroad?”
“Well, I haven’t really thought about it yet.”
“By the way, how is your president’s condition now?”
“He’s out of danger and recovering steadily. I expect he’ll be discharged in just over a week.”
“That’s wonderful. I’ll visit him soon. When I do, I’ll need Miss Fairchild to be my guide.”
“Certainly.” Alison agreed with a smile.
Inside, her thoughts kept drifting back to Jack.
Is he still asleep? Why did he drink that much?
Something had to be eating at him — he’d never drink like that without a reason.
The meeting concluded quickly in a pleasant atmosphere.
Alison and the manager personally escorted Mr. John out to his car.
Having finally completed Aidan’s task, Alison sighed in relief.
“You handled that beautifully, Alison. Where’s Mr. Jack now?” the manager asked once John’s car pulled away.
“He’s fine, just a little under the weather. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading out,” she said.
“Ok, Miss Fairchild. Go ahead.” The manager looked at Alison with a hint of inquiry in his eyes.
She caught the questioning look — her situation was complicated. Jack’s wife, yet at Aidan’s side. People would never understand.
As she rode up in Aidan’s private elevator, the memory of Jack’s scent — sharp with alcohol — lingered in her mind.
Why was he drinking like that? The thought wouldn’t leave her alone.
When the elevator doors opened, she ran for the rooftop stairs without hesitation.
The familiar grapevine arbor came into view.
She knelt beside him, hesitant to wake him, and gently took his hand.
She sat quietly, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm. It had been days since they last saw each other — always in passing, always rushed.
Watching his face in sleep, her anger melted into something softer — a quiet longing just to see his eyes open again.
Suddenly, a breeze swept through, rustling the grapevine trellis.
A cluster of grapes brushed against her forehead.
She reached up, plucked one, and bit into it absently. The sweetness grounded her.
But before she could swallow, Jack suddenly stirred — his voice rough, broken. “Emily!”
Emily? The name hit her like a slap.
Her fingers went slack. The grape turned bitter on her tongue.
She drew back a step, shaking her head. No… I don’t want to hear this.
“Emily, don’t go!” Jack cried out, hands reaching blindly into the air.
Alison turned to leave, but suddenly his arm shot out, dragging her hard against his chest.
Their heartbeats collided — wild, uneven, desperate.
His arms locked around her waist, holding her as though he’d die if he let go.