Chapter 280: The Feeling of Nobility (Part 2)
Alison gently swirled the stemmed glass in her hand.
The orange-red liquid caught the light, glinting as she tipped it back and swallowed.
She hoped the drink might steady her hands and calm her heart.
Meanwhile, on the second-floor balustrade, Pierre leaned against the railing, eyes locked on her.
Beneath the grand chandelier, guests mingled beneath a haze of champagne and murmured laughter.
Rock and Emily’s engagement ceremony had gathered the YD Group, the Bruces, and half the city’s elite.
All the Winstons were present—except Cassandra.
Spotting Isabella from across the room, Alison walked toward her with Aidan.
“Aidan, whatever she says, don’t take it to heart,” he cautioned.
“I know,” Alison replied quietly.
She only wanted to greet her, but she worried Jack’s death had hardened Isabella’s heart; once, they had cried together.
“Aunt Isabella,” Alison said softly as she approached.
Isabella looked up. When she saw Alison’s arm linked through Aidan’s, her lips curled.
“Hmph. I knew you’d move on quickly.”
Then she turned and walked away, leaving Alison staring after her.
“Isabella, you—” Aidan started, but Alison stopped him.
“Have a drink with us,” she said, her smile brittle but warm enough to mask the sting.
She took his arm with one hand and caught two cocktails from a passing waiter with the other.
“Come on, don’t be upset.”
Her tone sounded casual, but the strain showed in her eyes.
Seeing the smile on her face, Aidan could only admire her quietly.
“Alison, you’re stronger than I ever imagined,” he murmured.
He lifted the glass and drained it in one swallow.
Alison followed suit, then led him toward Rock and Emily, who were surrounded by well-wishers.
“Aidan, let’s toast the happy couple,” she said.
“Let’s wait a bit. They’re busy right now,” he urged gently, hoping to give her a moment to breathe.
“Okay,” Alison said softly, her gaze sweeping through the glittering crowd.
She knew Jack wouldn’t be there—but part of her still searched for him.
The ache in her chest deepened, and the alcohol quickened her pulse, heat rising to her cheeks.
Then a murmur spread through the hall.
Alexander had arrived, leaning on his cane, with Rock’s mother, Stephanie, at his side.
Their presence stilled the room at once.
Aidan guided Alison forward.
The closer they got, the heavier the air felt.
“Grandpa. Aunt Stephanie,” Aidan greeted politely.
“Aidan, why isn’t your mother here?” Alexander asked.
“She wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed home,” Aidan said.
“She should see a doctor,” Stephanie replied curtly.
Neither of them even glanced at Alison.
Her arm stiffened against Aidan’s.
She couldn’t understand why everyone now treated her like a stranger.
“Thank you, Aunt Stephanie. My mom says she’s grateful for the medicine you sent from abroad—it’s helped her sleep better,” Aidan said, trying to ease the awkwardness.
“You’re welcome. We’re family,” Stephanie replied with a smile. Then she turned to Aidan.
“Aidan, come with me for a moment. I want to show you something.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see. Come,” she said, her eyes flicking meaningfully toward Alison.
Knowing what that meant, Alison released his wrist.
“Aidan, it’s fine. Go ahead,” she said softly.
“Stay right here, okay? Don’t wander off,” he told her, uneasy.
He started to follow Stephanie—then looked up and froze.
Pierre was watching from the balcony above, his gaze sharp, almost predatory.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.
Aidan quickly looked away but could read the message clearly: “touch her and you’ll regret it.”
Unaware of Pierre’s stare, Alison smiled faintly.
“Okay, Aidan. I’ll wait right here.”
Her calm expression soothed him.
Even Pierre found himself caught off guard by her quiet poise—her smile hit harder than any flirtation.
Then, a heavy hand clapped down on Pierre’s shoulder.
“Mr. Bruce,” said a rough voice. “How about that girl? The one I introduced you to—pretty stunning, huh? Looks a lot like tonight’s hostess, don’t you think? But she’s got more fire in her.”
Pierre smirked, glancing at Matthew’s right-hand man, Owen Mitchell.
“Yeah, not bad,” he said lazily. “I just hope she’s not boring when things get…real.”
Owen barked a laugh. “Don’t worry, Mr. Bruce. She won’t disappoint you tonight.”