Chapter 288: Hard to Bring Up (Part 1)
“No way! Pierre!” Alison snapped.
“But I’d love to,” Pierre countered, his hand shooting out, twisting her wrist until she winced.
“You’re not my match. Want to try it?”
The threat in his tone was unmistakable.
“There are no photos!” Alison blurted, instantly wishing she hadn’t said it.
“I don’t buy it. The way you panicked just now shows that those photos mean a lot to you. But mine matter more.” Pierre’s voice rose, each word edged with mockery, leaving her reeling.
Just as she glared at him angrily, he pulled her toward him.
“Alison, don’t you remember anything that happened in the garden last night?”
“What?” Alison asked, her voice shaking.
Pierre gripped her fiercely, dragging her hard against his chest.
“I want you to make love to me.”
Pain bit through her lip, but her gaze didn’t waver.
Suddenly, the door burst open.
“Alison, I’m back,” Aidan said.
He’d seen the helicopter the second he left the car.
He wasn’t sure he could take Pierre—but he’d die trying.
The image of Pierre near Alison made his vision blur with rage.
A flicker of unease shot through him—Lucia’s voice from last night still echoed, mocking.
Aidan lunged forward, shouting, “Pierre, let go of my wife!”
“Wife? Is she really your wife?” Pierre shot him a dismissive glance and continued,
“I don’t buy it. I remember her writing ‘Jack, I miss you’ in the snow in Paris.”
He turned to Alison. “Alison, isn’t that right?”
Alison’s face flushed.
She replied in a low voice, “Pierre, I’ve been married twice. My first husband’s name was Jack, but he… he’s gone now.”
Her words trembled with real sorrow.
“That day in the snow, I was remembering my late husband. Aidan, I’m sorry.”
“Oh? You’ve been married twice? Why not get divorced again? Adding me to the list wouldn’t be such a big deal, would it?” Pierre grinned.
“No way!” she snapped back angrily.
She hated his shameless grin, but Pierre never played by rules.
He turned to Aidan. “Aidan, how about lending me your woman for a few days?”
“No way!” Aidan retorted, and swung before the words were even out.
Pierre deftly dodged the punch with ease and sneered,
“Fine, Aidan. If the video of your wife having sex with others is exposed, it’ll be too late to change your mind. After all, I won’t be the only man who’s seen her body.”
Aidan’s raised fist froze mid-air as the words hit him. What had Alison gone through last night?
His stunned expression made Alison’s heart skip a beat.
“Aidan, who was that man last night?”
They spoke past each other—she meant the stranger; he thought she meant Pierre.
With Pierre present, neither could bring themselves to speak.
“Alison, I…” Aidan stammered.
Pierre smirked, his trap working perfectly—there was no video, but both had taken the bait.
He slowly released her wrist and collar, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
“Since Miss Fairchild won’t give me an answer, fine. I’ll send the video first, then post it online.”
“Wait…” Alison’s heart dropped as she watched Pierre turn to make the call.
Aidan’s fluster only deepened her despair.