Chapter 289: Hard to Bring Up (Part 2)
“Did you change your mind, Alison?” Pierre asked, his eyes glinting with a desperate kind of hunger — the thought that she might somehow restore his pride, his power.
“Pierre, you bastard!” Aidan seethed, rage burning through him, helpless against the threat of that so-called video.
“Fine. I only want to know if you agree or not, Alison.” Pierre spoke coolly, as if the entire Winston family were beneath his concern.
Alison pressed her lips together, the colour draining from them until only a thin, pale line remained.
Pierre swallowed hard at the sight. Even in defiance, she entranced him.
Alison spoke calmly. “Pierre, give me one day. I’ll give you my answer after that. If I refuse, you can release those videos as you please.”
“No way! I don’t have that much patience.” Pierre was uneasy — if she discovered there was never a video, he’d lose all leverage.
“Give me one night to think it over.” Her voice barely steady, she turned for the door.
Pierre frowned slightly, calculating — one night wouldn’t matter, and she couldn’t do much anyway.
“Fine. It’s settled. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be waiting on this balcony for you.” He pointed at the balcony, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
Relief swept through her chest, fragile but real.
After Pierre left, only Aidan and she remained in the room.
Seeing Aidan’s awkward expression, Alison suddenly grew angry.
Why wouldn’t he meet her eyes? What was he hiding?
She turned and walked to the door, the slam echoing like a gunshot behind her.
Clutching her coat, phone, and wallet, she dashed out.
Then, she hailed a cab and headed straight for Rebel.
She needed a drink—something to drown the chaos twisting inside her.
As the night deepened, a chilling cold lingered, cutting straight through her.
Aidan slumped weakly against the wall, torn between following her and staring at the empty room.
He had no idea what to do—only that jealousy burned where logic should be.
He sank to his knees, the imagined images already torturing him — Alison’s body, Pierre’s hands — every thought poisoned.
In that moment, jealousy consumed him.
He slammed his fist into the patterned carpet.
The dull thud echoed through the empty suite — yet it hurt like bone splintering.
The taxi sped along the road she knew so well.
She rolled down the window and let the wind lash against her face.
Her mind spun. How do I deal with Pierre?
Was the man who had taken her really Aidan?
Had she ever been with anyone besides Jack?
As those thoughts tangled in her mind, tears spilled freely.
The mist in her eyes made the neon outside blur like a dream.
Suddenly, the car stopped. “Miss, we’re here.”
The driver’s voice snapped her back to the present.
She got out.
The click-clack of her heels echoed across the marble floor; her heartbeat matched their rhythm.
This place had once changed everything for her.
No one stopped her — Rebel had always welcomed women without question.
The doorman was new; even his face was unfamiliar.
It seemed the club had been turned upside down in her absence.
Stepping inside, she hummed softly along with the pounding music.
The sound eased the tension coiled inside her.
She found a corner booth and waved to a waiter.
The waiter too was someone she’d never seen before.
She frowned slightly. “Bring me a bottle of ’95 red wine.
If Liam’s here, tell him I’d like to have a drink with him.”
The waiter replied, “I’m sorry, ma’am. Liam won’t be here tonight.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Are you and Liam close?” the waiter asked curiously.
“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?” she replied with a light smile.
“Nothing. It’s just… he’s been in the hospital for a week. You didn’t know?” The waiter looked puzzled.
She smiled faintly. “I’ve been abroad for three months and just got back. I thought I’d stop by for a drink, but it looks like things have really changed — I don’t see a single familiar face.”
“So that explains it. The owner’s changed. Liam hasn’t been involved with this place for quite some time,” the waiter clarified.