Chapter 342: Romantic Nightfall (Part 1)
“Once I finish what I’m working on, I’ll cut ties with the Polar Bear Alliance,” Gabriel promised.
“Then don’t go to Rebel either, all right?” Alison added softly.
“All right, I’ll listen to you,” he said with a smile, his deep blue eyes soft with affection.
She lowered her head, feeling her pulse race again.
Then a towel dropped over her shoulders, startling her.
She looked up in surprise.
“Next time, wear something less revealing. I don’t like others staring at you,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Haha, Gabriel, are you jealous?” she teased.
“So what if I am?” he shot back. “Stay away from Aidan. I’ll drive you myself—otherwise I’ll throw you straight into the deep end right now.” His tone was half-playful, half-warning.
“Gabriel, will you always stay with me?” she asked softly.
“Of course.”
“And my kids?” she pressed.
“Them too,” he said simply.
Just a few simple words, yet they carried the weight of a vow.
“Come on—let’s get back in,” he said, pulling her to her feet.
The towel slipped from her shoulders, baring her smooth skin and long legs.
She grew used to the water’s cool touch—and to the occasional brush of Gabriel’s hand against her skin.
When they returned home, Alison hurried into the living room. “Nanny—”
“Ma’am, I’m here,” the nanny answered.
“Please watch Sophia and Ethan for me. I need to run out for a bit,” she said quickly.
“Yes, ma’am,” the nanny replied.
Alison dashed out the door, determined to catch Gabriel before he disappeared.
She hailed a cab toward the YD building—he’d once mentioned his apartment was nearby.
Inside the cab, she scanned the street until she spotted a black motorcycle ahead—Gabriel’s. He was talking on his phone, slowing down slightly.
When he finally stopped, she confirmed the address—it was his place.
He entered the elevator. She followed, discreetly noting the floor number before stepping back.
Instead of going up, she turned away and headed for the same styling centre Aidan had once brought her to.
“Are you sure about cutting it short?” the stylist asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Alison said firmly.
“What about these black sunglasses?” the stylist offered next.
“Not bad.” She slipped them on.
In the mirror, a stranger stared back—short hair, bold makeup, oversized earrings, tight black jeans, and a loose T-shirt.
She smiled, thrilled by the transformation.
After paying, she tucked her new wallet into her bag and left.
Night had fallen quietly; neon lights pulsed across the streets.
Alison returned to Gabriel’s neighbourhood, intent on finding proof that he was really Jack.
Though hunger gnawed at her, she kept her eyes fixed on his building, afraid to blink and miss him.
At last, he emerged—alone—strolling down the sidewalk with unhurried steps.
She paid the cab and slipped out, hurrying after him.
A cool breeze brushed her bare arms as she followed at a cautious distance.
They reached a bustling night market, its stalls glittering with trinkets that lured every passerby.
He drifted between stalls, stopping now and then to ask a price.
He eventually picked up an electric razor and began haggling with a vendor—lingering longer than usual, fuelling Alison’s unease.
Her gaze shifted to the vendor, something prickling at her memory.
Then a man struck a lighter, the brief flare of flame cutting through the dark.
The spark was fleeting, but Alison froze—the vendor looked familiar.
Who is he?