Chapter 353: Anything You Need?
As Alison stared out the window at the cars, a voice echoed.
“Miss Fairchild, Mr. Bruce is attending to the guests. If you need anything, press the third red button on the bedside table.”
The voice crackled through the intercom — clearly one of Pierre’s precautions.
Ignoring it, her gaze stayed fixed outside.
The five cars stopped one after another, their doors opening.
Pierre had personally stepped outside the main gate to greet them.
Soon, a tall man with white hair appeared beside him, his features hidden behind wide-rimmed glasses, the glint of age giving him authority.
After watching the group enter the villa’s hall, she returned to the bedside.
After a moment’s thought, she pressed the red button.
The response came instantly.
“Miss Fairchild, how may I assist you?”
“I’d like to have dinner.” She forced herself to remain calm, determined to learn the purpose of the older man’s visit.
“Certainly, Miss Fairchild. What would you like?”
“Porridge, with sugar.”
“No problem. It will be delivered to your room in fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes — swift, yet endless. All she could do was wait.
Time clawed by.
Finally, a soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
A smiling maid entered carrying a tray and said,
“Miss Fairchild, your dinner is ready. If anything doesn’t suit your taste, just let me know, and I’ll have the kitchen replace it immediately.”
The aroma of the food only deepened her hunger.
“Leave it here,” she said.
The maid placed the tray down and withdrew.
The room fell silent again.
Alison sat down at the bedside table, picked up a spoon, and prepared to eat her porridge.
However, when she lifted the bowl, she discovered a small note tucked beneath it.
She excitedly picked it up.
[Say nothing.]
What did that mean?
Was it warning her to stay silent before Pierre? Or Matthew?
Could it be Gabriel’s handwriting?
She couldn’t be certain, though; she felt relief — she wasn’t fighting alone.
Edward came to her mind.
Was he one of Gabriel’s men?
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make sense of it.
It took her a long time to finish the congee. Her mind was so weighed down by thoughts that even breathing felt heavy.
She chose to trust the note.
She surmised that the older man’s visit was to see her.
She tore the note into pieces and swallowed it with her porridge.
Still, a chill crept up her spine — had the maid noticed?
The door knocked again.
“Come in,” she whispered.
Two neatly dressed men walked in, one of them pushing a wheelchair.
“Miss Fairchild, Mr. Matthew Bruce requests your presence in the hall.”
The man in front had already maneuvered the wheelchair to the bedside, ready to help her into it.
“Wait.” She snapped.
“Miss Fairchild?” the man asked.
Alison smiled faintly and replied calmly, “I’d like to change into something more formal.”
The man seemed taken aback by her request.
He picked up the phone, apparently seeking instructions from someone.
After a few whispered words, he hung up and said,
“Okay. We’ll have someone bring clothes immediately. Would you like assistance, Miss Fairchild?”
“No, thank you. I can manage on my own,” she objected.
“Then we’ll wait outside for you.” The man was very polite and quickly left the room.
About two minutes later, the maid who had delivered the meal earlier came in and laid out several outfits.
“Miss Fairchild, these are some outfits I found in the storage closet. They might not fit perfectly. Please forgive it.”
“Leave them here. You may go now.” She nodded.
After the maid left, Alison selected a light blue formal outfit.
Once dressed, she pressed the red button.
“You may come in now. Let’s go downstairs.”
Two men pushed the wheelchair back into the room.
Alison sat in it barefoot.
The men pushed the wheelchair into the hallway, where stairs led down to the lobby.
Looking up from the stairs, she saw an older man seated across from Pierre.
Beneath his thick brows, his eyes were sharp as a knife, the kind of gaze that could slice through bone.
Yet the web of wrinkles softening his face made that sharpness all the more unsettling.