Chapter 355: Tension Mounts
“About a year,” Pierre replied, feigning ease.
“It was Christmas. How about this year’s? How many days are left until Christmas?”
“Just over a week, Dad.”
“Good. Since you returned from Paris, I’ve only seen you once—at Emily and Rock’s engagement party. Have you even bothered to visit me since then?” Matthew’s words brimmed with paternal reproach, and Alison had to suppress the urge to laugh at the absurd civility of it.
Pierre was momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond.
“Dad, I—I’m just busy.”
“Busy with what?…” Matthew abruptly stopped mid-sentence, likely mindful of Alison’s presence.
The father and son continued their disjointed conversation.
About ten minutes later, the butler arrived to announce, “Dinner is ready.”
Pierre stood up and walked behind Alison.
He pushed her wheelchair toward the dining table and suggested,
“Dad, why don’t you stay the night?”
“We’ll discuss it after dinner,” Matthew responded calmly.
Though his tone was neutral, Alison sensed the faint chill of refusal beneath it.
She scanned the entire hall, noticing a dozen men standing by the entrance, their stares cold, their hands hovering close to their belts.
If she hadn’t been there, the two would have come to blows.
“Uncle Bruce, since you and Pierre haven’t seen each other in so long, why not stay the night? The estate feels so lonely. Outsiders can never compare to family.”
Alison emphasized the word family, testing the depth of their relationship.
“Yes, Dad. Stay tonight,” Pierre chimed in.
Who is the informer?
Who tipped off my dad?
Matthew stared intently at Alison’s back in her wheelchair.
If that letter surfaced, his grip on the underworld would crumble overnight.
No! I must take Alison away tonight—no matter what.
He nodded to the person behind him—Pierre’s men on the stairs saw it clearly.
Pierre’s phone vibrated immediately. He glanced down.
Pierre — the boss just gave the nod.
Pierre didn’t respond, merely smiling as he pushed Alison toward the dining table.
“Alison,” he said, “My dad probably won’t be at the villa tonight. Why not go back to the city with my father together?”
He said this deliberately to test Matthew’s reaction.
To his surprise, Matthew said,
“Pierre, that’s a good idea. I wonder if Miss Fairchild would agree?”
His response only strengthened her conviction that there was a deeper rift between father and son than either would admit.
With a smile, she remarked,
“Uncle Bruce, it’s getting late. The doctor said my foot isn’t ready for long journeys yet. I still need at least two or three days.”
Matthew’s expression darkened, but before he could respond, his phone rang.
Glancing at the number, he answered,
“Gabriel, what is it?”
“… “
“What? You’re coming over?”
“… “
“All right, I’ll wait for you at the estate.”
Matthew hung up.
Gabriel! Alison’s heart raced, her mind in turmoil.
“Alison, what are you thinking about?” Pierre asked calmly, sitting beside her.
“Huh… What?” she asked, blinking as clarity returned.
“That piece of meat has been hovering near your mouth for over ten seconds. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” he said, leaning in, his lips brushing dangerously close to her fork.
She shoved the meat into her mouth immediately.
“I like it,” she protested as she ate.
“It’s just a piece of meat. You’re being so stingy.” He pulled his face away, teasing her.
Matthew watched them with a sour expression.
This was his first time meeting Alison—Emily’s twin sister, indeed.
He casually picked up the wine glass in front of him and took a gentle sip.
Watching Matthew finish his glass, Pierre refilled both glasses.
Raising his glass, he addressed Matthew,
“Have a toast, Dad.”