Chapter 68 Going Along with the Mistake
But just then, Alison suddenly let out a scream, like she was having a nightmare. Aimée was so startled she froze, her face going pale, and she thought about bolting.
Jack's gentle voice cut through the tension: "Shh, it's okay." Aimée's heart pounded. Jack, still half-asleep, gently pulled Alison into his arms, and Alison, surprisingly, nestled quietly against him.
This scene made Aimée's face flush with anger. But she didn't dare move, afraid of waking them both. If they woke up and discovered last night's "misunderstanding," Aimée would be completely defeated.
She waited, time dragging on. Her eyes were fixed on Alison, though she couldn't see her face clearly, the image of her from the day was etched deeply in her mind. Isabella didn't seem to like Alison much, which gave Aimée some confidence, knowing she had a backup plan.
Soon, both Alison and Jack were sound asleep. Aimée's legs were numb from standing, but she finally saw Alison roll away from Jack's embrace. This was her chance; she had to act quickly.
Summoning strength from who knows where, she picked up Alison. The usually pampered young lady managed to place Alison into a wheelchair. Alison woke up startled, about to scream, but Aimée quickly covered her mouth, whispering softly, "It's still dark, go back to sleep." Her voice was gentle, but her forehead was covered in sweat, terrified that Alison or Jack might wake up and ruin her plan.
Alison gradually calmed down, leaning back in the wheelchair and falling back into a deep sleep, as if it were all a dream. Aimée, after confirming that both Jack in the bed and Alison in the wheelchair were still, wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Steadying herself, she swiftly wheeled Alison to the next room, Aidan's. Placing Alison beside Aidan, she watched as Aidan instinctively wrapped his arm around Alison. Aimée finally breathed a sigh of relief.
At that moment, Aimée understood why thieves often succeeded at night. People in deep sleep were oblivious to their surroundings, explaining why many only discovered a burglary in the morning, long after the thief had vanished.
She had succeeded, using the deep sleep of the three to silently complete her plan. Returning the wheelchair to its place, locking Aidan's door, Aimée returned to Alison's room with a victorious smile, lying down next to Jack. She bit her finger, letting drops of blood fall onto Jack, her eyes gleaming with cunning. "Jack, now you can't escape," she thought.
She slept peacefully beside Jack, eagerly anticipating the shocked expressions of the other three in the morning. Of course, she would feign surprise too, but it would be just an act, a carefully prepared performance.
She had won.
...
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, Alison stirred, feeling as if her whole body was in pain. She wondered if she was still on the plane, the feeling of motion sickness lingering, her head aching slightly.
Rubbing her eyes, she slowly opened them, taking in the room around her. It seemed no different from the night before, but when her gaze fell on the person beside her, she screamed in terror, "Aidan, you...?" Why was Aidan in her bed?
Her scream woke Aidan.
Aimée's plan seemed to have worked, as Alison was now frantically clutching the sheets, trying to cover her naked body. Aidan, confused by her reaction, vaguely remembered her being the one to initiate things last night.
"Alison, are you awake?" Aidan asked, his tone tinged with confusion.
Alison, panicking, pointed to the door, "You... you need to leave." She thought this was her room.
Aidan, wanting to comfort her, moved closer. Seeing her frightened expression, he felt a pang of sympathy. "Alison, what's wrong? Why are you so scared of me?"
Alison stammered, "Why... why are you in my bed?" She was terrified by the unexpected intimacy with Aidan.
The disarray of the bed and the pain in her body made Alison realize that last night was not a dream.
Aidan, misunderstanding her reaction, thought she was after his money, losing all respect for her, thinking she was just like those women who only cared about wealth.
"What are you talking about? This is my room!" Alison was even more confused.
"That's right, last night you called me, saying you had a nightmare and ran over here. Look, both our phones are here, the call logs can prove it." Aidan pointed to the phones on the table, sounding a bit impatient. But Alison looked bewildered, unable to remember anything from last night.
Clutching the sheet, Alison rushed to the bedside table, grabbing her phone and quickly checking the call log. The first number was Aidan's, the call made at 2 AM.
Oh my God, she really had initiated it.
Alison frowned, trying to recall, but her memory was like a blurry dream, only remembering being close to a man.
Why Aidan? She didn't want any entanglement with him.
At that moment, she froze, staring blankly at the number on her phone, completely at a loss.
She slowly sat on the carpet by the bed, hugging her knees, saying nothing, just staring at her toes, her empty gaze confusing Aidan, making him think he had wronged her, that she really didn't remember last night.
Her expression was so genuine, not like she was faking it.
Aidan, recalling the events of last night, suddenly remembered the resistance he felt when he was with her. If she was a virgin, what was there to complain about?
His eyes fell on the bed sheet where Alison had been sitting, a dried red stain visible. And now, tears silently streamed down the woman's face.
Alison was crying silently, making Aidan feel both heartache and pity.
She had never felt so helpless, so in need of a good cry.
Tears fell, wetting her cheeks and the bed sheet.
Aidan thought she was mourning the loss of her precious first time. Men and women alike, he realized, had a certain attachment to their firsts.