Chapter 82 Connected with Emily's Woman
It felt like a sudden accident.
Or maybe just a coincidental collision.
But the waiter was sticking to his story, no matter what.
Alison felt helpless. She couldn't connect the waiter to the events of the past. No one knew she was aware of that history. And not only did she know, she had lived through it, even being one of the victims.
Mr. Bates apologized to her, and she smiled back, assuring him of YD's credibility. After all, business required such trust to be mutually beneficial.
As they left the club, Mr. Bates offered to take her back to the hotel, but she declined. She glanced back at the four people, not wanting to accompany any of them.
It wasn't that she didn't trust them, but she couldn't trust anyone anymore. She knew the waiter was just a scapegoat.
The real mastermind was hidden too deeply, and she could never uncover the truth.
"Miss Fairchild, take my car or Jack's. Look, your leg is injured, you need to apply some medicine quickly, or it will get infected."
"Thanks." She turned away, saying nothing more, just wanting to leave alone. That night, the new pain didn't even give her time to cry.
As she walked, she called her kids. She had promised them she would call every day. She didn't want them to worry, but because of the time difference, she knew she had woken them up again.
"Mommy, come back soon, I miss you."
"Mommy, remember to take lots of pictures, I want to see them..."
She agreed to everything, missing Sophia and Ethan terribly.
Behind her, a white Lamborghini followed slowly.
Because of the incident, Mr. Bates had lost all interest and went back on his own. Cherry was taken back by Aimée, leaving Jack alone. Thinking about his previous excessive actions and distrust towards Alison, he felt deeply ashamed.
In the darkness, the woman in front of his car not only touched his heart with her beauty but also with her intelligence and quick reactions, making his heart unknowingly flutter for her.
He was one hundred percent sure she was not Emily.
But who was she? Why did he feel an inexplicable connection to her?
Alison walked awkwardly. She could have hailed a cab when she left the club, but she missed several while talking to her kids. Now, when she wanted to hail one, none came by.
She walked unsteadily, looking like a drunken woman, appearing particularly disheveled on the streets of Paris.
As she passed a public phone booth, a man suddenly rushed out and grabbed her. "Hey beautiful, how much for a night?"
He had mistaken her for that kind of woman. She pushed him away and ran quickly, but the drunken man pursued her relentlessly, shouting, "Why so shy? It's not your first time."
She smiled bitterly, looking at her outfit. Did she really look like that?
So ugly, so disheveled.
She kicked off her high heels and ran barefoot, her mind flashing back to the time Jack had thrown her out of the apartment, and she was attacked on the street. She had been injured, and he had visited her in the hospital, tending to her wounds with such tenderness...
Tears streamed down her face as she ran, realizing she could never forget him.
Behind her, the Lamborghini stopped, and she heard screams. Alison turned to see Jack dusting off his hands, giving the man who had chased her another hard kick.
Such drunks and scum deserved a few more kicks.
She stared blankly as Jack finished dealing with the man and walked towards her. She hadn't expected him to follow her all this time.
He approached her, his gaze gentle, no longer as out of control as when he had dragged her back to the club.
His gentleness was like a temptation, making her unable to look away. Despite the harm he had caused her, despite his cruelty, she couldn't bring herself to hate him.
"I'm sorry." His deep, melodious voice was so alluring, bringing even greater temptation. She could even hear her own heartbeat.
"Please... don't associate me with that woman named Emily anymore, and don't look at me with the same prejudiced eyes. I'm not her, I never will be." She spoke her heart, word by word, then turned to leave.
She turned too quickly, almost falling. Jack reacted swiftly, stepping forward to steady her. "I'm sorry, I might have lost control a bit." Thinking of Emily always made him lose his composure.
He held her arm tightly, too strong for her to break free. "Let go of me," she struggled, "I'm Aidan's woman, don't touch me, or I'll tell Aidan." She mentioned Aidan's name naturally, as if they had a close relationship, but in reality, she had no memory of it.
"I don't care if you're Aidan's woman," Jack's tone held a hint of displeasure, "Right now, you need to get in the car, and I'll take you back to the hotel. You can find him after you get back." He didn't like hearing her say she was Aidan's woman, even though he had caused it, he just didn't like it.
It seemed reasonable, but Jack felt something was off, everything seemed so unnatural.
"I can get a cab myself, I have hands and feet, I really don't need your care."
"Alison, if I hadn't gone to Germany to rescue you, you might still be in that dark room. Can't you think about the good I've done for you?" His voice carried a hint of pleading, softening her heart. Yes, sometimes he was really good to her. If he hadn't searched for three days and nights, she might not even have her own chest.
She smiled slightly, remembering these things made it impossible to hate him. But she was also a person, a person with flesh and blood.