Chapter 3 I'm Married

Alison lifted her head and let out a weary sigh, her eyes drifting shut as the weight of the betrayal settled on her shoulders. She never imagined her own family would do such a thing to her.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?" As soon as the call connected, Amy's voice cut through the silence, sharp and accusing.

Alison's eyes flickered open into narrow slits, her expression icy. "Were you calling to confirm if I'd slept with Nicholas?"

Last night, Alison had attended a lavish banquet at the hotel, mingling with an important client from her law firm.

As the event wound down, she ran into her mother, Amy, who feigned affection and handed her a glass of orange juice, claiming it would help her sober up.

But instead of feeling refreshed, a fiery heat began to course through Alison's veins as soon as she took a sip.

Amy then handed her a room key, urging her to rest upstairs. Trusting her mother's words, Alison stumbled to the room, only to find a man waiting inside. Overwhelmed by the drug's effects, she had no control as she threw herself at him, consumed by unbridled desire.

Amy, unfazed by Alison's accusation, cleared her throat and said calmly, "Nicholas came back just to divorce you. As your mother, it's my duty to plan for your future."

"Sadly, your so-called plan is futile. Nicholas isn't into me. He threw me out the moment I tried to touch him." A mocking smile played on Alison's lips as she spoke.

She would never let her mother know the truth-after all, there was no telling what Amy might do next.

"That can't be..." Amy's disbelief was palpable, confusion laced in her voice.

After a brief pause, she switched tactics and mentioned her husband, Isaac Powell. "Alison, Isaac's company is struggling. Can't you give us a hand? Nicholas is a catch, and countless girls would die to marry him. I'm doing this for your future!"

"For my future, or yours?" Alison laughed incredulously. "I hope you don't end up going back on your words. Mrs. Powell, I thought marrying Nicholas two years ago already settled my father's debt to Mr. Powell."

The implication was clear-she owed them nothing.

Amy's face drained of color. "But what about Isaac? What about Samuel and me? Aren't you worried about us at all?"

It struck Alison suddenly-Amy had married Isaac right after Alison's father passed away, and Samuel was born only seven months later.

Alison still vividly remembered Amy justifying the hasty marriage by claiming she had no better options, and Isaac had kindly stepped in to take care of her.

Yet, something didn't sit right with Alison. She couldn't shake the feeling that the timeline was suspiciously tight, but she chose not to dig deeper.

"Where is the divorce agreement?" Alison suddenly asked, her thoughts jolted back to the present.

"Why, you little-" Amy's anger flared at Alison's stubborn determination. Her voice dropped to a low, stern tone. "I'll give it to you when you come for dinner this weekend."

Alison's expression turned icy, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you really think you can manipulate me, dangling the divorce agreement in front of me like bait?"

She didn't expect that the divorce agreement would be sent to the Powell family, but then again, it made sense since her marriage to Nicholas had been as a Powell.

Alison had just assumed the divorce would proceed smoothly, but she had underestimated Amy's cunning.

As these thoughts whirled around in her mind, her temples throbbed, and her stomach still ached, so she abruptly ended the call.

Realizing her car was still in for repairs, she booked a taxi.

While she was waiting, a particularly difficult client from her law firm, Damien Harding, emerged from the hotel, to her dismay.

"Mr. Harding, what a coincidence!" Alison forced a polite smile.

Damien, heir to Harding Group, had been relentlessly pursuing her despite her best efforts to avoid him.

"Who did you make out with so early in the morning?" Damien narrowed his eyes into slits, his sharp eyes immediately landing the telling red marks on Alison's neck.

"I asked you out on a date, but you refused; now, you're at a hotel with someone else?" Damien's impatience was palpable. A mere word from him, and his bodyguards would whisk Alison away.

Alison straightened her back and said calmly, "Mr. Harding, I'm married. I'm here with my husband. He just went to fetch the car..." As she was lying through her teeth, a Rolls-Royce pulled into the hotel driveway.