Chapter 3 Betrayed By Her Own Mother

Alison tilted her head back as she exhaled a long, weary sigh. The thought that her own mother would go to such devious lengths against her felt like a slap in the face.

"Why haven't you been answering my calls?" As soon as the call connected, Amy's voice cut through the quiet like a knife, her tone sharp and accusatory.

Alison hesitated, just long enough for a hint of tension to settle between them. When she finally spoke, her voice was laced with a biting chill. "Are you calling to find out if I ended up in Nicholas' bed last night?"

The memory of last night played vividly in Alison's mind. She had been at a banquet, representing the law firm she worked for while entertaining a significant client.

The evening was drawing to a close when she stumbled upon Amy, who feigned affection and handed her a glass of orange juice, claiming it would help her sober up.

But after a few sips, Alison felt an unnatural heat coursing through her body, a feverish flush that warned her of what was to come.

What followed was all too predictable, like a scene straight out of a TV drama.

Amy, however, showed no hint of embarrassment at being caught. Instead, she cleared her throat with a fake cough. "Nicholas is back to finalize the divorce. As your mother, I have to look out for you."

"Too bad your plan failed. Nicholas isn't interested in me. He tossed me out without a second thought." Alison's lips curled into a mocking smile, her words dripping with sarcasm.

There was no way Alison would let her scheming mother know the full truth, since she had no idea what Amy might do next.

"Impossible..." Amy's voice faltered, disbelief seeping through her words.

Alison cut her off, her tone sharp and unwavering. "You offered me up like some sort of sacrifice!"

"Alison, Isaac's company hasn't been doing well lately." Amy's voice softened, taking on a pleading edge as she mentioned her husband, Isaac Powell. "Can't you help us out here? Nicholas is an outstanding man. Women from prestigious families would give anything to marry him. I'm doing this not just for myself, but for you as well."

"For me?" Alison nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. "I thought marrying Nicholas two years ago already settled my father's debt to Isaac."

When Alison was fifteen, her father passed away, and her mother remarried Isaac soon after. Later, when Isaac's business met financial troubles, the Bowman family ended up being roped in to save him. Geoffrey had only agreed to help if an old marriage arrangement between their families was fulfilled.

And so, Alison had become their bargaining chip, a pawn trapped in a loveless marriage for two agonizing years. She thought she had repaid every last bit of their debt.

Amy's voice wavered as she pleaded, "If Isaac falls on hard times, what will become of me and Samuel? Aren't you worried about us?"

Alison's thoughts drifted back to the time after her father's death. Amy had remarried Isaac in less than a month, and within seven months, Samuel Powell had been born.

The timeline was clear enough-Amy had likely been unfaithful when Alison's father had still been alive. But Alison didn't care to dwell on that any longer.

"Where's the divorce agreement?" she asked in a flat, detached tone.

"You..." Amy's voice trembled with barely restrained fury. "Come home for dinner this weekend, and I'll hand it over then."

Alison's expression hardened, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you really think you can dangle that agreement in front of me like a carrot and expect me to play along?"

"If you don't show up, you'll never get your hands on it!" Without waiting for a reply, Amy hung up, leaving the line dead.

Alison sighed, rubbing her aching temples.

She had assumed the divorce would move along without any hitches, but she had underestimated just how low Amy would stoop to keep her on a leash.

She needed a plan to get the divorce agreement back.

Alison stood by the roadside outside the hotel to hail a taxi, ready to head home.

As she stood there, a familiar figure caught her eye. Emerging from the hotel's entrance was Damien Harding-a client from the law firm, notorious for his sleazy advances.

Seeing him approach, Alison steeled herself, forcing a polite smile. "Mr. Harding, what a coincidence."

Damien, the heir to Harding Group, had pestered Alison relentlessly in the past, though his interest in her far from welcome.

"What brings you to a hotel so early in the morning?" Damien sauntered over, his gaze lingering on her breasts for a little too long.

"Just handling some business," Alison replied, keeping her tone light.

"Who're you trying to fool? Look at those hickeys on your neck! So, you keep rejecting me because you've been busy fooling around with someone else, huh?" His gaze sharpened, zeroing in on the faint red marks on her skin.

Alison's smile didn't waver. "Mr. Harding, as it happens, I'm married. Surely it's not a crime to enjoy a date with my husband?"

Damien's sneer deepened, skepticism etched on his face. "Married? Who would believe that? Where is this supposed husband of yours? Why don't you introduce us?"

Thinking quickly, Alison pointed to a sleek Rolls-Royce parked nearby.

"That's his car," she said smoothly, before striding confidently towards it. Damien followed closely, suspicion darkening his eyes.

As they approached, they noticed a man about to get in-Nicholas.