Chapter 31

-Alison-

Jared's behavior had been perplexing. Briefly, I entertained the notion that he didn't want to let go of me, but I dismissed it as wishful thinking. Perhaps he relished our games for their excitement, but he held no genuine interest in me.

After he departed, I rose from the ground, hastening to the bathroom to compose myself. Upon returning to the bedroom, I paused, struck by the sight of the slightly disheveled bed. Moving closer, I straightened the sheets, but a realization dawned on me.

A smile tugged at my lips, followed by a soft chuckle. "Looks like past Alison finally got her wish," I remarked to myself, eyeing the bed I had once hoped to share with Jared. Yet, my joy was fleeting as I recalled who had shared it with me instead. The memory of bloodstains lingered, though the tainted sheets had long been discarded.

I reached out, fingers grazing the fabric, almost yearning to console my former self. But there was no solace to be found. Jared and I had each found our own ways to endure. I masked my pain with a smile, while he simply ignored it, pretending the world didn't exist.

Shaking my head, I admonished myself to stop dwelling on the past. Such thoughts served no purpose. I couldn't change what had happened. It was time to move forward. With resolve, I left the bedroom, rejoining the lively party. Some guests had indulged in too much drink, their voices growing louder. Spotting Warren amidst his friends, I approached him, and as he enveloped me in his embrace, I noticed he remained sober—an unexpected relief.

I planted a kiss on his cheek, and he turned to meet my lips. Yet, the touch felt as cold as my mother's, prompting me to scan the crowd. Her narrowed eyes locked onto mine, undoubtedly pondering my delayed return, but she refrained from confronting me in this setting.

I was about to return my attention to my husband when I noticed someone else staring at me from across the room. Jared had joined my father at the small bar, engaging in conversation. Yet, his focus wasn't on my father but on me, behind him.

My heart raced, and my body ignited with desire for him. I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to be too obvious, though I knew my mother must have observed the silent exchange between us. I would deal with the repercussions later. The sensation of Jared's earlier actions lingered within me, keeping me feeling alive.

Warren's hand remained on my hip, sliding a little lower as the evening progressed. I allowed it, understanding the importance of appearances in front of the others. If there was still affection between us, then perhaps our relationship wasn't as affected as others had feared.

"So, Alison," one of Warren's friends interjected, drawing my attention. "What can you tell us about our newcomer?"

He gestured toward Jared, and I inwardly sighed. Couldn"t the conversation avoid focusing on him for more than a few minutes? I wondered. I struggled enough in my own time to avoid dwelling on him, and now everyone else wanted to discuss him as well.

"I don't know," I replied.

"That's not entirely true. You and Jared are old friends," Warren pointed out.

Once again, I wished I could correct them. Referring to us as friends felt almost like an insult, but not to me—to Jared. At least, to the old Jared. That version had endured enough.

"Then enlighten us," his friends pressed, clearly eager to ascertain any potential threat he might pose. Was this turning into a pissing competition? I mused.

"There isn't much to say," I informed them. "He's simply a man who has undergone a transformation, ascending from the depths to the heights."

They all appeared rather uninterested, but it wasn't my responsibility to entertain them with gossip about Jared. The truth was, I didn't know much about the old Jared, and the new Jared was not someone I could discuss openly. He was a criminal, a killer, and I had no desire to see him arrested if I started spreading rumors. Besides, what evidence did I have? However, it was evident that Warren wanted me to provide some information, as his grip around me tightened, urging me to continue.

"He has a talent for drawing," I offered, though their lack of enthusiasm persisted.

I understood their true inquiries. Would Jared be a threat to their wives or girlfriends? Would he become the new favorite of my father? Would he rise above them, a man from the slums ascending to the top?

I sighed, knowing what would appease them. "And he is happily married," I lied, noting the relief that washed over them as I implied Jared's disinterest in any woman present. Yet, I knew they were not entirely safe. Jared would readily pursue any woman here to avoid returning to Astrid.

Could Astrid not become pregnant soon? Or was I foolish for wishing such a thing? I didn't truly wish for her to bear Jared's child, but I couldn't take her place either. Did I even want to take Astrid's place? I glanced at Warren as the conversation continued. I used to envision him as the father of my child, but as I looked at Jared across the room, now engrossed in conversation with my father, my thoughts drifted elsewhere.

What would a girl with his dark hair and perhaps my blue eyes look like? Or a son? My heart quickened at the prospect, a deep longing stirring within me, yet it was an impossibility. Even if he shared the same desire, biology was not on my side and never would be.

I pushed aside these thoughts, ensuring they would not resurface, before returning my focus to the discussion at hand. However, it wasn't long before the first couple departed, and soon others followed suit, leaving the groups smaller and the room emptying. Warren was a socialite and wanted to prolong our stay, but he eventually excused himself to the bathroom, instructing me to meet him at the house's entrance.

I exited the living room, but my path was intercepted by my mother. As others departed around us, she fixed me with a stern gaze, ensuring I remained in place until we were alone.

"Why do I suspect you didn't heed my warning?" she inquired.

"What do you mean? I spent the evening with Warren," I replied.

My mother reached out, brushing back my ponytail to inspect my neck.

"And this red mark—was it caused by a mosquito?" she questioned, causing me to sigh and avert my gaze. The mark was small, barely noticeable and already fading, but naturally, she would notice why my hair was draped over my shoulder instead of cascading down my back.

"Mosquitoes are quite sizable out here," I remarked before the resounding slap echoed through the room. I barely flinched, merely clenched my fists before slowly turning my head to face my mother.

"I warned you, Alison. Your marriage needs mending."

"So Warren gets to have affairs, and I don't?" I retorted.

"Not with Jared. Stay away from him," my mother commanded.

"Even after you've given him your approval? Even now, I can't be with him?" I asked incredulously.

"No, you can't. I'm doing this to help you, Alison. Such fixation isn't healthy."

"I can't believe we're discussing my fixation!" I snapped.

"What else would we discuss?"

"How about your dependence on alcohol and sleeping pills? Shall we address that?" I growled, taking a step closer. It was evident my mother was about to strike me again, but before she could, we both heard a creak and spun around. My mother's hand hung in mid-air as Jared stood in the doorway.

My mother, who had always been meticulous in maintaining her flawless fa?ade, now stood before us, pale and uncertain, struggling to conceal what was about to unfold between us. From the ominous glare in Jared's eyes, it was evident he wouldn't be easily fooled. His gaze shifted slowly from my mother's hand to my throbbing cheek, then back to her.

"J-Jared," she stammered, "I thought you had left."

He gestured toward something by the bar, and we followed his gaze, spotting a phone lying there. With a calm demeanor, he walked over to retrieve it, his mere presence filling the room with an intense tension. I observed my mother squirming uncomfortably, attempting to force a smile. Jared retrieved his phone before turning to face us, the tension so obvious that it felt suffocating, yet this time, I wasn't the target of his anger.

"I can be forgetful at times," he began, his voice deep and ominous, sending shivers down my spine—but shivers of pure pleasure. Even in this moment, his words conjured memories of him deep inside me. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"We all can," my mother replied, attempting a nervous laugh.

"Yes, indeed. But some things tend to stick in my memory," he confessed, his subtle threat hanging in the air like an unspoken promise. My mother swallowed visibly, though she continued to maintain her strained smile. Despite the truth Jared had already witnessed, she seemed determined to keep up appearances.

"Well, make sure you get home safely," my mother offered, brushing off his warning.

"That's very kind of you, Callie. But before I depart," he said, holding up his phone. I noticed a recording queued up on the screen. He pressed play, and the conversation between my mother and me, along with the resounding slap, echoed from the device. I flinched at the sound, while my mother's complexion turned ghostly pale.

"As I mentioned," he began, pausing the playback. "There are certain things I never forget."

A dark smile spread across his lips, and in that moment, I found myself more captivated by him than ever before. My mother was rendered speechless, emitting strange, croaked sounds as she was finally caught red-handed. I wished to capture this moment in a photograph, for I had never witnessed anything more exquisite. Jared leisurely pocketed his phone, ensuring this would be a memory etched into our minds forever.

"Have a goodnight, Callie," he addressed my mother, deliberately using her first name as he passed by us once more. I assumed that was the end of it, but then he paused in the doorway, turning to meet my gaze. "Alison?"

I perked up. "Yes?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly, conveying his displeasure at my lack of comprehension. "Come."

"Of course," I replied, brushing past my mother, who was still processing the ordeal she had just experienced. A grin spread across my face as I exited the room, feeling as if I could almost float down the hallway. As we stepped outside, just in front of the house, I couldn't contain my gratitude.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

He shook his head. "I didn't do it for you."

"Oh?" I prompted.

"I simply detest bullies," he revealed, causing my smile to widen.

"Understood."

Jared then retrieved his phone, tapping away at it. Soon enough, my purse buzzed, and I retrieved my phone to find that Jared had sent me the recording. I looked up at him in astonishment, my mouth agape.

"For the next time she thinks she can hurt you," he explained.

"I..." All I wanted to do in that moment was reach for him and kiss him. I knew he only craved my kisses because he understood how much of a weakness that they were for me. But I struggled to find the words to express my gratitude for his gesture. How could I convey the significance of his actions?

"Jared," I began, hoping to articulate what I was feeling, and his eyes met mine with intrigue, waiting for me to continue. "I just want to—"

"Alison?" I turned my head to see Warren approaching, eyeing Jared and me with suspicion. Stepping away from Jared, I noticed his eyes darken at the distance between us.

"Hey," I replied, forcing a smile. "Jared was just keeping me company. Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes," Warren answered, swiftly placing himself between Jared and me, wrapping an arm around my waist as he guided me into the night and toward the car.

Glancing back at Jared, every fiber of my being urged me to push Warren away and return to him. But I allowed my husband to lead me to the car, climbing inside as we drove away, leaving Jared behind.