Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 207 Was the night really going to end like this?

At the dinner table, I couldn’t help but give Michael some advice, and he expressed his hope for Betty and me to live happily.

The conversation was filled with sentimental words, yet for some reason, I felt little emotion stirring within me.

As I took my first sip of wine, a troubling thought crossed my mind: Could it be that Betty and Michael planned to get me drunk, to take advantage of my inebriated state and have one last passionate night together before Michael left home tomorrow?

After all, who knew when he would return?

With this suspicion, I kept a watchful eye on Michael as we drank.

Michael was still just a kid, and allowing him to drink today was an exception since minors normally aren’t permitted to drink.

But Michael was nearly an adult, and part of me wanted to test something.

It was clear that Michael couldn’t hold his liquor as well as I could; his face turned red after just a few sips.

Back when I was undercover, I drank frequently but always managed to stay sober, even pretending to be drunk as part of my role.

That was a basic skill for an undercover journalist.

By the time we finished the bottle, Michael was somewhat tipsy but still coherent, though he swayed a bit when he stood up.

I felt slightly buzzed but played up my drunkenness, acting as if I might collapse at any moment.

"Michael, enjoying your drink?" I slurred after downing the last glass, a common phrase people say after drinking.

"Happy, thanks, Dad..." Michael put down his glass and responded clearly, though his furrowed brow told me he was pretending to be more sober than he was.

"Alright, the drinking’s done, and your dad has fulfilled your wish. You two should head to bed now; I’ll clean up after you..." Betty instructed Michael, then sighed and shook her head.

"Betty, help... help me up..." I staggered to my feet, pretending to nearly fall, and Betty quickly came to support me.

She slowly helped me to the bedroom, where I immediately lay down on the bed.

Betty began to undress me while I lay motionless, muttering as if in a dream.

My acting skills were not to be underestimated; no one could tell I was faking.

Once Betty had finished undressing me, I started to snore lightly, another act of deception.

However, my mind was far from calm as my body portrayed.

I listened intently, wondering if I might overhear some revealing conversation between mother and son tonight, perhaps uncovering secrets without even needing to check the USB drive.

"Is Dad okay?" I heard Michael’s voice from the living room.

"He’s fine; your dad really can’t handle his liquor. I’ve never seen him drink this much..." Betty complained as she cleaned up.

"Alright, you should get some rest too, you have a flight tomorrow..." Betty then instructed Michael.

Footsteps faded, and it seemed Michael had also gone to his room.

The door closed, and only the sounds of Betty cleaning up in the kitchen remained.

I began to wonder if I had misjudged their intentions.

Their conversation didn’t seem to suggest any plot to get me drunk or any other ulterior motive.

Could it be that they knew I wasn’t asleep and were putting on a show for me?

That must be it; I continued to feign deep sleep while snoring.

Time ticked by slowly, with only the sounds of Betty tidying up filling the air.

Eventually, Betty returned to the room.

I felt a hand on my forehead checking for fever, then heard the sparse sounds of her changing clothes before she quietly left the room.

I didn’t open my eyes, but I could hear everything, a skill I had honed over the years.

Betty’s footsteps receded, and soon after, a door in the next room opened and closed—had Betty gone to Michael’s room?

At this point, I couldn’t pretend to be drunk any longer.

I sprang from the bed and tiptoed towards the bedroom door...

As I approached the door to peek into the living room, I breathed a sigh of relief.

A faint light shone through the small window of the bathroom door, followed by the sound of running water.

It turned out Betty was taking a shower.

Relieved, I decided to turn back and continue pretending to sleep in bed; getting caught by Betty would leave me without an excuse.

But just as I turned around, I paused.

Was Betty alone in the shower, or was there someone else with her?

For some reason, I was unusually suspicious tonight.

I turned back and leaned against the door, straining to hear any sounds from the bathroom.

All I could hear was the water and the usual sounds of someone showering—nothing else.

As I stood there lost in thought,

suddenly, I heard a door open.

I quickly turned and dashed back to bed to continue my act.

Lying in bed, I wondered: was it Betty who opened the door?

I had returned so quickly that I hadn’t seen which door had opened.

The sound of the shower indicated that Betty hadn’t finished yet, so that left...

As I suspected, footsteps echoed from the living room.

The heavy, unsteady steps had to be Michael, still affected by the alcohol.

His footsteps grew closer, heading towards my bedroom.

At that moment, my heart tightened.

Had they planned to rendezvous in the shower?

The footsteps stopped near the bathroom door.

I wondered if Betty had locked the door or if she had left it unlocked for Michael.

I didn’t know how long I pondered or how long those footsteps lingered outside the door.

Then I heard Michael’s footsteps again, this time moving away from me, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.

With that sound, I relaxed a bit.

Michael had returned to his room.

Was this just a coincidence?

Had Michael simply gotten up to use the bathroom, found Betty showering, and then returned to his room?

Or had they planned something, and Michael had backed out?

Mulling over these thoughts, I once again crept to the door, only to see the same scene: the bathroom light on, the sound of showering, and Michael’s door firmly shut.

I stood there, chin in hand, completely baffled by the unfolding events.

As I was deep in thought,

the sound of the shower stopped.

Betty had finished.

I quickly turned and ran back to bed, sneaking around like a thief.

Back in bed, my mind was far from calm because there were two possibilities after Betty finished her shower: she could return to our bedroom to sleep, or she could go to Michael’s bedroom...

As I pondered this, the bathroom door opened, and I heard the sound of slippers.

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Thankfully, the footsteps were heading towards our bedroom.

Betty entered the room, bringing with her a cloud of steam and the familiar scent of her body wash.

Time ticked by slowly.

After what felt like an eternity, Betty climbed into bed and quietly lay beside me.

I could smell her enticing hair fragrance.

Before falling asleep, Betty reached out and touched my forehead, then the room fell silent.

Soon, Betty’s breathing became steady and even.

Was the night really going to end like this?

Nothing happened?

Everything was normal.