Chapter 18
To live peacefully with Kim, Peter opened a guesthouse in the Alpine Mountain Range.
Its location matched exactly where Kim had described-a perfect spot for photos.
Here you could see the Golden Mountain Sunrise over the Alps, sunsets, and the Milky Way.
He transplanted a giant cedar draped with Prayer Scarfs in the Tibetan tradition.
Remembering how Kim loved swings, Peter installed several around the cedar and guesthouse.
Just after renovations, Diana Jackson stormed in.
“Peter, as heir to the Jackson empire, what kind of behavior is this?”
Peter gazed at Kim’s silhouette nearby, replying flatly:
“Mom, I’ve told you repeatedly. Kimmy wanted this guesthouse. I’m staying with her.”
Diana followed his gaze but saw only empty air.
She never imagined her formidable business prodigy would crumble over a woman.
“How many times must I say it? Kim Lee is dead! When will you face reality?”
Peter acted deaf: “She’s not gone. She’s right here with me.”
He squeezed the invisible woman’s hand, tenderness flooding his eyes.
To Diana, he was gesturing at nothingness.
“Peter…” She clutched her chest. “Abandoning the company, your child, your home?”
“Go back, Mom. I’m staying with Kimmy.”
His voice remained detached.
After surviving life and death, everything else felt insignificant.
Running this guesthouse with Kim was all he wanted now.
“You and Dad handle the company. You’ve got grandchildren. When they’re grown, you’ll retire comfortably. Isn’t that enough?”
Diana’s visits always ended in trembling rage.
“Fine! We’ll manage the company. We have heirs. But you’re my son!”
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Chapter 18
“Watching this destroys me. Can’t you understand?”
Carrying him for ten months only to hear people call him insane-it shattered her.
“I know. But I won’t leave Kim.”
Their conversation crashed again.
While pushing Kim’s imaginary swing in the yard, Peter saw Raymond Rodriguez charging in furiously.
“Peter! I’m gonna explode! Some woman pulled a honey trap at the bar last night!”
“Damn drunk-no way I slept with her!”
Peter froze mid-push, pupils contracting: “Drunk people can’t… perform?”
Raymond collapsed onto a bench: “Hell no!”
“Twenty years of experience: alcohol kills all performance.”
Peter suddenly revisited that night two years ago with Samantha.
He’d been dead drunk then too-zero memory afterward. Could it mean…
He never betrayed Kim? Samantha must have lied!
Damn it, she still thinks she can fool me? You think I’m that gullible?”
Raymond kept ranting while Peter walked straight to the window and made a call.
“Hello, this is Peter Jackson. Please send the best neurologist here immediately.”
Raymond frowned. “What are you doing?”
Peter set down his phone, looking at Kim.
“I need the doctor to confirm something.”
