The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 44

Celia took a moment to gather her bearings, finally shaking off the remnants of her drunken act.

"Uncle Alistair," she looked at the man beside her, her eyes still clouded with mock confusion. "Can you black out from drinking?"

Alistair paused, a bit thrown by the random question, but answered seriously, "It depends on the individual."

"Then what if I sober up tomorrow and forget that we made up?"

Hearing this, Alistair let out the faintest, almost imperceptible chuckle.

"Will you be home tomorrow?"

He asked her.

Celia gave a delayed nod. "I'll be home."

"Tomorrow, I'll have Ken bring over some new coffee I recently got from a friend."

Pausing briefly, Alistair added softly, "When you see Ken, you'll know that we made up."

Celia seemed satisfied with that answer and nodded. "Then I'll wait for him tomorrow."

Standing outside the car, Ken watched the incredibly docile Ms. Stafford and couldn't help but smile.

Once she finally got out of the car, Ken walked her to the front door, only relaxing when he saw Alfred open the door to welcome her inside.

As the heavy doors clicked shut, Celia claimed she was exhausted and headed straight up to her second-floor bedroom.

Closing the bedroom door, she leaned against it, the haziness in her eyes vanishing instantly, replaced by a razor-sharp clarity.

Celia had an incredible alcohol tolerance. Back in her freshman year, some arrogant seniors in the student council had tried to haze her by forcing her to drink, and she had single-handedly drunk eight of them under the table.

That tiny amount of alcohol tonight was barely enough to give her a buzz.

Not bad. The plan was practically executing itself perfectly.

There were a few minor deviations, but nothing that compromised the end goal.

However, she had severely underestimated Alistair's moral compass.

She originally thought that playing the drunk, vulnerable card would cause a massive leap in their relationship tonight.

But looking at it now, his progress was agonizingly slow.

Celia feigned a moment of stunned realization before taking the package. "Thank you, Ken."

Seeing her reaction, Ken widened his eyes and asked tentatively, "Ms. Stafford, do you... not remember what happened last night?"

Focusing her gaze back on Ken, Celia burst into a bright, melodious laugh.

"I haven't forgotten. I remember making up with Uncle Alistair."

Ken let out a massive sigh of relief, awkwardly scratching his head with a grin. "That's great, that's great. As long as you're not mad at Mr. Zucker anymore, everything is perfect."

Pausing for a moment, an idea struck him. "By the way, Ms. Stafford, isn't your graduation dance performance in three days?"

Celia nodded. "Yes. How did you know?"

"I was reviewing Mr. Zucker's schedule. Capital University invited him for a guest lecture in three days, and the timing lines up perfectly with the dance department's final presentations right after."

"Mr. Zucker wanted me to ask—regarding those false plagiarism rumors a few days ago, even though the university cleared your name, it still left a bit of a negative impact."

"He wants to know if you'd like him to attend your performance to personally shut down any remaining gossip."