Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 126 - - I feel so hot…

The matter of revenge was still unresolved, but Albert had something even more important to do.

Ignoring his injuries, he rushed to Cynthia's house, determined to bring her back.

After speaking, he yanked her hand away, disregarded her cries of alarm, and started the car. The silver-gray vehicle roared to life and shot forward like an arrow released from a bow. Cynthia could do nothing but cling tightly to the handle above her head, rendered speechless by fear.

Fortunately, her small apartment was only a few streets away from his luxurious mansion. The harrowing ride lasted only a short while before coming to an abrupt end.

Jumping out of the car, he grabbed her and marched toward the house. Her unease grew as she thought about the harsh words he had flung at her back in the apartment. She struggled against him,

"Albert Wilson, let me go! I can walk by myself!"

He didn't budge, only tightening his grip. In no time, her slender wrist turned red from the pressure of his unrelenting hold.

The butler, hearing the sudden screech of the car, hurried out, only to be stunned into silence at the sight of Albert. His bloodshot eyes and the overpowering scent of alcohol combined with his evident fury were enough to frighten the older man into retreat.

Cynthia, in her disheveled state, was dragged all the way upstairs to the bedroom. Gripping the doorframe tightly with her free hand, fear finally showed in her eyes.

"Albert Wilson, don't—"

He turned back and shot her a cold smile before his expression sharpened. In one swift motion, he scooped her up. A dizzying blur followed as she was flung onto the large bed. His tall figure loomed over her, and his alcohol-laden lips pressed down onto hers.

"Albert Wilson, let me go!"

She fought desperately, punching and shouting at him.

Annoyed by her resistance, he yanked the scarf from around his neck and swiftly bound her hands above her head. Her curvaceous figure was now completely exposed before him. His gaze lingered, and gradually, flames of desire burned in his eyes.

Imagining how wretched she must look at the moment, Cynthia's eyes instantly brimmed with tears. Yet, he merely hovered over her with a cold sneer.

"Cynthia, who would have thought you'd be so capable?"

Her tears fell even more uncontrollably. She bit her lip hard and turned her face away, refusing to look at him. He forcefully grabbed her chin and turned her face back toward him, his smirk growing deeper.

"What's wrong? After spending a few nights with that man, you already can't stand my touch?"

As he spoke, his large hand slid under her clothing, tormentingly tracing every inch of her soft skin. Her body trembled uncontrollably under his teasing, and finally, his hand paused at her most private spot.

In near despair, Cynthia shut her eyes tightly. Then, she didn't know where the sudden burst of strength came from—perhaps desperation could push anyone to do anything. She abruptly bent both legs and drove her knees hard into his abdomen.

He clearly hadn't expected her to muster the strength for a sudden attack. Caught off guard, he clutched his abdomen and rolled off her. Wasting no time, she struggled to her feet and tried to dash toward the door.

But Wilson, ignoring the pain, leapt up from the bed and grabbed her, flinging her back onto the mattress. Towering over her, he glared down, his expression verging on madness.

"Fine, Cynthia! You refuse the wine of peace and insist on the wine of punishment, is that it? I wanted to treat you well, but since you won't appreciate it, don't blame me for being ruthless!"

With that, he turned and began rummaging through the nearby cabinet. Objects flew everywhere as he searched, until he finally rose, holding a small bottle of powder. He poured its contents into a cup, then turned toward her, cup in hand.

A suggestive smile spread across his face as he approached her.

"Cynthia, I guarantee that after drinking this water, you'll put away all your claws and lie beneath me like a meek little lamb, begging me to love you properly!"

Cynthia instantly realized what kind of drug it was. Her vision darkened, and she nearly fainted from rage. She kept retreating, her lips trembling as she cursed at him,

"Albert Wilson, you shameless bastard! You dare drug me!"

He didn't respond but smirked, steadily advancing toward her. Step by step, he closed the distance, forcing her into a corner with nowhere left to run. Only then did he reach out and grab her chin.

"I told you, I wanted to treat you well, but you refused. So... this is the only way!"

With that, he pinched her jaw, forcing her mouth open, and poured the water down her throat. She shook her head frantically, struggling with all her might. Half the liquid spilled, but the other half still found its way into her throat. As she slid down the wall in despair, she closed her eyes tightly.

Standing over her, he sneered coldly.

"Cynthia, you want a divorce? Not a chance! Let me make it perfectly clear to you now—Boston or no Boston, even if the Lancaster Empire goes bankrupt, you can forget about divorcing me. You'll stay obediently by my side until I've had enough of you. Only then will I let you go!"

Her small shoulders trembled uncontrollably, a clear sign of her extreme fury. After a long moment, she lifted her head and let out a piercing scream at him,

"Albert Wilson, you devil!"

The words had barely left her lips when she felt a wave of heat spread through her lower abdomen. A strange restlessness crept over her, as if thousands of ants were biting her from within. The tingling torment coursed through her blood, reaching every inch of her body.

Thinking of the drug he had just forced her to take, Cynthia suddenly bit down on her lip, hard. She bit so fiercely that her once rosy lips were nearly bleeding. It seemed as if only through this self-inflicted pain could she resist the blazing heat and trembling coursing through her body.

Albert Wilson saw her reaction and immediately knew the drug was taking effect. This was the same drug Henry had handed out to them back then, saying it was for "emergencies."

At the time, they had all mocked him harshly. He still remembered Klutz's wicked grin as he laughed, saying, "Men like us, tall, dashing, and irresistible—do we really need something like this to deal with women? Just a look or a crook of the finger, and they'd go weak in the knees."

Who would have thought that today, Albert Wilson would actually use it—on his own wife, no less? The thought only stoked the fire raging in his chest.

And yet, she was so stubborn, biting down on her lip with such determination. Even though her eyes betrayed the waves of desire overtaking her, and her flushed cheeks made her look even more alluring, she refused to yield. Her increasingly crimson lips seemed to taunt him, making him want to claim them immediately.

He bent down, intending to lift her up. She was curled tightly against the wall, clinging to herself, her mind clouded. But the moment she saw him approach, she bristled, lashing out with fists and kicks in a chaotic flurry to fend him off.

Her resistance nearly drove him mad. Even now, in this state, she still had the nerve to be so vicious toward him. His male pride was utterly shattered. Did he hold no attraction for her at all?

Setting aside his immense wealth and status, Albert Wilson knew that with his physique and looks alone, he could easily rank among the top ten most eligible bachelors. Yet here she was, glaring at him with nothing but disgust written all over her face.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. With a few swift movements, he tore off his shirt, revealing a lean, muscular physique. Striding forward with determination, he grabbed her forcefully and gritted out through clenched teeth,

"Cynthia, let's see how long you can keep acting tough!"

Before she could react, he pinned her soft body against the wall and kissed her fiercely. However, just as his lips met hers, she let out an uncontrollable moan. Her slender arms snaked around his body like vines, holding him tightly. For a moment, he was stunned.

He stared at her, dumbfounded, as she half-closed her watery eyes. Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, and her flushed lips parted, her breath soft and fragrant against his mouth as she murmured,

"Mm... It feels so unbearable..."

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While speaking, she tightened her arms around him, pulling his solid frame closer. Caught off guard, he was pressed firmly against her, their bodies fitting together seamlessly. The curves of her body against his own sent an electrifying shiver through him.

Yet, fearing his weight might hurt her, he scrambled to lift himself off her.

Just one hazy glance and her softly uttered cry had made him temporarily forget all the anger she'd caused earlier in the evening. At this moment, all that remained in his heart was a deep tenderness for her—and an even deeper longing.

On the other hand, Cynthia felt as though she were being consumed by the flames burning within her. Every cell in her body was crying out, yearning desperately for something to quench the emptiness she felt inside. She struggled to open her eyes, trying to clear her head, but involuntarily let out another soft sound.

She was mortified, embarrassed, and furious, but her body betrayed her completely. Without a shred of strength left, she would have collapsed to the floor if not for the hands holding her up. The more she tried to resist, the quicker the drug seemed to take effect. She unconsciously reached out, grabbing the nearest object—and found herself instinctively leaning closer.

"I feel so hot..."