Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 140 - - Albert Wilson, I love you!

Monica glanced at her boss, her smile radiant.

"It was on New Year's Eve..."

In truth, she was hoping that her boss would definitely want to see Cynthia sing, and that's why she was pushing her to perform.

Albert Wilson, holding his wine glass, leaned casually against the back of his chair, head tilted as he watched Cynthia retreating. He found the situation amusing. Monica, true to her role as his secretary, had nailed his unspoken desire, and now he was looking forward to seeing Cynthia sing.

Without giving Cynthia a chance to refuse, Monica rushed over and selected the song.

At that moment, the previous song ended, and before Cynthia could even react, she was pushed forward by a pair of strong hands. Monica quickly grabbed her and handed her the microphone, pulling her to the front.

The music began to play, and the bustling crowd fell silent. Cynthia, still in a daze, found herself on stage, with nowhere to retreat. She had no choice but to brace herself, stepping up.

Why was it that when everyone else sang, people continued to do their own thing, but when it was her turn, everyone stopped to watch? And now, every pair of eyes was on her, focused intently, as if they couldn't take their eyes off her.

Cynthia had barely sung a line when the crowd below erupted into excited cheers and teasing.

Startled by the attention, she missed a line. A man's disapproving glare swept over the crowd, and instantly, silence fell. Blushing, she lowered her voice and continued the song.

Albert Wilson, holding his wine glass, leaned back, his heart racing with a strange, undeniable intensity. That night, when he had received her call, she had sung this very line—the one that had struck a chord deep within him. Could he interpret it as a sort of confession or a hidden message from her?

As the lyrics played on, he wondered if he could take it as a subtle declaration of her feelings for him. After all, why had she chosen this particular song to sing that night? His dark eyes narrowed as they fixated on her, watching intently as she faced him, her side profile catching the dim light.

She had removed her beige coat, now only wearing the black, fitted sweater he had chosen for her. The form-fitting design highlighted her slender frame, casting her in a more mysterious and ethereal light in the dim glow.

Noticing how engrossed he was in the moment, the crowd wisely refrained from making any further noise. The song's melody was gentle and lighthearted, and her languid voice seemed to settle the bustling atmosphere. The tension that had hung in the air now faded, replaced by a calm, almost intimate energy.

She couldn't help but wonder: Do we sing the lyrics, or do we sing ourselves?

Without thinking, she glanced toward him, only to find him sitting in the shadow, his silhouette outlined by the dim light. He held his glass with an elegant, almost aristocratic grace, his deep, dark eyes fixed intently on her.

Her heart raced suddenly, pounding in her chest. His gaze felt like it pierced through her, as though every hidden thought was exposed. A wave of nervousness and unease flooded her, making it impossible to continue singing. She stopped, staring blankly at the lyrics scrolling on the screen.

Monica stepped in at the right moment, changing the song, and Cynthia sighed in relief, setting the microphone down. She walked slowly toward him, each step making her heart flutter with anticipation.

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He opened his arms, pulling her into an embrace, and handed her a drink. His voice, soft and low, whispered in her ear, "You sang beautifully."

His words were full of subtle intimacy, and the faint scent of alcohol on his breath only made her pulse quicken once again. The next moments blurred as others took their turn to sing, and the group turned back to playing games. She sat next to him, drink in hand, watching him laugh and chat with the others, the smoke from his cigarette curling in the air like a hazy dream.

After a while, someone suggested a game called "I Love You" and "Shameless." The rules were a blur, and she hardly paid attention.

When the game began, it was unexpected: he raised his hand, as if suddenly eager to participate. With no objections, the group agreed.

Then, turning to her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he said, "I love you!"

The sudden intensity in his expression, the serious look in his eyes, and the determined stance he took, all accompanied by the laughter and teasing from the crowd.

She had been absentmindedly sipping her drink, but those three words hit her like a bolt from the blue. Her mind went blank, and for a moment, she couldn't react.

Though she hadn't fully understood the rules of the game, she gathered that if someone said "I love you," the proper response was to say "shameless," or face the penalty of drinking.

With her brain short-circuiting in confusion, she impulsively blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Shameless!"

His expression froze for a moment, but without hesitation, he repeated himself, "I love you."

Her head spun, and before she could think, she automatically responded with another "shameless."

He seemed a bit embarrassed now, but she too was starting to regain her composure. Her face flushed, and she sat there, unwilling to meet his gaze. It was just a game, and she had followed the rules, but rejecting him twice like that, especially in front of so many people, made her feel awkward.

But why was he so insistent? Saying it again and again—why? She couldn't understand what was going on with her, either, as she just kept responding "shameless" in a daze.

She thought he would give up, but no, he said it again. This time, he spoke slowly, each word deliberate, as though he wanted to engrave those three words into her mind:

"I love you."

She froze, her heart feeling as if it had been struck by something, a sharp pain that was impossible to ignore, yet beneath it, there was an undeniable flutter. Though it was just a game, and he was likely only following the rules—saying "I love you" to the person on his left, and "shameless" to the one on his right—her emotions couldn't help but take it seriously, especially since he said it with such sincerity.

This time, she couldn't bring herself to respond with "shameless" again. But she certainly couldn't say "I love you" either.

She had never intended to reveal her feelings for him, knowing there was no future for them, and now, especially not in front of so many people. She was a reserved person, and she bit her lip, stuck in an awkward silence, unable to speak.

The crowd began to tease her, mimicking her voice as they laughed, "Albert, I love you!" "Hubby, I love you!" "Albert Wilson, I love you!"

Her face grew even redder, and the embarrassment only deepened, but she remained silent. She could have repeated "shameless" to avoid saying "I love you," but for some reason, the words just wouldn't come out. Saying them would hurt him, and in turn, hurt herself.

After struggling with her thoughts for a while, she grabbed the drink in front of her and said, "I accept the punishment."

Closing her eyes, she was about to drink the entire glass in one go when suddenly, her hand was empty. She opened her eyes to see him taking the drink from her, draining it with ease, and then turning to the person on his right to say "shameless." He spared her the trouble.

She bit her lip and fell into silence, not saying a word. A brief moment of quiet followed before the game resumed, but the looks from the others around them were now filled with curiosity and interest, their eyes fixed on the two of them.