Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 148 - - childish

Cynthia opened her mouth, about to say something more, but before the words could leave her lips, the small hand wrapped around his waist was seized by his firm grasp. His cold, unyielding voice followed, extinguishing every ounce of her enthusiasm.

"You know what I want to hear. If you're not going to say that, then don't bother speaking at all!"

With a slight exertion of force, he pried her hand away and pushed it back. Her heart sank instantly, half-frozen by his rejection.

That was it. She was truly furious now. Clenching her teeth, she stubbornly turned her back to him in defiance.

Was he serious? Did he really have to be so domineering, demanding she bare her soul to him? Why couldn't she keep even a sliver of her own privacy ? And what about him? Why didn't he come clean with her about everything?

She had already lowered herself so much, practically groveling to please him, and still, he dared to give her the cold shoulder! It wounded her pride deeply. She didn't even think she was in the wrong to begin with, and now, with his attitude, she was even less inclined to care about what he thought.

In the darkness, Albert Wilson could sense her displeasure, but he remained tight-lipped. He had made up his mind—this time, he was going to stick to his silent protest. Until she came clean with him, he wouldn't break the icy silence.

And so, the two of them lay back-to-back, stewing in their respective frustrations. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and they both drifted into a fitful sleep.

If anyone were to ask, What happens when two porcupines fall in love and try to embrace each other? they would only need to look at these two for the answer: a mess of wounds and scars.

When morning came, both of them froze in awkward realization. They had somehow ended up tangled together during the night. Neither knew who had initiated it, but there they were: she curled into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist, while he held her tightly in his long arms and legs, their bodies pressed together with no space between them.

Both in a huff, they threw back their respective blankets and stormed off to separate bathrooms. While brushing her teeth, Cynthia fumed internally. How on earth had she ended up in his arms?

But it definitely wasn't her fault. She was sure of it.

She had always been an incredibly still sleeper; the way she fell asleep was almost always the same way she woke up, with hardly a shift all night. It must have been him. That man couldn't even fall asleep without clinging to something, could he?

After washing up, they went downstairs for breakfast, pretending the other didn't exist. Poor Fredy, caught in the middle of their silent feud, found himself unable to do anything right. The poor old man looked so troubled he nearly resigned and retreated to a secluded mountain.

And so, the cold war officially began.

During the day, Albert would sometimes leave to run errands, or stay holed up in his study working. Cynthia, meanwhile, found herself enjoying the newfound freedom. She spent her days shopping with Bonnie, recklessly swiping his credit card.

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Originally a frugal and practical woman, she had been driven by his behavior to become a shameless spender.

Every time she returned from a spree, she would flaunt her purchases in front of him, either subtly or overtly showing off her "trophies."

Albert's reaction was always the same: a raised eyebrow, a cold sneer, and then he'd either turn and walk away or resume his work in silence. His lack of acknowledgment boiled down to one word: childish.

Then, after their holiday ended and everyone went back to work, Albert started being out all day, only returning home at night. A week later, he stopped coming home altogether, even at night.

The first day, Cynthia remained calm. The second day, she was still composed.

But by the third day, she couldn't take it anymore. Pride, however, kept her from calling him directly. Instead, she dialed Monica's number.

"Monica, do you know where Albert Wilson has been the past few days?"

She hesitated for what felt like an eternity before finally spitting out the question. Monica, startled, asked in surprise:

"Cynthia, you don't know? The boss went to Miami a few days ago!"

"Miami?"

Cynthia was caught off guard by the news. Just like that, there was now an ocean between them.

Monica continued, "Yes, it's because of that Lucca situation..."

"Lucca?"

A sharp pang stabbed at her heart. How could she have forgotten? Between her and him, there was always a Lucca .

Monica, with her quick intuition, immediately picked up on Cynthia's concern and hurried to reassure her.

"But Cynthia, don't worry! I heard that Lucca called the boss to Miami to negotiate because she's planning to let him go."

"Let him go?"

Monica didn't know the full details—she had only heard bits from Jim. Apparently, Lucca had experienced a sudden change of heart. She said that if she truly loved him, she should let him go and allow him to pursue his happiness.

However, Lucca wasn't leaving entirely. She intended to stay and help with his plan for revenge. She couldn't let their failed relationship ruin years of hard work and preparation. Over the past two years, she had completely earned Karl's trust, and she was close to uncovering evidence of his embezzlement and bribery.

Monica's words eased Cynthia's anxiety slightly, but she still felt a heavy weight in her chest. After a few more exchanges, she ended the call.

In the following days, Albert still didn't come home at night. Cynthia assumed he was still in Miami and hadn't returned.

One afternoon, Bonnie dragged her along to attend some finance professor's lecture. They were about to graduate and didn't actually need to take any more classes, but Bonnie had become obsessed with the professor lately, religiously attending his lectures.

After class, Bonnie clasped Cynthia's hands, pleading with her,

"Cynthia, I need your help with something! You have to help me!"

Cynthia rolled her eyes. "How can I say yes if you won't even tell me what it is?"

Bonnie's face flushed with a mix of shyness and excitement.

"The professor said that if I can invite Vice President Wilson to give a finance lecture at our school, he'll agree to date me!"

"What?"

Cynthia almost spat blood in disbelief. Was proud and headstrong Bonnie really willing to agree to such a condition? Was this the so-called power of love? And why didn't that power seem so strong in her own life?

"So, Cynthia, I'm entrusting this glorious yet daunting task to you. My lifelong happiness depends on you. Please, you must persuade your husband to come to our school for a lecture!"

Without waiting for a response, Bonnie dashed off, chasing after the handsome professor's retreating figure.

Cynthia shouted after her in frustration, "Hey, I haven't agreed yet!"

But Bonnie was long gone. Left standing there, Cynthia stomped her foot in exasperation. She was still in a cold war with Albert. Was she really supposed to swallow her pride and reach out to him for Bonnie's sake?

Damn that traitorous, love-struck woman! Damn that arrogant, overbearing man!

Fuming, she grabbed her bag and stormed off to the library to bury herself in research for her graduation thesis.

When Monica called to tell her that Albert had returned, she was curled up in a corner of the library, drowning in the misery of thesis writing. Four years of neglecting her studies had finally caught up with her, and her current state was nothing short of tragic. At that moment, she genuinely felt like jumping off a building.

After hanging up on Monica, she sprang to her feet with a resolute determination, her fiery expression startling the student seated across from her into a shudder.

Quickly gathering her materials, she marched out of the library and dialed Bonnie's number. As soon as the call connected, she said in a grave tone,

"Laurence!"

Bonnie was startled by Cynthia's serious tone, her voice trembling as she asked, "C-Cynthia, are you okay?"

Cynthia's delicate face showed a brief flicker of hesitation before her expression turned resolute.

"I'll deal with Albert Wilson for you, but you have to handle my graduation thesis for me!"

To Cynthia, persuading Albert was far easier than tackling her thesis. Just the sight of her research materials or the mere mention of "thesis" made her want to bang her head against the wall.

Bonnie burst out laughing, her response quick and enthusiastic.

"Deal!"

For a literary prodigy like Bonnie, completing a thesis was a breeze. But as for Albert Wilson—who the school couldn't even lure with substantial compensation—that was entirely beyond her capabilities.

"Good! It's a deal!"

Cynthia's tone was heavy, as though she were preparing to march into battle. If Albert ever found out that her decision to approach him was driven by sheer desperation over her thesis, he might very well be furious enough to cough up blood.

Hanging up the phone, she glanced at the time. It was nearly noon. Monica had mentioned that Albert had flown back in the morning and gone straight to the office after landing. After a moment's thought, she decided to return to his estate—which was now technically her home.

Once home, she hurried into the kitchen and began preparing his favorite dish: curry.

Fredy, catching sight of her bustling around, was so moved that tears welled up in his eyes—actual tears. Cynthia wasn't exaggerating in the slightest; she could clearly see the glimmer of moisture pooling at the corners of his eyes.