Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 105 - 104- I want my own wife

In the end, everything turned out to be nothing more than an illusion, like flowers in a mirror or the moon in water.

The things she once thought she would do with the person she loved most, the places they would visit together—how ironic and bitter it was to experience them instead with a man whose story with her had no ending.

She looked up at the clear, azure sky above, blinking hard to force back the tears threatening to fall. Then, lowering her head with a despondent expression, she continued walking forward.

She had been so lost in her memories moments ago that she completely forgot about the man walking beside her. As a result, she didn't even notice that her hand was on the verge of being crushed by his grip.

It wasn't until she tried to take another step forward and found herself unable to move that she realized something was wrong. Turning her head, she met his dark, stormy eyes, brimming with a terrifying anger. Feeling guilty, she lowered her gaze.

"What's going on?"

With a forceful tug, he pulled her back in front of him, his intense gaze fixed on her dim and lifeless eyes.

His tone sounded calm, but the tight line of his lips betrayed his anger. Cynthia's heart trembled slightly, yet the secret in her heart was one she didn't wish to share with anyone. So, she feigned ignorance and casually countered,

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"What do you mean, 'what's going on'?"

It was clear to him that she had firmly closed herself off. Albert Wilson narrowed his eyes dangerously, casting a glance at the vast sea of purple flowers in the distance. Images of a man in purple clothing and her earlier resistance to wearing a purple dress flashed through his mind. Suddenly, he began to understand the reason behind her melancholy.

He had simply assumed this place was every woman's dream destination and had brought her here without a second thought. He never expected it would touch upon a forbidden corner of her heart.

A trace of irritation flickered in his chest, mingling with a surge of anger.

Never before had a woman shared his bed while keeping thoughts of another man day and night!

He admitted that over the past year, he had indeed developed an interest in her—both in her as a person and in her body. He wasn't sure how long this interest would last, but until it faded, he had no intention of letting her go.

Before today, he had never entertained the frightening idea of keeping her by his side against her will. But now, seeing his good intentions trampled so indifferently, the bloodthirsty instincts coursing through his veins were fully awakened.

Cynthia, he thought grimly, the more you want to escape, the less I'll let you go. Let's see who gives in first.

Lately, too many things had been happening around her. He could tell that, with her personality, there was no way she would choose a proper way to vent her emotions. She would only bottle everything up inside.

Since his business in Vietnam had recently wrapped up, he figured he could use a break himself. Taking the opportunity, he thought it would be good to bring her out for a change of scenery. Staying cooped up back home in such a stifling mood wasn't a solution.

But now, seeing her reaction, he realized he had been completely mistaken.

With that thought, his grip on her wrist tightened, his expression growing colder.

"I brought you here for a vacation, not to watch you sulk!"

If he hadn't said that, things might have been fine. But the moment those words left his mouth, the simmering anger in Cynthia's chest flared up like a wildfire. She curled her lips into a mocking smile and retorted sharply,

"Mr. Wilson, I don't recall begging you to take me on this vacation. As for my expression, I'm sorry, but this is just how I look. If you don't like it, we can part ways right now and head back to our respective countries!"

Her life back home had been perfectly fine. Why did she have to come all the way out here with him for some so-called vacation? Besides, he had practically forced her to come along; it wasn't like she had any desire to be dragged around.

"What did you just say?"

Albert Wilson was clearly furious. His handsome face twisted with rage, and it seemed like he was on the verge of crushing her slender wrist.

She really knew how to get under his skin, always choosing the words he least wanted to hear. If she had just shown the slightest hint of weakness right now, he might have let it go. But no—she had to challenge him, standing her ground with that defiant and disdainful attitude.

It felt as though all the anger inside him had rushed to his head, burning away his usual rationality. His chest heaved as he glared at her stubborn little face for what felt like an eternity before finally spitting out two cold words:

"Back to the room."

He grabbed her and started striding back to the hotel without another word.

He hadn't wanted to ruin the mood on the first day of their vacation. But now, it seemed like he'd have to teach her a lesson—otherwise, she would never learn!

"Albert Wilson, what do you think you're doing?"

Cynthia was terrified by the anger in his eyes, desperately struggling to pull her body backward, refusing to follow him back.

Without another word, he stopped, swiftly scooping up her struggling figure into his arms. Taking long strides toward the hotel, he clenched his teeth and growled,

"If I don't teach you a lesson today, then I'm not Albert Wilson!"

She immediately understood his intent, and her panic intensified. Her struggles became more frantic, her voice laced with tears as she cried out,

"No—Albert Wilson, put me down!"

The hotel lobby was bustling with people, and the commotion between them drew curious glances from onlookers. Not daring to struggle too loudly, she freed one hand to dig her nails fiercely into his arm. Albert Wilson's face grew even darker from the pain, his icy aura making several passersby hastily turn away.

Kicking open the door to their room, he unceremoniously tossed her onto the bed. And it wasn't just a simple toss—it was a forceful throw. Although the bed was soft, Cynthia was still left dizzy and disoriented from the impact. It was clear that he hadn't held back.

As she struggled to regain her senses, she saw him pulling off his T-shirt, revealing his muscular upper body.

She shrieked, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing it at him.

"Don't come any closer, Albert Wilson!"

He sneered coldly, catching the pillow with ease and letting it drop limply to the floor. The pillow was light and harmless, a futile defense.

Panic and despair welled up inside her as she leapt off the bed, putting the large piece of furniture between them as a barrier. She stood there, staring at him from across the bed.

But he didn't advance further. Instead, he stood where he was, smirking as he extended a hand toward her.

"Cynthia, be good. Come here. I promise to be gentle with you... unless—"

His gaze darkened,

"Don't blame me if you get hurt."

She trembled with rage at his blatant words.

"Albert Wilson, you—you shameless scoundrel!"

He was entirely unfazed by her insults. Instead, he chuckled softly, turned around, and sat gracefully on the edge of the bed. With a composed demeanor, he patted the soft mattress and said,

"I know you're dying to call me shameless, perverse, or vile. But Cynthia, no matter how nasty your words are, the undeniable truth is—you can't escape this room. So why not come over here like a good girl? I'll make sure we both savor the pinnacle of pleasure together."

With her trapped in this room, any attempt to resist was futile. He had already caught her in his web, so he decided to drop the anger from earlier and indulge himself in teasing her patiently.

His words were loaded with suggestive meaning, making Cynthia so furious she nearly fainted. She took a deep breath, clinging to the last shred of reason, and countered,

"Albert Wilson, someone of your status shouldn't have to resort to force, right?"

Leaning back casually with his arms propped against the bed, he flashed a lazy, unbothered smile.

"Not like I haven't done it before. Status or no status, I couldn't care less."

His words brought a flood of memories—memories of their wedding night when he had ruthlessly taken what he wanted, her resistance proving utterly futile. The hopelessness of it all made her body sway slightly, her face pale with despair.

Finally, she clenched her jaw, steeling herself.

"If you dare do something like that... I—I'll call the police!"

She quickly pulled out her phone as she spoke, her hands trembling.

This time, he burst into laughter, unreserved and mocking.

"Call the police?"

His laugh was rich and deep, his eyes even more mesmerizingly dark as he looked at her.

"Cynthia, have you lost your mind in anger? Do you think the police will intervene because I want my own wife?"

In truth, his body had been screaming for her since last night. But knowing she was exhausted from the long journey, he had forced himself to hold back. Now, however, she had provoked him, and he no longer saw any need to restrain himself.

Rising from the bed, he strode over to the woman, who stood frozen—whether in shock, fear, or sheer disbelief. His strong hands encircled her slender waist, pulling her close. Without hesitation, he dipped his head and captured her slightly parted lips, savoring them with deliberate intensity.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd tasted her. Was it before the New Year? It had been far too long. Now that he had finally touched her again, the sensation sent his breathing into a frenzy, hot and uncontrollable.

"Mmm—Albert Wilson, let go of me!"

The fiery contact snapped Cynthia back to her senses. Her hands pressed against his chest, trying to push him away, but he remained utterly unbothered by her resistance. Desperation clawed at her, and in a last-ditch effort, she bit down hard on his tongue, which had been invading her mouth so recklessly.