Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 132 - - Who's calling?

Across the ocean, Albert Wilson was furious once again because of her loss of contact. He yelled at Fredy, ordering him to go out and find her, saying he would turn the entire city upside down if necessary.

When he finally heard through the phone that Fredy had found her, all the frustration he'd been holding in exploded. If she were in front of him right now, he would definitely throw her onto the bed and give her a good scolding.

He was about to yell into the phone when he suddenly heard her soft voice come through clearly:

"If it weren't for loving you, how could I feel this anxiety? On every inexplicable day, I miss you, miss you, miss you so much..."

He instantly felt as though something had struck deep inside him. Her voice was so soft, yet it carried such power that it shook him to his core.

His previously tense and anxious expression softened slightly. Holding the phone, he stood by the bright glass window, listening quietly. Monica, noticing his dazed look, swayed over with a glass of wine in hand.

"Hey, boss, what are you listening to?"

"What's this song?"

Albert Wilson snapped back to reality and handed his phone to Monica, frowning as he asked her. He wasn't usually interested in songs, but this one had somehow lifted his mood.

The voice on the other end was playful and light, yet tinged with a faint sadness, perfectly expressing the subtle feelings of a woman secretly in love with Lancaster.

Monica recalled seeing her dejection a few days ago and immediately understood why she liked singing this song.

"Love?"

Albert Wilson's eyes softened with a light smile, and he murmured softly before reaching out to take the phone.

On the other end, Cynthia sang for a while but grew bored. She casually handed the phone back to Fredy, her head growing heavier and her vision blurring.

Fredy quickly caught the phone, trembling as he called out,

"Sir..."

"Don't hang up yet!"

His deep voice came through the receiver.

At that moment, the clock struck twelve, and the surrounding crowd began to cheer and hug each other, wishing everyone a happy new year. The joy and festivity seemed to infect Cynthia as well.

She lightly fluttered forward, like a beautiful butterfly, rushing into the crowd and hugging everyone while wishing them a happy new year. Fredy gasped, holding the phone with one hand and reaching out with the other, scrambling to follow her and pulling her back to prevent her from blowing kisses everywhere.

On the other end, Albert Wilson listened to the chaos and furrowed his brows deeper, his voice growing darker.

"Fredy, what's going on?"

Fredy wiped his sweat, hesitating and unsure how to explain.

"Uh... well... Madam is... hugging the people around her... exchanging new year wishes..."

To save his own skin, he didn't mention the kisses flying everywhere, but tried to downplay the situation as much as possible. Still, he soon heard a deafening shout from the other side.

"Go get her back!"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

Fredy answered quickly and rushed after her.

But his old bones were already unable to move quickly, and she was so light and nimble, while the crowd was so dense. Before long, he was left standing anxiously at a distance, watching helplessly.

At that moment, suddenly, a melodious tune began to drift from somewhere, low and mellow, growing more spacious and distant in the quiet night sky. The once noisy crowd gradually quieted down, for there was a subtle sadness in the music, as if it carried... a longing for home...

The music began somewhat sorrowfully, but soon became cheerful, and the hearts of the crowd lifted in unison. Meanwhile, a girl in the crowd, light on her feet, danced and twirled gracefully out of the crowd.

She wore a black short down jacket and camel-colored snow boots, her figure slender and well-proportioned. Her wine-red hair was seductive and alluring, and beneath it was a delicate and beautiful face, untouched by makeup, with a charming smile at the corners of her lips.

She danced gracefully with the music, moving in sync with the changing rhythm—sometimes joyful, sometimes sorrowful. Her movements seemed to suggest she was professionally trained, as she seamlessly matched every beat, her dance flowing perfectly with the music.

She smiled gently the entire time, and her eyes seemed to take in everyone yet remain focused solely on herself. Her bright smile outshone the brilliant fireworks filling the sky.

In no time, she had amazed the entire crowd. Actually, Cynthia herself had no idea what she was doing. The alcohol had dulled her rationality. When she was sober, she would always remember her mother's teachings and would never dance so carelessly in front of so many people.

But now, her mind was a complete blur, and she only wanted to follow her feelings and do something. She vaguely recognized the song as a famous Australian ballad about longing for home, and at that moment, she too was missing certain people and things, so she couldn't help but start dancing.

Fredy, still holding the phone, was stunned. The crowd was fervently discussing who this fairy-like woman was. He had always known who she was, but... in this moment, he too wiped his eyes in disbelief.

While still dazed, a loud roar suddenly reached his ears:

"Fredy!"

He didn't hear the first call, nor the second or third. After several more calls, he finally snapped back to reality, only to realize that his eardrums seemed to have gone numb from the force of the shout.

In a panic, he rushed forward, grabbed the happily dancing woman, and pulled her out of the crowd. He shoved her into the car, ordered the driver to hurry and drive off.

On the square, after the girl disappeared, the music abruptly stopped. The crowd instantly erupted in boos. Some sharp-eyed individuals looked in the direction the music had come from, but all they saw was a rigid back disappearing into the night.

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In the darkness, the figure tightly gripped the harmonica in his hand. He had followed her out right after she left the small apartment. He watched as she drank alone in solitude, heard her softly humming a song, and saw the man's butler chasing after her.

The lively atmosphere here reminded him of his homeland, his family, the relatives who had tragically died at the hands of that monster. Unconsciously, he raised the harmonica in his hands and began to play.

He never expected someone to join in with his melody, and he certainly didn't expect that person to be her. When he saw her tipsily dancing to his music, he admitted that his cold, heartless heart tightened painfully in that moment.

He couldn't deny that her dance astonished him, and he couldn't deny that his feelings for the girl who had saved his life went beyond gratitude. He had an urge to protect her, to keep her safe and cherish her...

But, in his current state of having nothing, wandering aimlessly, it probably wasn't the right time to do something so reckless, let alone talk about love.

Looking up at the foreign sky, his cold eyes gradually filled with murderous intent. Perhaps, it was time for him to leave. Time to go and reclaim what was once his.

When the day came that he became invincible, when he was powerful beyond measure, only then would he have the right to stand beside certain people, confidently say to her, "Please, let me protect you, Wilson."

In the speeding car, Fredy, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced back at the woman in the back seat, who had been smiling nonstop—no, it was more of a silly smile, likely from the alcohol taking effect.

He carefully held the phone and said, "Master, we're heading home now. Do you want to speak with Madam?"

There was silence on the other end, likely from anger so intense that he couldn't speak. Fredy, understanding, handed the phone back to the woman in the back seat. Cynthia giggled as she took the phone.

"Hmm? Who's calling?"

Who would remember her and call her? A lonely person like her...

"Master—"

Fredy wiped the sweat from his brow, praying she wouldn't forget who the Master was.

However, it was as if she saw through his thoughts. Tilting her head and furrowing her delicate brows, she opened her mouth and asked, "Master? Who's that?"