Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 168 - - Cynthia, please

After this bout of passion, Cynthia felt no pleasure at all. Apart from the burning pain in her lower body, there was only an endless ache in her heart and the tear that slid down the corner of her eye.

Once all the panting had settled, he got up, put on his pants, and sat on the edge of the bed to smoke. She lay there with her back to him, curled up, and neither of them spoke. The small space was soon filled with the heavy scent of smoke.

After a long while, Cynthia finally parted her lips, her voice hoarse as she spoke,

"Albert, let me go. Please, let me go..."

The shifting temperatures, the changing distances, the endless cycles—it tormented her fragile heart. She had always been unwilling to part, but now, she had no strength left to bear it.

Albert took several deep drags from his cigarette, then threw the butt on the floor and stamped it out. He stood up, coldly looking down at her, who was shrinking in place, and spoke each word slowly:

"Have you forgotten? I told you I haven't finished using you yet. I'm not done with you. How could I let you go?"

Cynthia, if my hands are stained with blood and I'm headed to hell, then I'll drag you down with me.

Her already fragile body trembled violently. He put on his sweater, then grabbed his coat, wrapping it tightly around her as he lifted her up and started walking out.

She no longer resisted, just closed her eyes and nestled into his arms, letting him carry her. It was as though all her strength had been drained in an instant. The snow outside grew heavier, and he placed her in the car before driving away. The silver-gray car quickly disappeared into the snowstorm.

Fredy heard the sound of a car outside and eagerly went out to greet them, only to see him holding her in his coat, both of them disheveled. He couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh.

Back in the bedroom, Albert immediately carried her toward the bathroom. She suddenly found strength from somewhere, leaping off him and pushing him out forcefully.

"Cynthia—"

His voice was rough and pained as he called her name. He took a step forward, trying to grab her, but was stopped by the door slamming shut in his face.

He leaned against the bathroom door, listening to the sound of the rushing water mixed with her muffled sobs. He took out a cigarette, sucking on it deeply, one drag after another.

Whether he let her go or not, the things he was about to do would only make her hate him more. So, he decided not to let her go. He'd keep her by his side. If there was pain, they would both suffer together.

Cynthia came out of the shower and immediately threw herself onto the bed, not even bothering to dry her wet hair. Albert glanced at her, who was curling up in the blanket, ignoring his presence. With a frown, he stood up, grabbed the hairdryer, and started drying her hair.

Cynthia's body stiffened under the blanket at first, then she shrank into it even tighter, her small face buried deep in the soft pillow. She didn't resist, letting him dry her hair as her tears soaked the pillow next to her.

The warm air from the hairdryer blew on her face, and she felt dizzy. Before she knew it, she drifted into sleep. In her hazy state, she felt her legs gently pulled apart, and something cool was applied to her swollen, sore private area.

The cool fingers, whether intentional or not, casually circled around her soft skin. In her half-dreaming state, she momentarily forgot where she was, unable to resist letting out a soft, involuntary moan in response to the teasing touch.

The next second, her slightly parted red lips were suddenly captured by him. He kissed her desperately, sucking and biting, his lips and tongue storming over her sweetness, making it hard for her to breathe.

In her ears, his breathing grew heavier. She was startled and quickly opened her eyes, only to see his enlarged handsome face right in front of hers, his expression full of intoxication, obsession, and desire. She felt a surge of shame and frustration and pushed his face away.

He stared at her while panting, and after a long while, he calmed down. He turned and got off her, lying down beside her. Albert, frustrated, ran a hand through his hair and turned his back to her. He had intended to apply some ointment to her, knowing that tonight he had acted like an animal, afraid of hurting her.

But she had been so sensitive. Just a slight movement of his hand on her softness made her body respond with continuous secretions, and she even made seductive sounds, causing him to nearly lose control and take her again.

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Cynthia lay there, nervously gripping the blanket, too afraid to even breathe. She had been scared by his roughness and frenzy at the clinic earlier. Now, she really had no mood or interest in doing such things with him.

He didn't touch her again. Instead, he turned away from her, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief, also turning her back to him. They both lay at opposite ends of the large bed, each lost in their own thoughts, before drifting into a deep sleep.

After that, they lived in mutual cold indifference.

He no longer stayed out all night, but he also no longer forced himself on her, likely realizing her unwillingness. They rarely spoke, if at all, fearing that any words might lead to irreparable pain.

As the year came to a close, Cynthia continued to busy herself at the small clinic, just like any other day. The snow in the city this year was especially heavy and persistent. Every morning, she would wake up to see the world outside covered in a thick blanket of white snow.

That day, a familiar customer came into the small clinic, but it was Bonnie, tear-streaked and disheveled. In the freezing cold, she was only wearing a thin sweater, her cheeks red from the cold, looking utterly helpless.

Cynthia immediately rushed over when she saw Bonnie in such a state, pulling her toward her anxiously.

"Bonnie, what happened?"

Bonnie clung to her and started crying hysterically.

"Cynthia, please, save my dad, save my brother—"

Cynthia, startled, pushed Bonnie away and asked in a panic,

"What happened? Did Uncle's heart disease flare up again?"

Bonnie bit her lip, tears flowing uncontrollably, but she couldn't say a word. Cynthia, on the edge of despair, waited for Bonnie to gather herself. After a long moment, Bonnie finally looked up at her, her eyes filled with pleading.

"Cynthia, please talk to Albert. Ask him to let my dad go, to let my brother go. Please?"

Cynthia's face turned pale, and she gripped the table, muttering to herself,

"No, didn't we hear that the Laurence family got financial aid and everything was back to normal?"

Bonnie forced a bitter smile.

"Everything's back to normal, but you still don't know what Vice President Wilson is like, do you? Do you think he'll just let it go?"

Cynthia bit her lip, silent. Yes, knowing his personality, there was no way he would just let it slide. He had always been used to controlling everything. There was never anyone who could stop him from doing what he wanted.

Bonnie continued,

"In just a few months, he's taken over the Laurence family's finances again, and this time, his methods are so ruthless that he hasn't given us any chance to recover. The Laurence family, which was doing fine, collapsed overnight..."

When Bonnie said this, a deep pain appeared on her face. Even though she hadn't personally been involved in the Laurence family's business, and even though she didn't care much about the family's wealth, thinking about how her father and brother's years of hard work had been ruined in an instant, she still felt an unbearable sadness.