Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 29 - - she’s your wife

"Albert Wilson!"

The man calmly uttered those three words, and Bonnie let out a long sigh of relief. Of course, once he mentioned his name, she knew he was looking for Cynthia.

"Wilson, she's your wife. How would I know where she is? Ever since she moved out, we've hardly been in touch!"

Bonnie mustered a lot of courage to respond to him coldly. After all, she had seen this man chasing after another woman on the day of his wedding, and she genuinely felt it was unfair for Cynthia.

But to be honest, she really didn't know where Cynthia had gone this time. Cynthia was always elusive; she had grown accustomed to her unpredictable lifestyle and had learned not to worry about her.

He calmly countered her,

"Although she is my wife, I can't reach her right now, so I hope you can cooperate!"

"Sorry, I don't know either!"

After hanging up, Bonnie hurriedly called the orphanage to ask if Cynthia had spent the night there. Sometimes, when she was too exhausted, she would stay overnight since her bedding and other things were there.

The orphanage staff replied,

"Miss Lancaster and Marc went out for a job today, but we don't know how many days they'll be gone."

As soon as Bonnie heard that she had gone out with Marc, she finally relaxed. She hesitated but decided not to tell Albert Wilson about this; she figured Cynthia wouldn't want him to know about her current situation.

Meanwhile, Albert Wilson had mobilized all available resources, and as the days passed, Cynthia remained uncontactable. After experiencing extreme anger and worry, his mindset gradually returned to normal.

A week later, the person stationed downstairs at her apartment informed him that she had returned. Without thinking twice, he rushed out, oblivious to the financial professionals and political figures from various countries attending the International Financial Summit behind him.

Cynthia dragged her tired body up to the sixth floor and, not bothering to take a shower, collapsed onto the sofa. Just a day after her wedding, she had received a call saying that Marc had taken a job. Not wanting to disrupt her honeymoon, he decided to go alone.

She hurriedly rushed to the orphanage after hanging up the phone. Marc's health was already deteriorating, especially during those grueling surgeries. Over the years, she had been his assistant in many surgeries, allowing him to complete them smoothly. How could he possibly handle this alone?

Marc was adamantly against it, so she had to persuade him earnestly.

"Marc, this marriage is just a formality for me; you don't need to take it so seriously!"

With a guilty expression, Marc replied, "Cynthia, I'm sorry. If we didn't urgently need money to buy bone marrow for those two children with bone cancer, I wouldn't have taken this job at this time!"

She looked at Marc with a smile, her face filled with determination.

"Since I've chosen this path, I will walk it with unwavering resolve. No matter how difficult or tiring it gets, I will never give up!"

This time, they were heading to the Amazon jungle. Their work was essentially that of field medics for a group of people who often found themselves in bloody conflicts. When injured, they couldn't go to a hospital due to their identities, so they always had to find a few doctors with good skills on short notice, and such work was typically looked down upon by regular hospital doctors.

Just as she was dozing off, the door was suddenly thrown open with a bang. Before she could react to the shock, she was abruptly lifted from the sofa, and a thunderous roar rang in her ears.

"Where have you been these past few days?"

Staring at the man who had burst in suddenly, she blinked her confused eyes and took a long time to snap back to reality. After a few days apart, she felt he was somewhat unfamiliar; his handsome face had lost its former elegance and appeared a bit tired, even with a hint of worry.

She thought she must be too tired these days, which made her see things differently. How could he care about her well-being? After the wedding, he should be wholeheartedly by the side of the person he truly cared for, treating her like a stranger from then on.

So why was he now furiously appearing at her home? Struggling a bit, she said unhappily, "Can you let go of me first?"

She was already exhausted to the point of nearly falling apart. Being lifted like this by him made her instinctively furrow her little brow in pain.

"Tell me! Where have you been these past few days?"

His tone was explosive as he coldly questioned her, then suddenly let her go. Due to the force, she fell heavily onto the sofa.

His tall figure loomed over her like a mountain, making her feel an immense sense of oppression. Biting her lip, she didn't look up at him and simply said, "I'm tired. Can't you just let me rest for a bit?"

"Traveling!"

"Trav—el—ing?"

Each of his words was squeezed out between his teeth, sending a wave of discomfort through her scalp, yet she still kept her head down, silent.

Albert Wilson stared at her indifferent expression, wishing he could kill her. He no longer knew how to express the anger boiling inside him. How could she have such a good time? On the first day of their honeymoon, the bride went missing—only to find out she had gone off traveling alone! It would be a laughingstock if word got out!

"Then why is your phone turned off?"

He stepped forward, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

She remained indifferent, her eyes clear, and responded with a few calm words, "It ran out of battery!"

From the very first day, that group had confiscated her and Marc's phones. They were most afraid of these outsiders tipping off anyone.

"Out of battery since the first day?"

He tightened his grip on her chin, showcasing his rising anger.

"Mm!"

She turned her eyes away, acknowledging him. Though her expression remained calm, her heart was trembling violently.

She had been through some things, having experienced life and death on the operating table, witnessed the bloody scenes, yet she had never felt as terrified as she did in front of this man.

Such a man was poison, a curse—drawing people in irresistibly, leading them to an inescapable downfall.

Her silence stifled the rage he desperately wanted to unleash. If she had argued or made a scene, it would have provided him with the opportunity to vent his frustrations, easing his gloomy mood. But she remained composed.

He didn't move, and she maintained her silence. After a while, he coldly released his grip on her chin, leaving a deep red bruise on her fair skin.

"Cynthia, you really are selfish!"

He mocked her while glancing at the outdated phone she had left on the table. With its worn-out casing, it was no wonder it wouldn't work.

"From now on, use this phone," he said, tossing another phone beside her. "You must keep it turned on 24/7!"

He had prepared this phone for her ever since the first day he couldn't get in touch with her.

The phone was an internal, exclusive model from BlackRock, intended only for partners or those they cared about. As long as it was turned on, no matter where she was, BlackRock's positioning system could locate her instantly.

Cynthia was somewhat surprised. She glanced up at him and then tilted her head to look at the phone. The silver-gray casing emitted a calm, sharp light. The back was facing up, and she immediately spotted the fierce dragon design that made it hard to look directly at it.

"There's no need to go to such trouble; my phone still works—"

Before she could finish her sentence, her old phone rang. Just as she reached for it, he snatched it away.

However, she caught a glimpse of the caller ID: Vincent. She had deleted his number but saved it again after deciding to marry the man in front of her. She told herself she needed to gradually get used to seeing him as a stranger.

"It still works, does it?"

He glanced at the caller ID and coldly asked, his already pale face suddenly taking on a terrifying hue.

She was momentarily speechless as she watched him grip her old phone and violently smash it against the wall. After a deafening crash, the phone lay in shattered pieces on the floor, reduced to a pile of wreckage.

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Cynthia was startled by his rough action and jumped up from the sofa, covering her mouth. She glanced at the mess on the ground and then back at him with a look of sheer terror, her pale lips parted as if to speak but no words came out.

Albert Wilson cast her a cold glance. Her hands trembled visibly, revealing how genuinely scared she was. He snorted and turned to leave, slamming her security door with a thunderous bang.

After a while, Cynthia finally snapped out of the overwhelming fear. She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart before slowly walking over to sift through the debris to find her SIM card, which she then inserted into the silver-gray phone.

Was this man insane? She had only been missing for a week—this shouldn't concern him at all, right? As his legitimate wife, she was turning a blind eye to his relationship with his beloved. Wasn't he supposed to be grateful? Yet here he was, breaking things! His temper was indeed something else!