Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 30 - - I want a divorce!

However, Cynthia was in the Amazon and had no idea that during this week, the city had been turned upside down by him, and even the entire country was being scoured in his search for her.

Meanwhile, Albert Wilson, who had run off in a hurry, was sitting in his car, irritably raking his fingers through his hair. He couldn't quite understand what was happening to him. After learning she had returned, he was inexplicably eager to see her, and he had gone to such extreme lengths to find her.

He should have been focusing on his own plans, step by step humiliating the Lancaster family and destroying them. Instead, he had become so preoccupied with her disappearance that he hadn't slept well all week and had lost his motivation for work.

He remembered Monica, who had worked several extra shifts with him, saying with a pained expression, "Boss, are you going insane?"

Forget it, forget it. He started the car, trying to comfort himself. He was just fulfilling his responsibility as a husband; his wife was missing, and he had a duty to find her.

Nothing more than that. Yes! It had to be that way!

After Cynthia turned on the phone he had given her, it beeped continuously with text notifications about missed calls. In the past, when she went out, almost no one would look for her. Bonnie usually notified her in advance, and occasionally, there would be a wrong number.

Why were there so many this time? She curled up on the sofa, scrolling through her messages until her hand hurt, only to discover that all the missed calls were from him. Suddenly, she began to understand the anger he had just shown.

But why was he looking for her?

She hesitated, holding the phone and wondering whether to call him. He hadn't said much earlier, so it probably wasn't anything important. But he had made so many calls...

Feeling a headache coming on, she decided against calling him and threw the phone down. She got up to tidy her things and take a shower. As soon as she stepped into the bathroom, she screamed in fright. The once-simple vanity was now cluttered with a plethora of men's items: toothbrushes, mouthwash, shower gel, shampoo, razors, and so on. Each of those shower gels and shampoos was a high-end luxury brand.

Used to her own two or three items, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of such an array of expensive goods and mistakenly thought she had walked into someone else's bathroom.

After standing there in shock for a moment, she rushed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Sure enough, there were signs that someone had slept in the bed, and hanging on the nearby rack was a men's robe—a silver-gray silk robe—that made her involuntarily think of that man.

Suppressing the urge to throw the clothes out, she turned back to the living room, grabbed her phone, and called him without any hesitation this time.

When the call connected, her tone was anything but pleasant. The world she had been guarding so carefully had been suddenly interrupted, and this feeling of instability made her extremely upset.

"What's going on with the stuff in my house?"

He seemed taken aback for a moment but quickly responded nonchalantly, "What do you mean, 'what's going on'?"

His tone still carried traces of the anger from earlier.

She made an effort to calm herself and gritted her teeth as she replied, "The things you left here!"

"Oh, I stayed there for a few days," he said casually, as if he were talking about something trivial, though it was highly distressing for her.

During the first few days when he couldn't reach her, he had simply decided to stay at her place, waiting for her to return unexpectedly. After a few days of waiting, he eventually gave up and stopped going over.

Cynthia took a deep breath—another deep breath—and then one last deep breath—finally, she said calmly, "So, Mr. Wilson, now that you've stayed, shouldn't you take your things with you?"

He innocently replied, "Why should I take them away?"

She was at a loss for words, standing there for a while without being able to think of a rebuttal. Seeing her silent, he continued casually, "Your little place is quite cozy; I'm very interested in staying longer!"

"Sorry, but I'm not interested!" she coldly interrupted him, her heart burning with a small flame of anger.

Then she heard him chuckle on the other end, "Isn't it a bit hurtful to talk like this to your husband?"

"I don't believe there's any affection between us. If you have the time, please come and take your things; otherwise, I'll just throw them away as garbage!" She said this irritably before hanging up the phone.

Hadn't this man just stormed off in anger? How was he now joking with her in such a good mood? He was truly unpredictable and neurotic.

After putting down her phone, she grabbed a bag and stuffed all his things into it, thinking that if he didn't come to take them, she would really throw them away. Although it felt like a waste to get rid of so many luxury items, it was still better than having them cluttering her space every day.

Meanwhile, Albert Wilson stared at the phone after she hung up, a subtle smile appearing on his handsome face. He found it quite amusing to spar with her like this, and the anger that had been brewing inside him dissipated with her little outburst.

Just as Cynthia finished tidying up his things, her phone rang; it was Bonnie calling.

"Cynthia, you're finally back!"

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Bonnie's exclamation came through the receiver, and she lay on the couch, weakly asking, "Yeah, what's up?"

"Your husband is looking for you!"

Bonnie's tone clearly carried a teasing hint.

Cynthia rubbed her forehead and sighed softly, "Oh, Laurence—"

"Okay, okay, I admit it! I just wanted to have a moment of fun with my words!" Bonnie quickly begged for mercy, her tone shifting away from the earlier jest.

"Albert Wilson called me looking for you!"

"What's he up to? How did you even find out?" Cynthia complained unhappily. She felt like her privacy was being invaded; she would have to be more careful when she visited the orphanage. What on earth did this man want?

Bonnie recounted what had happened that night, and in the end, she said to Cynthia earnestly, "From the way he spoke that night, he seemed quite anxious. Maybe he's just worried about you!"

Cynthia scoffed, a cold snort escaping her. How could he possibly care about her? She had seen him with that woman more than once, all lovey-dovey. She was convinced that he was only looking for her because he had something to deal with.

On the other end of the line, Bonnie laughed ambiguously, "By the way, Cynthia, you and Albert Wilson really make a good match. They say you're a couple of talents—perfectly suited for each other! He's so handsome and wealthy; why not... put in some effort to keep him? Then you wouldn't have to suffer so much in this life!"

"Oh, Laurence—please stop dreaming!"

Cynthia wished she could find something to knock some sense into her friend's head.

Her best friend was attractive, well-built, capable, and talented, but she had no resistance to handsome guys. Although Bonnie also carried some burdens, they were not as heavy as Cynthia's, which made Bonnie's thoughts much simpler and more naive.

In truth, people must experience all kinds of ups and downs in life to learn and grow. The more one experiences, the more indifferent the heart becomes, and the more stable one's temperament is. Perhaps one day, Bonnie will understand that opening one's arms doesn't necessarily mean being able to support the future.

Just after hanging up on Bonnie, another call came in—it was Vincent again. After thinking for a moment, she pressed the answer button. He had called just a moment ago, but before she could pick up, that man had smashed her phone.

"Vincent, what's up?"

She asked calmly, her finger unconsciously tracing the raised dragon pattern on the back of her phone, the texture making her heart feel increasingly desolate.

"Cynthia, how... how have you been these past few days?"

Vincent hesitated for a long time before he managed to ask this question.

Since she got married, he had never had the courage to call her. He was afraid to hear her say she was happy, but also afraid to hear she was unhappy. She rarely returned to the Lancaster family, and now that she was married, it was even less likely. This made it even harder for him to see her.

She mercilessly cut off all his thoughts with Grace Lancaster's name.

"Did my second sister ask you to call and check on me? Please thank her for me; I'm doing fine, no need to worry!"

Vincent felt a pang in his heart.

"Cynthia, must we speak to each other in such a hurtful way?"

"Vincent, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to still be sweet with you, behind my sister's back, being your mistress?"

Her words were dripping with sarcasm, but Vincent grew anxious.

"Cynthia, how can you say that about me? I could never bear to make you my mistress! If you're willing to come back to me, I will divorce her and marry you openly!"

Upon hearing Vincent mention divorce, she suddenly felt a wave of panic and quickly said,

"Stop saying such nonsense! Grace Lancaster would go crazy, and you can't handle the consequences! If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up!"

She was sure that if Vincent proposed divorce, Grace would be completely shattered. With her strong and proud personality, she might even consider suicide.

But Vincent was unusually firm, stopping her.

"Cynthia, this is a decision I've thought about for a long time: I want a divorce!"