Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 33 - - Sleeping together?

After class, the first thing Cynthia did was rush home to grab that bag of his stuff, just so she wouldn't forget again. Since he hadn't come to pick it up, she figured she'd take this chance to bring it over to him herself.

It was late May, nearly June, and the weather was warming up. The broad road was lined with lush greenery, and as she strolled leisurely, she enjoyed the peacefulness of this quiet moment.

No wonder the wealthy chose to build private villas by the sea or in secluded suburbs; this kind of calm, far from the bustle of the city, was truly enchanting.

A car horn sounded behind her. She turned to see his car had already pulled up beside her. He had brought a different car today—a black Maybach, understated but exuding a subtle sharpness.

He rolled down the window, gesturing for her to get in. Perhaps to match today's car, he was dressed all in black, giving off a cool, distant aura, as if even the hot sun overhead had dimmed a few degrees.

She considered it for a moment, then opened the door and got in. After all, they had to put on a show of being a loving couple returning together. He glanced at the bag she was holding and asked coolly,

"What are you carrying?"

She looked down at her hands. One bag contained his belongings, and the other was a bag of fruit she had bought. She had always believed in the custom of not visiting others empty-handed, so she had stopped by the fruit shop to pick up a few things

Of course, he could easily recognize the bag of fruit, so he was clearly asking about the other one.

"These are the things you left at my place. I thought I'd bring them over to save you a trip," she replied, tilting her head slightly, her expression calm. She then noticed his face darken.

Albert Wilson felt a surge of frustration, a stinging sense of being pushed away—and by a woman, no less. A woman who, legally speaking, was still his wife. This woman was utterly clueless when it came to romance. What on earth did Vincent even see in her?

He truly couldn't understand it. There had once been a time when her heart was filled with warmth, with tender smiles, a clear, gentle gaze, and a shy charm. Unfortunately, when he met her, she was in a place of extreme psychological turmoil and emotional withdrawal.

He stopped the car, turned off the engine, and without looking back, strode into the house, not sparing her a single glance. He looked like a sulky, stubborn child throwing a tantrum, seemingly forgetting that he had invited her over just to keep up appearances for his father. He hadn't even waited to get inside before leaving her out in the cold.

She wasn't bothered—after all, it wasn't her loss. She slowly got out, took her bags, and headed inside. Two figures emerged from the brightly lit house: Wilson's butler and Diego.

The old man, clearly not recognizing her as the heavily made-up woman from their wedding, initially thought he'd brought another woman home and was about to raise his hand to smack him when she interjected with a light laugh.

"Mr. Diego!"

He paused, his steps quickening as he approached her, taking a moment to look her over. Since she'd expected no outsiders, she'd come with a fresh, bare face, her serene features accentuated by a simple white dress that made her look all the more graceful and ethereal.

She was a beauty, having inherited all her mother's good looks, and now with the wisdom life had instilled in her, she exuded a calm and peaceful aura. Albert Wilson, standing in the lit corridor, couldn't help but stare at her in her white dress, momentarily captivated.

"Are you... Cynthia?"

The old man's eyes sparkled with surprise as she nodded with a smile.

The butler, who'd seen her bare face that morning, wasn't as shocked and eagerly stepped forward, taking the bags from her hands. "Madam, please come inside for dinner!"

Only then did Diego, delighted, take her hand and lead her in, exclaiming, "Good! Good!" He completely ignored the scowling figure still standing by the door. Who could've guessed that JC's wife would look like this without makeup—so graceful, gentle, and with such a lovely, quiet charm? Diego thought to himself that if Albert ever mistreated her, he'd be the first to object. It was understandable that the old man felt this way; after all, Albert was the first of his four sons to marry, and watching his child build a life stirred up all sorts of emotions in him.

Albert Wilson let out a long, frustrated sigh into the distant sky before finally turning and stepping into the house.

At the dinner table, Diego kept piling food into Cynthia's bowl, saying, "Come, Cynthia, eat more! Look how thin you are—how will you bear children like this?"

At that moment, Cynthia was in the middle of a spoonful of soup. Diego's words made her choke on it; she couldn't swallow or spit it out. After an agonizing moment, she finally sprayed it out ungracefully.

Startled, Diego leaned in, asking her worriedly, "Cynthia, are you alright?"

Flustered, she grabbed a napkin and hastily dabbed at herself, while across the table, Albert shot her a fierce glare, his face dark with irritation. Blushing, she managed to stammer to Diego, "I'm—fine!"

Inwardly, she fumed. This old man was going overboard, talking about having children as if they were a real married couple! Discussing something like having kids with her—a student still in school—was beyond embarrassing.

Seeing she was alright, the old man put down his chopsticks and began to speak earnestly.

"Sigh, I know young people these days don't want kids right away; you all want to enjoy a few more years as just the two of you. But can't you think of us old folks who don't have much time left? Imagine how wonderful it would be to hold a grandchild before I go..."

"Cynthia! Cynthia?"

She drifted back to reality, realizing the old man had been calling her name. She forced a smile and looked up at him.

"Where did you go a few days ago? You left without a word. Did you know he was looking—"

"Ahem—"

"I went on a trip," Cynthia interjected, glancing at the two of them with a calm expression.

"A trip?"

The old man, who had been munching on ribs, perked up immediately.

"Why didn't you take Albert with you? Speaking of trips—"

He turned to the still-silent Albert Wilson.

"You two haven't gone on a honeymoon yet. Find a time to take a trip together!"

"No need!" Cynthia quickly interrupted, catching the old man's curious look and a dark glare from Albert. She forced an awkward smile and explained.

"Haha! Albert's work keeps him so busy. He's tied up every day. A honeymoon isn't necessary—I'm not bothered by such things!"

A honeymoon with him? No way! Living with him every day was suffocating enough; a vacation together would be pure misery, bordering on a recipe for depression or worse.

The way she had said "Albert" so naturally and casually made both the old man and Albert Wilson pause, surprised. Albert gave her a complicated look and said lightly,

"I just finished a big project, so I'll have Jim make arrangements tomorrow."

The old man beamed, but Cynthia was fuming inside. With the old man there, she couldn't voice her frustration, so she could only glare at Albert in silence. If looks could kill, he'd have died under her glare a thousand times by now.

But he was unfazed, calmly continuing his meal. Seeing the smug smile lurking at the corners of his eyes, she lost her appetite completely. After a few bites, she used the excuse of being full to escape upstairs.

As her mind raced, she heard a noise at the door. A second later, his tall figure stepped into the room. Startled, she asked,

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freёnovelkiss.com.

"H-how did you get in?"

She was sure she had locked the door just moments ago.

He casually held up a key, looking completely at ease.

"This is my house. Why wouldn't I be able to come in?"

She stared at the key in his hand, speechless, as he tossed it onto the table and began unbuttoning his shirt. Alarm bells went off in her mind. Was he planning to stay here tonight?

Seeing him slip off his jacket, she quickly spoke up.

"Wait a minute!"

"What is it?"

He gave her a sidelong glance, but his hands didn't stop moving. She took a deep breath, trying to keep calm.

"Are you planning to sleep here tonight?"

"What else would you expect?"

He pulled off his tie, his long fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt collar. She hurriedly asked,

"Then... what about me?"

"Of course, you're sleeping here too."