Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 91 - 89- answer

Cynthia was his legitimate wife, and if by chance she became pregnant with his child, her hopes of marrying him would be completely dashed. Even if he divorced his wife and married her, things would never be the same.

Lucca had once believed that he would never be interested in that woman, his nominal wife. But on the morning after their wedding night, she had noticed the deep, unmistakable marks on his neck, scratches that clearly showed he had been with her—and in a forceful manner, no less.

That was when she realized the severity of the situation. In their past, it was always the women who tried to please him, but given his pride, he would never stoop to such low, degrading behavior. Yet he had done so, and it was with that woman. That's why she lost control and resorted to drastic measures.

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Albert Wilson glanced down at the woman in his arms. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. His eyes narrowed with a hint of rejection as he spoke coldly, "Lucca, you know I've been busy handling the aftermath of the shooting incident these days. I'm exhausted..."

As soon as he mentioned the shooting case, Lucca's interest faded. She knew he harbored resentment toward her for this, and upon hearing his words, she wisely stopped pushing her advances.

Seeing that she had stopped, Albert didn't insist on leaving. He took a shower and headed to his study to work. Lucca followed him in, hesitating for a moment before speaking up.

"Albert... today... Karl contacted her."

Albert Wilson's gaze shifted from the computer screen to her with a flash of sharpness. "What did Karl want with her?"

The mention of the other woman caused Albert's emotions to flare, and Lucca noticed the change in his expression. Though she felt a wave of irritation at his reaction, she held it back and continued, "Karl said he wanted to send her abroad to study, to stop her from saying anything foolish to Vincent."

"What?" Albert Wilson's voice became dangerously low, and his eyes darkened with anger. "What does Karl think of me, that he can just send my wife away without consulting me?"

Lucca hesitated, seeing the storm brewing in his eyes, but she pressed on cautiously. "She agreed to it. She even took the check Karl gave her. She said she'd leave if you allowed her to go."

A look of pure rage crossed Albert's face as he heard those words. That woman had taken Karl's check? Did she have no self-respect left? And she wanted to leave so badly, to distance herself from him like this? His eyes were filled with fury, as if he could kill someone on the spot.

Lucca smiled to herself, feeling satisfied. This was exactly what she wanted—to see him so visibly disturbed by that woman. Gently, she walked over to him, leaning into his embrace and speaking in a soft, almost childlike tone, "Albert, why don't you just let her go? You know that the reason things are so bad between us now is because of her."

Albert Wilson remained silent, his lips pressed tight. Lucca, sensing his mood, continued, her voice tinged with a hint of hurt, "I've only acted out because of how you treat her, and it's made me do foolish things. If she leaves, you'll go back to being the same with me, and I'll be good for you again, I swear."

After a long pause, Albert Wilson gently pushed her away, his voice cold and indifferent. "Go to sleep. I'll think about it."

"Albert—" Lucca tried to press him for an answer, her voice sweet and pleading, but the moment he locked eyes with her, his gaze turned sharp and cold. She recoiled slightly, feeling the intensity of his look, and reluctantly pulled away from him.

This man, even though she had known him since childhood, still remained a mystery to her. Over the years, she had never been able to fully understand his thoughts, let alone predict his moods.

As Lucca disappeared behind the door, Albert Wilson lit a cigarette and walked toward the window. His tall, lean figure cast a shadow in the dim light of the room. Outside, the city lights shimmered, but his mind was far from the peaceful scene before him.

"Study abroad?" The words repeated in his mind, unsettled. A year had passed, and something between him and that woman had changed—something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Every time they met, it inevitably ended in conflict, but he still found himself drawn to her, a pull he could not explain. It wasn't like him at all.

The cigarette burned down to the filter in his hand, and as he lit another, he found himself still unsure. Should he let her go, or hold on? The question lingered in his mind, without an answer.

The next morning, Lucca awoke to find that Albert Wilson was already gone. The bed beside her showed no signs of anyone having slept there. Trembling, she pushed open the guest bedroom door, and a cold unease settled deep in her chest. He had stayed here after all.

After leaving Lucca's apartment, Albert had driven straight to Cynthia's small flat. Yesterday, he had intentionally left her with an ambiguous message, wondering where that woman would be waiting for him now.

When his car pulled up outside her building, he received a call from Lucca.

"Albert, why did you leave without saying anything?"

"I saw you were still asleep, so I didn't want to wake you."

He said this while glancing up at her sixth-floor apartment through the car window.

"Albert, about last night... have you thought about it?" Lucca asked, her voice tinged with urgency. She couldn't wait any longer. After his cold indifference toward her, she couldn't just let that woman be.

Before he could answer, a cry escaped his lips.

"Cynthia—"

The line went dead with a sharp click, and Lucca froze, staring at the phone in her hand, unable to process what had just happened. He had gone to see that woman first thing in the morning?

On the other end, Albert Wilson had been talking to Lucca when he suddenly saw a woman stumble out from the hallway. She was clutching her stomach in agony, her face pale and contorted with pain.

His heart sank, and without another word to Lucca, he ended the call and rushed out of the car.

At the base of the stairs, Cynthia was biting her lip, trying to withstand the sharp cramps in her stomach. She stretched out her hand, barely managing to flag down a taxi.

The night before, Cynthia had suddenly started her period. At first, she experienced some mild cramping, so she quickly drank some brown sugar water and cuddled with a hot water bottle to ease the discomfort. However, the pain didn't subside; in fact, it grew worse and more intense.

By morning, the pain had become unbearable. She curled up in bed, shivering uncontrollably. In a foggy haze, memories of two years ago flooded her mind—the first period she had after enduring a freezing night in the snow. She had experienced that same excruciating pain, feeling like she might just die from it, wishing for it all to end.

At that time, she had still been living in the school dormitory. She had tossed and turned in agony throughout the night, scaring her friends Bonnie and Vivian, who rushed her to the school's clinic in the middle of the night. The doctor had diagnosed it as severe dysmenorrhea caused by catching a cold, which had also led to menstrual irregularities.

After that, she had been cautious and took extra care of her health. Each period after that had been less painful, although the flow had decreased significantly. But this time, the pain was back with a vengeance, and she feared it was because of the cold she had caught during the banquet.

It had been such a cold day, and she had run out barefoot to chase after the ambulance, sitting on the icy ground for a long time. Of course, she had caught a cold. But in the past, Bonnie and the others had been there for her. Now, she was alone.