Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 94 - - Cynthia, don’t cry!

Monica was startled by his sudden, rough movement. She stood there, nervously staring at him, her large eyes filled with fear. Why did it feel like he was about to swallow her whole? Oh my God! How terrifying!

Seeing her rare, cautious demeanor, Jim couldn't help but soften his expression a little. He glared at her, gripping the damp file, and turned to head back to his office.

Monica, seeing that he wasn't angry, blinked her bright eyes, and after a moment, she smiled and stepped in front of him.

"What are you going to do now?"

Jim took a few steps back, keeping a distance from her. At this point, he viewed this woman as a venomous snake, though she certainly embodied the allure of a femme fatale.

Monica didn't mind his retreat. Instead, she continued to smile sweetly, drawing closer to him, pushing him until he was cornered against the door. With her flirtatious gaze, she finally spoke in a soft voice,

"Do you know why I acted so out of line just now? Because... our boss said he brought lunch today!"

"What?"

Jim's mouth fell open, large enough to fit an egg.

A sly glint flashed in Monica's eyes as her sweet face moved even closer to him.

"So, JC, how about we make a bet?"

The scent of her perfume was so sweet and intoxicating that Jim's mind went blank. He forgot all about the times she had messed with him in the past and, dumbfounded, asked,

"What bet?"

Seeing him fall for it, Monica took a small step back and leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms.

"We bet on who made the boss's lunch!"

Before he could say anything, she continued,

"I bet it's little Cynthia!"

Jim regained some composure.

"I also bet it's little Cynthia!"

"Hey, Jim, how can we have a winner if we both bet on the same thing?"

She pouted and glared at him, clearly displeased.

Her adorable appearance made Jim's heart waver once again. What was going on? Why did he feel like this woman, this seductress, was getting more beautiful by the day—beautiful enough to mesmerize him.

Right now, his usually sharp mind was in complete chaos. He blankly followed her words, asking,

"So, what should we do?"

Monica rolled her eyes at him.

"What else can we do? I'll bet it's little Cynthia who made it, and you bet it's Lucca, fine!"

Jim finally found some resistance.

"Why would I bet on Lucca? I also think it's little Cynthia!"

"I don't care, we can't bet on the same person!"

Monica ignored his complaint and turned to grab her phone, dialing Cynthia's number.

"Hey, little Cynthia, do you know what our boss had for lunch today?"

"Curryy rice!"

Cynthia was a little confused. Why was Monica suddenly calling her to ask this? She had prepared the lunch herself, so of course, she knew what he ate.

"OH, YEAH! Little Cynthia, I love you, mwah!"

Monica kissed the phone enthusiastically before turning around and grinning triumphantly at Jim, whose face had already turned ashen. Gone was the earlier seductive look, replaced by a victorious smile.

"Did you hear that? It was little Cynthia who made it. Assistant Long, you lost!"

Damn that man! How dare he mock her by saying she'd never find a man? Hmph! She was never going to let him off! He better not find a girlfriend, or if he did, she'd make sure it went wrong!

"..."

Jim was about to spit blood. She didn't even give him a chance to voice his opinion, just forced him to bet on Lucca. Could he not lose?

"Alright, alright, we'll meet at the boss's bar this weekend for drinks. You're paying, and no leaving until you're drunk!"

Monica pushed him out of her office, her graceful figure heading straight toward Albert Wilson's office.

Albert Wilson had just heated his lunch in the microwave and was walking out of the break room when he saw his beautiful secretary rush in without knocking. He was already uneasy about the lunch, and her loud entrance startled him so much that he almost dropped the box.

"Monica, as a senior secretary, don't you know the basic etiquette of knocking before entering someone's office?"

Albert Wilson glared at her in annoyance and scolded her.

"Bro—"

Monica quickly realized she had been rude and tried to make an excuse.

"Bro, I heard you brought lunch, so I came in to see what you brought. What if you're working so hard you're skipping meals, and I'm just trying to make sure you're not pretending?"

But in her heart, she was thinking, "Forget the senior secretary act, in front of others, I'm graceful and composed." She took a few steps toward him, then looked at the perfectly aromatic lunch in the box and couldn't help but smile secretly.

A slight red hue appeared on Albert Wilson's handsome face. Gritting his teeth, he said,

"Once you've seen it, you can leave!"

"Okay, okay, boss, enjoy your meal!"

Monica smiled, like a butterfly, and fluttered out. Before leaving, she even threw a flirtatious glance at Jim, who had followed her in out of curiosity. This teasing gesture made Jim's head nearly smoke with anger.

Seeing his boss's somewhat awkward expression, Jim wisely exited. Albert Wilson was left standing alone with the lunchbox in the large office, thinking of how Cynthia had handed him the box this morning with such gentle words. He felt a corner of his heart melt.

If they could always get along like this, in peace and harmony, it wouldn't be so bad. At least his heart would still feel something.

When Cynthia's body had nearly recovered, she received his call. He asked if she wasn't going to visit Vincent. Cynthia had been hesitating about how to bring it up, but since he had mentioned it, she took the opportunity to agree.

She took a cab to the hospital, and by the time she arrived, he was already waiting outside the ward. With him was Grace Lancaster. Cynthia noticed Grace's indifferent expression and felt a slight discomfort.

She greeted her quietly, then stood there without speaking. He strode over, placing his hand on her shoulder as he guided her into the room. Vincent, leaning against the bed while reading the day's newspaper, glanced up when they entered. A hint of sadness flickered across his pale face as he saw them together.

She had come to see him, but she was with another man.

The gazes of the two men met in the air—Vincent's filled with suppressed pain, while Albert Wilson's was cold with a hint of provocation. Cynthia didn't notice the subtle tension between them. At that moment, she had no energy to care about anything other than Vincent, who looked terribly frail in her eyes.

It had been over a week since the shooting incident. Vincent's injuries were no longer life-threatening, and he just needed to rest and recover. Although his complexion had improved significantly, Cynthia couldn't stop her tears from falling.

The thought of that terrible day still made her heart twist painfully. Sometimes, the scariest part wasn't the moment of danger, but the aftermath—looking back at what almost happened after surviving it.

"Vince—"

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She broke free from the firm embrace of the man beside her and rushed to Vincent's bedside. Albert Wilson's expression stiffened, but he held back his reaction.

"Cynthia, don't cry!"

Vincent no longer looked at Albert Wilson, focusing his attention on the woman rushing to him. He gently wiped away the tears falling from her cheeks with his warm fingers.

Albert Wilson pressed his lips tightly together, almost turning them into a thin line. He gave them a cold glance before turning and walking out.

Through her tear-filled eyes, Cynthia vaguely saw Albert Wilson's broad, upright back as he left. Suddenly, her tears flowed even more intensely. She felt something stir within her—a sense that after he left, she and Vincent would never return to how they were before.

If this had happened before she married that man, maybe she would have willingly waited for Vincent, endured the time until he could free himself from his family and then be together with him.

But now, she was already a wife, and he was already a husband. Despite their lingering feelings for each other, reality had finally forced them to bow to its constraints.

The only thing she could do now was thank Vincent. However, before she could speak, Vincent grabbed her hand, his clear eyes filled with pain.

"Cynthia, don't say thank you! Don't say anything!"

"Vince, I..."

Cynthia choked on her words. Her Vince had always been so considerate, so caring for her, never willing to let her suffer even the slightest bit of hardship.

Vincent's eyes were also slightly moist. He tried to suppress his sadness, continuously reaching out to wipe her tears.

"Cynthia, since I've done this for you, I have no complaints, no regrets, and I certainly don't need your thanks!"

If, back then, when he was forced into marriage, he had shown the same courage as when he shielded her from the gunfire, they would not have ended up in this situation today.

Cynthia's hand was held by him, feeling the warmth and strength of his palm slowly transferring its heat to her. She couldn't say a word, only continuing to cry. In this moment, it felt as though no words could fully capture the emotions stirring in both of their hearts.

There was reluctance, sorrow, regret, and nostalgia. But above all, neither of them had the courage to be together anymore. "I love you, and you love me, but we cannot stay together for life. This is the most helpless and painful parting."

From now on, my life will have nothing to do with yours, and your future should no longer have my shadow. Let us smile at each other under the same sky and wish each other the best. Perhaps, this is the most we can do for each other—our final release.