Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 98 - - suffer

Her body was limp, leaning against the man. It was clear she had been drugged, but he wasn't sure if her consciousness was still intact. His gaze turned fierce and dark as he parked the car by the side of the road and rushed in that direction.

The chilly sea breeze and the salty taste of the sea water caused a sharp pain in his head. His previously quick pace slowed involuntarily, and he even stumbled slightly.

He pressed his hand to his head, leaning on the nearby railing to calm the intense pain that seemed to increase with every wave. He had seen doctors about this condition before, and they had told him it was a mental illness caused by the traumatic near-death experience he had gone through, which had triggered such an overwhelming aversion.

He regained his composure and looked in the direction of the woman, only to see the man pick her up and toss her into the sea. The man then arrogantly whistled in his direction before jumping into the nearby business car and disappearing without a trace.

The man's actions left him stunned. Watching the frail figure fall over the railing and vanish from his sight, he felt as though his chest had been struck by some blunt object. His already pale face grew even paler, and the intense pain in his head became nearly unbearable.

"Help! Help me!"

It wasn't until he heard the woman's desperate cry that he snapped back to reality.

"Cynthia—"

He murmured her name softly before running towards the spot where she had fallen into the water.

Cynthia, still groggy from being drugged, had gradually regained some awareness as the sea breeze hit her, but her body remained too weak to move. After being tossed into the water, the cold sea and her desperate instinct for survival gave her a burst of strength, but she still couldn't swim. She struggled in the water, swallowing mouthfuls of seawater and screaming for help, looking out at the vast, empty ocean. Despair slowly began to set in as her consciousness began to fade. Was this where she was meant to die?

She had always hated water since childhood, ever since that one time when Doreen Lancaster deliberately pushed her into the artificial lake in the backyard, nearly drowning her. If Vincent hadn't shown up in time, she would have been dead.

When she grew older, Vincent taught her how to swim. But each time she had to wear so little clothing and face Vincent directly, and then have him teach her how to swim hands-on in the pool, it embarrassed her to no end. After a few lessons, she still couldn't get the hang of it, so she pretended to be upset and begged to quit, and Vincent didn't force her any further.

"Cynthia—"

As her consciousness drifted deeper into those past memories and became more blurred, a loud shout from the shore suddenly pulled her back to the present.

She struggled to lift her head above the water after swallowing a few mouthfuls. She barely managed to catch a glimpse of someone on the shore, the familiar outline and handsome features—it seemed like that man. A smile suddenly formed on her lips. He always appeared at her most desperate moments.

But now, she wondered if she could even hold on long enough for him to rescue her. Perhaps this would be their final meeting.

On the shore, Albert Wilson stumbled toward her, only to see her small head almost sinking beneath the water, with only a circle of wine-red hair floating on the surface like a large bundle of seaweed, tightening around his neck and making it hard for him to breathe.

Hearing her name, she struggled, barely glancing at him, then sank again. Seeing that she no longer seemed to have any will to survive, he panicked. Throwing off his coat, he jumped into the water with his eyes closed.

The sea was his taboo, but that didn't mean he couldn't swim. He had grown up in the sweltering Golden Triangle until he was seven, and swimming had been one of his strengths.

Even now, he sometimes forced himself to swim a few laps, hating this weakness of his, so he constantly pushed himself to overcome it, though each time it ended with a headache.

But now, it seemed he had forgotten about the pain and his aversion to the sea. He grabbed her pale face from the water and pulled her into his chest, shouting loudly,

"Cynthia! Cynthia! Wake up!"

Her small face was pale, devoid of any color, and her wine-red hair, damp and hanging in front of her forehead, made her look utterly disheveled and fragile. She faintly opened her eyes and mumbled his name.

" Albert..."

Then, her eyes closed, and she fainted in his arms.

"Cynthia—"

He shook her unresponsive face, a look of pain flashing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he held her and swam toward the shore.

After struggling to get her onto the shore, he immediately pressed on her chest, forcing the seawater out of her lungs, then leaned down to kiss her cold lips, performing CPR.

"Cough, cough—"

After a while, she finally coughed up some water, and slowly opened her eyes.

The moment Cynthia opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of the same disheveled man. He was drenched, his expensive shirt stained with dirt from lying on the ground. Water droplets fell from his short hair, trickling down his pale, bloodless face. His thin lips were even tinged with a frightening shade of blue.

What stood out most were his eyes. She clearly saw the concern, perhaps even a hint of tenderness, in his gaze. Suddenly, her chest tightened, and her eyes began to fill with tears.

"Thank—"

Before she could finish her sentence, she suddenly saw him clutching his head in pain and collapse onto the ground. She was startled and hurriedly struggled to sit up.

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She reached forward and gently held his hand, which was tightly gripping his head, and anxiously asked,

"Albert Wilson, what's wrong?"

He couldn't have injured himself while saving her, could he?

To her surprise, he suddenly shook off her hand and yelled at her in a harsh tone,

"Go away! I'm fine!"

After saying that, he struggled to stand up, swaying unsteadily as he staggered forward. Albert Wilson's head felt like someone was relentlessly pounding on it. The intense pain slowly spread from his heart, the haunting memories resurfacing bit by bit.

The overwhelming pain completely robbed him of his sanity, even making him a bit delirious.

Cynthia, not willing to leave him like that, quickly followed and reached out, trying to support him.

"I'll help you!"

No matter what, this man had saved her life. She couldn't just watch him suffer, even if his attitude was so harsh. After thinking about it, she found it in herself to forgive him again.

"I told you to get away!"

After shouting at her, he pushed her hard. The force was so strong that Cynthia was thrown several feet away. She stood there, frozen, watching the stubborn man hold onto the railing, struggling with each step as he moved forward.

He didn't get far before his foot caught, and he collapsed against the railing, falling straight down. From Cynthia's medical experience, she could tell that he had probably fainted.

She quickly pulled out her phone, intending to call 120. She had thought her phone, having been soaked in water, wouldn't work anymore, but to her surprise, the call went through. It seemed that the phone's quality was surprisingly good.