’But now, it seemed even that small request was gone.’

Leona Grant’s eyes misted over as he said in a low, heavy voice, "If it has nothing to do with me, then who does it concern? Annabelle Linton, you’re going to Albion with him, aren’t you? And you’re never coming back, are you?"

It was obvious, so Annabelle Linton saw no need to state it.

He stared at her, his hand trembling as it gripped hers. He couldn’t stop himself from asking again, "Answer me... Are you really leaving with him?"

Annabelle Linton regarded him with a cool gaze, her ruby lips parting as she answered, her eyes betraying no emotion. "Yes."

The moment she spoke, she clearly felt his grip on her hand tighten. She frowned and tried to pull away.

But Leona Grant only gripped her tighter. He didn’t speak, just stared at her intensely for a long moment. Annabelle Linton could feel the weight of his gaze.

After a moment, Leona Grant suddenly laughed. He then stated three firm words: "I forbid it."

’Forbid it?’

Annabelle Linton was clearly taken aback, as if she hadn’t expected him to say that. Then, she laughed too—a laugh that suggested she found those three words utterly ridiculous.

’It really was laughable, actually.’

She let out a few low chuckles before lifting her gaze to meet his. Her lips were curved into a smile, but it held no warmth, no humor.

She looked at him indifferently and said, her voice flat, "I trust you’ve already received the invitation."

Leona Grant’s pupils contracted.

"We’re holding our engagement ceremony the day after tomorrow. You’re welcome to attend."

For several seconds, the atmosphere was frozen solid.

It was a long moment before Leona Grant seemed to snap back to reality. His head shot up to glare at her, his earlier composure shattering as he suddenly became like a caged animal, kicking over one of her packed suitcases.

His eyes bloodshot, he glared at her and roared, "I said I forbid it! Do you hear me?! I forbid it! Annabelle Linton, I will not allow you to marry any man other than me! Do you understand?!"

"I don’t."

Annabelle Linton remained completely unfazed by his outburst.

Having lived two lives, there were very few things that could stir any significant emotion in her, unless they crossed a fundamental line.

She regarded him coolly, her expression blank save for a slight frown. "Leona Grant, back when we were married, if you told me to get lost, I had to get lost. What kind of scene are you trying to make now?

The moment our marriage ended, you should have understood that we were completely done with each other. Do you really think you have any right to say these things now?"

"You forced the divorce on me! I never wanted to leave you!" Leona Grant’s voice was even louder than before. "If you hadn’t threatened to kill yourself, do you think I would have signed those papers?!"

’Countless times. He regretted it countless times. Back when she’d forced him to sign, if only he had insisted, if he had just refused... would they even be in this situation now?’

’He knew he’d lost the right. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have held back for so long. But a person’s feelings, their emotions—they’re impossible to control, aren’t they?’

’Soon, she would be leaving. Leaving with another man.’

"So what?" Annabelle Linton was still devoid of any strong emotion. She raised a single, indifferent eyebrow. "The way you hurt me, neglected me, insulted me, and wrongly accused me... the way you took your anger out on me for no reason at all—did I force you to do that, too?"

Seeing his stunned expression, she pressed on, her voice cold and relentless. "You took advantage of how much I cared about you, acting without restraint and only getting worse. You thought I was your submissive little servant, content to grovel at your feet, waiting for your next command, ready to obey your every whim. Is that it, hmm?"