Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 137 - -32C

‌‌Cynthia glanced at the text on her phone, her cheeks instantly flushing red as she nearly choked on her coffee. The message from Albert Wilson read: dear, why haven't you started shopping yet?

Because she was using his card, every transaction would send him an instant notification. Albert Wilson, lounging lazily on the couch with one arm propped behind his head, had been keeping an eye on his phone. His long legs rested comfortably on the back of the sofa, his tall frame bathed in the bright morning sunlight.

He was grinning as he stared at his phone. More than an hour had passed since she left, and not a single transaction alert had come through. Unable to resist, he sent the message to check in.

Fredy, carrying a tray of fresh fruit, walked over and couldn't help but chuckle when he saw his young master grinning like a schoolboy.

"Young Master, does it make you this happy that the madam is spending your money?" Fredy asked, his round face lit with amusement.

Albert Wilson flipped onto his side lazily, plucking a slice of fruit from the tray and popping it into his mouth. "Fredy," he began with a smirk, "isn't there a sense of pride and accomplishment in seeing your wife spend your money to make herself look beautiful?"

Fredy simply placed the tray on the table before retreating to the edge of the sunlight, smiling quietly as he watched his young master bask in his moment of satisfaction.

Fredy couldn't help but feel an immense sense of relief. To witness his young master genuinely laughing from the heart, speaking so tenderly about a woman, gave him a sense of peace. Now, he could finally face the late master and madam in the afterlife with pride.

The young master had referred to her as his wife—not his woman, not a lover, and certainly not just a passing presence in his life. When Albert spoke of her, even his every hair seemed to radiate joy. Perhaps Albert himself wasn't aware of how much his feelings showed in this moment. It was true what they said—those in the midst of a situation often couldn't see it clearly, while outsiders had a sharper view.

Meanwhile, at the café, ‌‌Cynthia was choking on her coffee, her face flushing bright red as she glared at the message on her phone. Across from her, bonnie raised an eyebrow in suspicion, taking in Cynthia's increasingly flustered expression.

"What's with you?" bonnie asked, snatching the phone from Cynthia's hand. When she read the message, her eyes widened, and her jaw practically hit the table.

After a moment of stunned silence, bonnie finally found her voice. "Cynthia, you and Albert Wilson... have you two gotten that far?"

The repeated and intimate use of "wife" was too much for bonnie to process.

Cynthia hurriedly grabbed her phone back, quickly shutting off the screen and forcing an awkward smile. "No, no! He's just joking around, saying nonsense!"

She really thought Albert was just teasing. After all, in all the years they'd known each other, he had never called her that. But bonnie didn't look convinced and was about to press further when Cynthia grabbed her arm, standing up abruptly.

"Laurence, come on, help me pick out some clothes!"

Bonnie gasped again, her round eyes darting up and down Cynthia as if trying to uncover some hidden truth.

"Ah? Miss Lancaster, did you rob a bank or win the lottery? Why are you suddenly being so generous with yourself?"

From what bonnie knew, Cynthia usually paid little attention to her appearance. Most of the money she made went to the orphanage, so she rarely bought clothes. Fortunately, her body and natural elegance made any outfit look stylish on her.

Cynthia was stunned by bonnie's bold remark, rubbing her forehead in exasperation as she asked, "Am I really that down on my luck, Laurence?"

Surprisingly, bonnie didn't hesitate to nod, "Yes! You really are that down on your luck!"

Cynthia huffed and walked away in a huff, while bonnie followed, laughing. They stopped by a store Cynthia frequented, and she picked out a pair of jeans she liked. When it came time to pay, bonnie's eyes practically lit up when she saw the card Cynthia was holding. She snatched it up excitedly, cradling it in her hands.

Seeing the gleaming golden letters on the card, bonnie's smile widened even further.

"Ah, Cynthia! I knew you were being so generous today because you found a big spender, huh?"

Cynthia was nearly choking on her frustration, her delicate brows furrowing deeply.

"Bonnie, do you have to talk like that? This card was forced on me by him! You think I wanted it?"

The more Cynthia explained, the more bonnie smirked, her teasing tone growing even more suggestive. Cynthia snatched the card back angrily and handed it to the cashier.

Bonnie, however, wasn't bothered at all. She leaned against the counter, eyes dreamy, and said, "Wow, if a handsome, dashing man handed me a platinum card like that, I'd gladly be his woman!"

"Ugh, stop being such a fangirl!" Cynthia shot back, clearly frustrated.

Cynthia was on the verge of a breakdown. She quickly put her card away, grabbed her things, and turned to leave the store.

Bonnie, still lost in her own thoughts, didn't even notice Cynthia's frustration. What she didn't know was that one day, when a man like that really did enter her life, she would be the one to run away in a panic.

Just as Cynthia stepped outside the store, she received another message. The moment she saw it, she was about to throw her phone and curse aloud. The message read: "dear, did you spend all that money on a pair of panties? What kind? Sexy, huh?"

Bonnie, following behind her, saw Cynthia's face turn red as if it were about to explode, and her body was shaking with anger. Bonnie leaned over to take a look and immediately burst out laughing, even bending over and holding her stomach, unable to stop.

Wow, this Wilson vice president was too adorable, too funny, too cute! Panties? He actually thought of that! But honestly, it wasn't his fault—since in his mind, that small amount of money could only buy something like that.

Cynthia shot Bonnie a fierce glare, who was laughing so hard she looked like she was about to cramp up, before gripping her phone tightly and taking several deep breaths to calm herself. Once her anger subsided, she typed furiously on her phone: "Sorry, Mr. Wilson, but I bought a pair of 'jeans'!"

She deliberately put quotation marks around "Mr. Wilson" and "jeans." She was about to explode from embarrassment. Only he would dare to say such cheesy things and make such shameless comments! His thick skin was truly impressive.

A few moments later, another message from him arrived: "You can actually wear such cheap pants? dear, I wouldn't mind if you added a couple more zeros to that price tag!"

Cynthia stared at the message, so enraged that her vision blurred. He really had no idea how the common people lived. Add a few zeros? That amount was enough for her living expenses for several months!

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Cynthia was fuming, her teeth grinding as she thought about how casually Albert had said those things. She couldn't stop herself from grabbing Bonnie, who was still laughing uncontrollably, and storming into the next store. Oh, since he thought her purchases were cheap, she'd show him how serious she could be.

Despite feeling rebellious and wanting to prove a point, when it came time to actually choose something, Cynthia couldn't ignore the steep price tags. Her heart clenched each time she glanced at the cost, and in the end, she reluctantly settled on a sweater.

Naturally, another message from Albert arrived: "Dear, better choice this time. But I'm still not sure what you bought. Care to tell me?"

Cynthia, fed up, responded with a curt: "Sweater."

Meanwhile, Albert Wilson lounged lazily on the sofa, his phone in hand as he read through the messages. After reading her response, he couldn't help but get up and walk to the study, where he picked up the latest fashion magazine. He returned to the sofa, propped his legs up, and started flipping through it. Within minutes, he was grinning, an idea forming in his mind. He picked up his phone again and typed: "Dear, Victoria's Secret has a new royal blue lingerie set. I recommend you buy it!"

Once he sent that message, he seemed to remember something, his brow furrowing in excitement. He quickly added: "Make sure you get this one, because I like it! Also, your size should be 32C!"

He then dropped the magazine over his face, but not before a satisfied smile spread across it. The smile faltered slightly as his thoughts wandered back to the intimate moments they had shared the night before. He recalled his hands brushing over her delicate body, imagining her wearing the lingerie he'd just mentioned. The thought sent a sharp jolt through him, a familiar and intense ache building in his lower abdomen.