Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 141 - - future

The game turned, and as the host announced the change in direction, she froze. Now, she had to say "I love you" to the person on her right—who, unfortunately, was him. She couldn't help but feel that the host was deliberately tormenting her.

When it was her turn, she took a deep breath, her heart racing as she looked at him. The room fell into a heavy silence, and all eyes were on them. He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes intensely fixed on her, showing no emotion.

Biting her lip, she finally forced herself to speak the three words, "I love you!" Then, not daring to look at him any longer, she quickly lowered her gaze, bracing herself to hear his inevitable response of "shameless."

But instead, his voice, gentle and steady, drifted down from above her. "I love you, too."

She looked up in shock. He was supposed to say "shameless"—but instead, he echoed her confession. He'd just admitted it, and they were both supposed to face the consequences.

She sat there stunned, her mind spinning, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The sound of the crowd's teasing echoed in her ears, but he no longer looked at her. After finishing his drink, he rejoined the others in the game. However, his large hand reached out and took hers, subtly brushing his fingers over her palm in a gesture that felt both deliberate and intimate.

The room buzzed with energy, but her heart was caught in a whirlwind of confusion and emotions she couldn't name.

The game continued, but her head was still buzzing from everything that had happened. His words kept replaying in her mind, leaving her confused and disoriented. She went through the motions of the game, blurting out things absentmindedly, and was punished with a few more drinks. But he, ever watchful, silently blocked every penalty that came her way.

By the time the gathering ended, she was still in a fog, feeling as though she had been drinking even though she hadn't touched a drop. The dizziness and the overwhelming sensations from the night had taken their toll.

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He, seeming to have had a little too much to drink himself, was still imposing as ever, casually draping himself over her as if she were his personal support. With a lazy smile, he bid the others farewell, his presence commanding attention even as the group began to disperse. The men were mostly drunk, while the women, except for a heavily intoxicated Monica, remained sober, each making arrangements for their ride home. Soon, the crowd thinned, and Jim, with a frown etched deeply into his face, took responsibility for seeing Monica home.

She, on the other hand, had not drunk a thing and found herself driving home. He leaned back in the passenger seat, eyes closed, seemingly deep in thought, but there was an air of calm around him.

As she waited for the light to change, she couldn't help but glance over at him. He looked almost childlike, so innocent in his repose. The faint smile on his lips seemed to hold a secret she couldn't quite place, a mystery that tugged at her.

For a moment, she wanted to ask him: Albert Wilson, how much of what you said tonight was true? How much was just part of the game?

She shook her head slightly. Forgive me, I'm too slow to figure out what's in your heart.

But in the end, she didn't ask anything. She shook her head and comforted herself, thinking, "Forget it, it's better not to know anything. Whether they say I'm weak or that I'm deceiving myself, it doesn't matter. This is just how it is."

Then a sharp honk from behind urged her to drive. She blushed and quickly started the car, driving away. As she drove, she glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, noticing how flustered she looked, and couldn't help but let out a long sigh, thinking to herself, "Cynthia, why are you so spineless?"

Her driving skills were already poor, and now, with her mind in turmoil, the car wobbled dangerously as she drove. It was surprising that the man next to her could still manage to sleep through such a bumpy ride.

Finally, she managed to park the car in the garage, sweating. When she turned around, she suddenly met his bright, dark eyes, which held no trace of sleepiness or drunkenness.

She remembered how she had been staring at him for a long time on the way here and thought of her terrifying driving skills. Feeling a bit embarrassed, she forced a smile and said, "We're... home! Get out of the car!"

He had been lazily leaning there, but when he heard her speak, he reached out, pulling her into his arms by her neck. The scent that belonged to him immediately filled her nostrils. She flustered, trying to pull away from his embrace, but as soon as she lifted her head, she saw Fredy standing outside the car, and her face immediately changed.

At that moment, Albert Wilson had been planning to take advantage of the alcohol and steal a kiss, but upon seeing her horrified gaze directed out the window, he turned around and saw Fredy standing outside. Frustrated, he let go of her and got out of the car.

Once outside, he glared angrily at Fredy, slamming the car door so hard that it echoed. Fredy, feeling frustrated, almost wished he could run into a wall. How could he have forgotten? The inside of the car was always the most likely place for things to become ambiguous. Seeing the way the young master acted, it was clear that he had ruined something good.

Sigh, he had only heard that Albert had been drinking and rushed over to greet him, and when the car had been swerving so much earlier, it scared him. He hadn't thought much of it, just following along.

Albert Wilson walked angrily ahead, but after a while, he suddenly realized that the little woman wasn't following him. He turned around and saw her talking and walking with Fredy.

He gritted his teeth in irritation. Damn woman! Did she think she was out for a walk? Didn't she know he had been drinking? Uh... well, he wasn't that drunk, but still, she didn't seem to care about him at all!

Cynthia had only chatted with Fredy for a few moments when she sensed the displeased gaze coming from ahead. She had no choice but to quicken her pace to catch up, after all, he was walking so fast. Plus, she knew he wasn't that drunk, which was why she hadn't been concerned.

From her earlier observation, she could tell he was only slightly tipsy, not drunk, and his steps were steady. But as soon as she got closer, his body went limp, and he collapsed into her arms. Her face instantly darkened, and she hurriedly reached out to support him. He was really good at pretending, wasn't he?

Albert Wilson didn't care at all. Satisfied, he wrapped his arm around her and began walking upstairs. His movements were somewhat lazy, no doubt due to the alcohol, and his eyes—when they turned to her—held a seductive glint, as if casting a flirtatious glance. The moment he looked at her, Cynthia felt a tingle of warmth spreading through her body.

She wasn't sure if she was supporting him or if he was holding onto her, but after much effort, they finally reached the bedroom. Without any hesitation, he dragged her onto the bed. Her body was unceremoniously tossed onto the mattress.

She frowned and tried to push his large frame off her.

"You're covered in the smell of smoke and alcohol. I'll go run you a bath first!"

He tilted his head as if realizing that his scent was too strong and, letting go of her, allowed her to go. By the time she returned from the bathroom, she saw him lying with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.

His thick eyelashes cast a charming shadow beneath his eyelids, his strong nose, and the arched brows above his eyes... Every part of him was a source of unparalleled pleasure for her.

She sat beside him, quietly observing him. She had never studied him so carefully before. With his eyes tightly closed, he appeared warm and harmless, hiding the sharpness and coldness that usually flickered behind his gaze.

Unable to control herself, she leaned forward and whispered gently into his ear,

"Albert Wilson... I love you!"

After saying that, her face flushed, and she quickly jumped off the bed and ran into the bathroom. In her haste, she didn't notice that the moment she turned away, his black eyes suddenly opened, gleaming with a bright light, filled with unmasked joy and intense heartache.

He had only closed his eyes to rest for a moment, not expecting to hear such a confession. When those soft three words penetrated his eardrums and reached his mind, he admitted that his heart surged with overwhelming joy.

It was completely different from the way she had said those words earlier in the private room because of the game. He almost opened his eyes and kissed her fiercely, but the cold and darkness that suddenly surged inside him made him freeze, halting his actions.

He carried too much hatred on his shoulders, and this hatred prevented him from loving without reservations. From the moment he embarked on his path of revenge, he knew he was always living with the danger of death, just like that night when he had almost lost his life in an ambush.

How could someone like him offer a woman a future?