Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 34 - - He had his beloved

His long fingers traced down his collar, unbuttoning his shirt one by one, revealing the toned chest beneath. Her face reddened slightly at the sight.

He grinned like a fox that had just caught its prey. She cleared her throat, trying to hide her embarrassment, and coldly protested.

"Albert Wilson, I agreed to play along for the old man's sake, but that doesn't mean doing... that with you!"

"What kind of 'that'?" he asked, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. She hadn't expected him to feign innocence, and it threw her off for a moment.

"You know... that kind of thing..."

"Who said anything about doing that with you?" He shrugged off his shirt, leaving only his fitted black dress pants, perfectly tailored to show off his lean waist, strong legs, and toned build.

She felt a wave of embarrassment over her assumptions. "Then... why are you undressing?"

"For sleeping, of course. Do you not take off your clothes to sleep? I had no idea you were so peculiar."

He strode toward her with long, confident steps. She instinctively lowered her gaze, avoiding his well-built figure, and tried to maintain her composure.

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She thought she was hiding her discomfort well, but little did she know, her cool facade had faded; to him, she now appeared more like a shy woman than the distant, unyielding one he'd first encountered.

Albert stopped in front of her, watching her pretend calmness, her obvious discomfort amusing him. A faint warmth stirred in his heart.

"What? Are you disappointed I won't do that with you?" he teased.

"Stop saying ridiculous things!" She lifted her head to snap at him, only to quickly avert her eyes after catching a glimpse of his bare chest.

He tilted her chin up playfully, murmuring, "Though I don't have much interest, if you really want, I could be persuaded."

Fury flared in her eyes as she slapped his hand away, grumbling, "Albert Wilson, why don't you just drop dead!"

She stormed over to the bed, grabbed a pillow and blanket, and tossed them onto the floor. He frowned.

"What are you doing?"

She clapped her hands together lightly, saying nonchalantly, "You can sleep on the floor tonight. The carpet's thick enough, you won't die from it!"

"Cynthia!" Albert Wilson hissed through gritted teeth. He had never slept on the floor in his life, and this woman dared to make him do it?

"This is my bedroom. If anyone should be sleeping on the floor, it's you!" he protested.

"I don't care!" Cynthia retorted stubbornly, not even pausing to think. Her own words surprised her as soon as they left her mouth. She'd never spoken so capriciously to anyone before. When she was with Vincent, he indulged her every whim, so she'd never had to resort to such tactics. But with this man, her words carried a note of childish defiance she hadn't realized she could muster.

He stood there, silent, creating an awkward tension. She turned, went to the wardrobe, pulled out another blanket, then jumped onto the bed and pulled it over her head. "I'm going to sleep now!" she declared.

A few seconds of silence passed, and then she heard his low voice breaking through the quiet.

"About that honeymoon trip..."

She threw off the blanket and sat up quickly. "Sorry, I'm kind of busy these days. Can we skip it?"

Recently, she had been taking on extra work, trying to raise money for two children with bone cancer who needed surgery. Although Marc and she were both skilled in medicine, neither of them had the resources to perform a bone marrow transplant, and they were both more experienced with general surgery.

So, they had to send the children to a large hospital for the procedure. But the steep costs had nearly made them give up. Though they'd recently earned a bit from a job in the Amazon, it was nowhere near enough. She couldn't bear it—the thought of those two young lives slipping away before her eyes was just too much to bear.

The two children were very well-behaved and never cried, no matter how bitter the medicine or how painful the chemotherapy was. But that day, after watching her and Marc return from Amazon, exhausted, they hid in the corner of the hospital room and cried their hearts out.

Each child clung to one of her legs, crying and saying they didn't want to be treated anymore and asking her not to work so hard. Her eyes also began to well up with tears, and she could only make up excuses to comfort them, saying, "Sister married a rich husband; he will pay for your treatment, and sister won't have to work so hard anymore!"

After she finally calmed the two children down, her heart felt a bit chaotic. Those words were something she had said in a moment of desperation. She had never considered borrowing money from him; that was a mental barrier she had set up from the very beginning to avoid getting too entangled with him.

She wanted to hold on for a few more days to see if she could gather enough money. If she truly needed to borrow, she would only go to Grace Lancaster, even though she would inevitably face Grace's cold mockery.

Seeing her anxious little face, Albert Wilson crossed his arms and rested his chin on one hand, wearing a troubled expression.

"If... you let me sleep in the bed tonight, we can consider canceling the trip!"

"Really?"

She asked eagerly, forgetting to hide her emotions. He nodded affirmatively.

Biting her red lip, she sat there hesitating. His eyes were full of a triumphant glint.

"I'll go take a shower; you can think it over!"

With that, he turned around and swaggered into the bathroom.

After he left, Cynthia thought for a moment and then jumped out of bed to grab the pillow and blanket. Since the bed was so big, she could lie on one side, and they could each cover themselves with their own blankets, which should keep things peaceful.

Just as she finished making up the bed for him, a crisp ringtone echoed through the room, coming from his phone on the bedside table. She ignored it and crawled over to lie down on the other side of the big bed, but the ringtone continued incessantly, driving her increasingly frustrated.

After it rang several times, she finally lost her patience, rushed to the bathroom door, and knocked loudly.

"Albert Wilson, please hurry up and come out to answer the phone!"

With a loud bang, the bathroom door swung open, and his nearly naked body appeared before her, water droplets rolling down his skin. His soft black hair clung to his forehead, softening the sharp lines of his face.

"Can you check who's calling?"

She took a step back in shock and then shot him a flushed glare as she ran over. It was a call from an unnamed number. Annoyed, she said, "No name; I don't know who it is!"

"Then just answer it for me!"

He casually said that and stepped back into the bathroom.

Before she could refuse, he had already disappeared from sight. She wasn't his secretary; why was he telling her to answer the phone? This man really had an inflated sense of entitlement!

The phone continued to ring incessantly. She frowned and pressed the answer button, thinking to herself that it wouldn't be some woman calling him in the middle of the night, would it? If that were the case, this "main wife" would have to show her temper! She was already simmering with anger and had no outlet for it.

It wasn't that she truly minded him being ambiguous with other women; if there was someone to blame, it was just the unfortunate woman calling at a time when her mood was particularly foul. Otherwise, she wouldn't have cared less about their romantic escapades.

Just as she was lost in thought, a soft female voice came through the phone.

"Albert—!"

She was momentarily stunned, her previous thoughts dissipating in an instant. The woman's voice was clear and gentle, unmistakably not that of a frivolous woman. Suddenly, a slender and graceful figure appeared in her mind—someone who held a special place in his heart!

Not hearing any response, the woman continued softly, "Albert, why aren't you talking? Are you upset?"

Her gentle voice carried a hint of grievance and a touch of coaxing, "I know it's inconvenient for you to answer the phone tonight, but I'm having stomach pains and wish you were here with me!"

Cynthia finally snapped back to reality. She felt like an eavesdropper on someone else's secrets, but now she was even more convinced that this woman was the one he truly cared about. After all, which woman had the privilege to speak to him in such an intimate tone?

She glanced towards the bathroom and delicately explained, "Hello, um... he's currently in the shower and can't take the call right now..."

There was a sudden silence on the other end, followed by the sound of a busy signal.

She thought to herself that the woman must be angry. With a resigned sigh, she climbed onto the bed and lay down. It wasn't her fault; he was the one who had asked her to answer the phone...

Albert Wilson emerged from the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, and saw that she had already taken his pillow and blanket to the bed. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, but he didn't let her see it. Instead, he casually asked, "Who called?"

"Just look for yourself!"

She replied tersely, settling down under the blanket as if to go to sleep.

Albert Wilson stared at her in disbelief, "You're going to sleep like this?"

"Yeah!"

"Not going to shower or change?"

His voice was gradually filled with annoyance.

"Yeah!"

Cynthia felt a headache coming on. What was he yelling about? She actually wanted to shower and change, but with a beast like him around, she didn't dare!

"Woman, I command you to go take a shower right now!"

His impatient voice echoed, and after some internal struggle, she reluctantly got up and walked to the wardrobe. She found the oversized T-shirt that she had worn that day; since she had nothing else here, she would just have to make do with that for now.

As she hugged the shirt and was about to head to the bathroom, she suddenly heard a low curse behind her. Turning around, she met his gaze; he was holding his phone, an awkward look flashing in his dark eyes, while she simply smiled.

Their eyes locked, and the atmosphere, which had warmed slightly after their earlier banter, abruptly plunged into coldness, enveloped once again by a sense of estrangement. He had his beloved, and she carried her own lingering pain...