Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.

Albert's grip unconsciously tightened in his hand due to his overwhelming anger.

"Cough, cough—"

Cynthia started coughing violently, her small face turning bright red.

This man is insane! Was he trying to strangle her? Well, maybe death would be better. If she died, she wouldn't have to live such a hard, exhausting life anymore. Was this her destined end?

With these thoughts running through her mind, she gradually stopped struggling. She slowly closed her eyes, quietly accepting his wild rage. Her long, curled lashes cast a dark, somber shadow over her delicate face.

Perhaps her utter despair snapped him back to reality. He suddenly shoved her away.

"Want to die?"

He spat out the words coldly.

"It won't be that easy!"

Then, without warning, he lowered his head and fiercely seized her lips, biting them roughly. There was no tenderness, no chance for her to escape. Even as she was on the verge of suffocating from the prolonged kiss, he still refused to let her go.

He poured all his strength into ravaging her lips, as if only this could extinguish the fire burning in his chest, as if he needed to leave his mark on her. With that thought, he took action. Lowering his head, he buried his face in the pale skin of her neck and bit down hard.

She immediately let out a cry of pain. Breathing heavily, he released her and looked at his handiwork with satisfaction. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of shock and shame. Furious, she raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it in one swift motion.

Feeling something hard in her palm, he frowned. He opened her hand and narrowed his cold eyes.

"True Love Waits?"

The English words rolled smoothly off his lips, the pronunciation flawless and rounded.

"A purity ring?"

It seemed he'd heard of it before—something about a promise to God to stay chaste before marriage. A wicked smile curved his lips as he lightly stroked the silver ring on her left ring finger.

"Since you've already decided to marry me, it's time to take this off, don't you think? Otherwise, people might think that I, Albert Wilson, am incapable in that regard."

Her chest heaved with fury, but in the end, all she could do was angrily wrench her hand away and storm off into the night. To him, she looked like she was running away in anger, but to Cynthia, it was an escape in desperation.

In the silver-gray car, Albert Wilson leaned sideways in his seat, watching the figure that hurriedly fled into the night. His long fingers unconsciously brushed against his lips, which still held the residual heat from the kiss.

He had kissed her twice in one day, yet each kiss had given him a completely different feeling. That afternoon, he had kissed her with patience, teaching and guiding her, but without any real emotion. It had all just been an act.

But just now, he had kissed her as a man kisses his woman. His body had even reacted to the kiss, and he found himself wanting to press her beneath him right there in the car and lavish her with his affection.

The fact that he felt such an impulse frustrated him. He wasn't the type to be driven by lust, and not just any woman could elicit that kind of reaction from him. Yet, this woman—whom he had only met twice—had somehow managed to do just that.

After escaping from that devilish man, Cynthia wandered alone through the vast, silent campus, walking in circles. Whenever she felt unsettled, she would keep walking until she was utterly exhausted, until she had no strength left to think.

Bonnie often told her she had a self-destructive streak. When others were upset, they would vent to someone, or cry, or scream. But Cynthia only knew how to torment herself.

Exhausted, she finally made her way back to the dormitory. She lived in a four-person room. Bonnie had been her best friend since high school. The other two roommates, Vivian and Nancy, were from different cities, both lovely, hardworking girls. And then there was her...

When she entered the dorm, Bonnie was the only one there. The other two were likely still studying in the library. Bonnie was lounging with her laptop, browsing gossip news. She glanced up casually when Cynthia came in and greeted her.

"You're back!"

The next second, Bonnie jumped off her bed and rushed over, looking at her as if she had seen a ghost.

"Cynthia, what happened to your lips?"

That man's grip had been too strong, and now her lips were red and swollen, still painfully burning. She wiped her mouth and lowered her gaze.

"Nothing."

"And your neck!"

Bonnie gasped again. Cynthia replied irritably, "A cat scratched me!"

"Oh, really? That must be one sexy cat, to scratch you so skillfully!"

Bonnie laughed suggestively.

"I told you, if you went out dressed like that, something would happen. Now look! I was right—you got yourself caught by some beastly man, didn't you?"

Bonnie kept on talking, but Cynthia climbed into bed and closed her eyes, lying there in silence. She let her mind go blank, telling herself the comforting lie that once she woke up, everything would be back to normal.

After that night, her life indeed returned to calm. He didn't show up again, as if he had disappeared into thin air, and there were no reports from the outside world about him getting married.

She thought he must have taken her words that night to heart and given up on the marriage.

A quiet week passed, and on Friday, she received a call from William S. Lancaster, asking her to come home for dinner. She had already found excuses to decline a few times before, but this time, unable to come up with a valid reason, she had no choice but to agree.

To her surprise, when she returned home that evening, she found the entire Lancaster estate brightly lit, filled with a dazzling array of guests, and a line of luxury cars parked outside. She smirked slightly and, as usual, entered through the side door. However, she was surprised to see a servant already waiting for her.

"Miss Cynthia, the master wants to see you in the study."

Without saying anything, she changed direction and followed the servant toward William S. Lancaster's study. The noise from the lively gathering in the front yard could still be heard faintly in the background. Casually, she asked,

"What's the occasion today?"

"It's Miss Doreen's birthday," the servant respectfully replied.

Suddenly, it all made sense. No wonder it was so lively—today was Doreen Lancaster's 24th birthday. Since she was a popular star in the entertainment industry, the Lancaster estate was hosting an extravagant birthday party for her.

Wealthy businessmen, celebrities, heirs of the rich and powerful, political figures—anyone who was even slightly prominent in society—Grace Lancaster would invite to Doreen's birthday party. In reality, it was less of a birthday celebration and more of a husband-hunting event for Doreen Lancaster.

But such grand events had nothing to do with her. It wasn't that she wasn't qualified to attend, but rather that she had no interest in being part of it. She didn't want her marriage to become a sacrifice for family interests. What she longed for was to spend her life with one person, to grow old together without separation, even if it meant living without wealth or luxury.

But now, no one had pushed her into the fire pit—she had thrown herself in. Was this her fate? After rejecting pretense for so many years, was she finally destined to walk down a road of no return?

Outside William S. Lancaster's study, she took a deep breath, calming her tangled thoughts before raising her hand to knock on the door.

"Come in!"

A somewhat stern voice responded, and she pushed the door open to enter.

William S. Lancaster stood by the window in a formal evening suit, his hands behind his back. When he heard her come in, he turned and looked her over for a long moment before speaking in a weighty, fatherly tone.

"Cynthia, you're only twenty years old, in the prime of your youth. Besides, you haven't even graduated from college yet. How can you think of getting married?"

The moment he began speaking, Cynthia understood his meaning, but she remained silent, waiting for William S. Lancaster to continue.

"Doreen is not getting any younger. It's not ideal for her to keep working in the entertainment industry forever. A perfect man like Vice President Wilson is rare—almost impossible to find."

She didn't seem interested in his words, her gaze drifting instead to the corner of the bookshelf, where a jade bracelet with an emerald-green hue quietly rested, exuding a serene glow.

After a long pause, she finally withdrew her gaze and looked at him, asking in a calm but distant tone,

"If... I give up the engagement, would you give me that diamond bracelet?"

As she said this, a flicker of bright light flashed through her usually cold eyes.

A look of anger appeared on William S. Lancaster's well-preserved face.

"How dare you! Since when do you bargain with your father?"

"This engagement isn't something I can just cancel. You should discuss it with Vice President Wilson instead."

Her voice was steady as she finished speaking, then she turned and walked out.