Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.

In the taxi, Cynthia shed all her pride and dropped her pretense of strength. She pressed her lips together, leaning against the back seat, tilting her head to gaze at the hazy night outside the window. Beneath the flickering neon lights, her small face was filled with loneliness and sorrow.

As for Vincent, it wasn't that she loved him so deeply that she couldn't live without him. It was just that from her lonely and desolate childhood, he had always been by her side, giving her protection, spoiling her, warming her. After so many years, she had grown used to his presence.

But one day, that person no longer belonged to her. The sense of abandonment, as if the whole world had forsaken her, nearly destroyed her. After that, she began to coldly raise her guard, learning to protect herself.

She thought that as long as she didn't care about anything or anyone, she wouldn't get hurt again.

On the radio, the song "Too Foolish" by Coco Lee was playing. The piercing, heartbreaking voice seemed out of place in the quiet car, yet she listened with fascination.

"Too foolish to keep your promise, I only blame myself for being blinded by love. The words spoken no longer matter, but I've never forgotten. Too foolish to keep your promise, I only blame myself for being blinded by love. Where can I find the heart that once was drunk? How can I escape the emptiness of memories?"

When they arrived at the school gates, she still didn't want to get out of the car. She took out her wallet and saw she had two hundred yuan left, so she told the driver to keep driving straight until a hundred yuan was used, then turn back.

The driver gave her a strange look, stepped on the gas, and sped off as instructed.

They hadn't been driving long when her phone suddenly rang. She withdrew her gaze from the window, glanced at the phone, and saw it was an unknown number. Not in the mood to answer, she directly hung up.

But the caller persisted, and annoyed, she finally answered in a sharp tone.

"Who is this?"

She practically screamed into the phone.

The person on the other end, clearly surprised by the outburst, remained silent for a moment before speaking.

"Aren't you going to explain?"

The voice, calm and steady, seemed to simmer with restrained anger.

It was him!

Her hand trembled as she gripped the phone, and the vulnerability and sorrow from a moment ago quickly vanished. A mask of guardedness immediately replaced the delicate expression on her face.

She knew perfectly well that he was referring to what had happened tonight, but she still pretended to be clueless.

"I'm sorry about what happened at the mall this afternoon. Something urgent came up, and I didn't have time to say goodbye before leaving..."

His voice remained calm, as clear and cool as a still pond.

"You know I'm not talking about this afternoon!"

She responded indifferently, "Then are you talking about tonight? What do you want me to explain? Vincent only asked me out for a cup of coffee, nothing more!"

His tone suddenly became sharp.

"Are you sure?"

Angered by his aggressive questioning, her tone turned equally harsh.

"Albert Wilson, what right do you have to question me like this? Don't you have a beauty in your arms too?"

What was he doing? Interrogating her like a man who caught his partner cheating? But wasn't he the one holding another woman tenderly in his arms? What right did he have to question her?

Even if he proposed to marry her today and she agreed, they both knew better than anyone else that it would be nothing more than a game. What right did he have to use that sarcastic tone to question her?

"Where are you?"

Clearly, the person on the other end of the phone had been provoked by her, as the calm and elegant tone was now gone.

"That's none of your business!"

She blurted out without thinking, probably the first time in twenty years she had ever shouted so recklessly at someone.

Normally, she was a reserved and quiet person who never got angry easily. Most of the time, she felt that if she could avoid conflict, she would. But at this moment, she couldn't stay calm anymore.

Then, she heard his voice come through the phone, each word forced through clenched teeth, carrying a chilling coldness.

"You don't have to tell me. I'll find you by any means necessary!"

The phone was abruptly hung up with a loud click, sending a shiver down her spine. In the end, she gave in. She didn't know what he meant by "any means necessary," but she didn't want to escalate things.

Living under the spotlight, in a world full of attention and lavish commotion, was never her intention.

With no other choice, she reluctantly dialed his number again. Before she could say anything, his sharp voice came through immediately.

"I'm at the north gate of your school!"

The call was once again coldly cut off, not giving her a chance to speak, as if he knew she would call back. What an arrogant, egotistical man!

She let out a self-deprecating laugh while holding the phone. Helplessly, she instructed the driver to turn around and head to the north gate of the school.

On the other end of the line, Albert Wilson held the phone in one hand, gripping the steering wheel tightly with the other. His handsome face was filled with layers of barely restrained anger, making his already stern expression appear even colder in the night.

That damned woman! How dare she talk back to him! When had Vice President Wilson ever been yelled at by a woman? Which woman didn't melt into a puddle of tenderness when they saw him? Which one didn't try their utmost to charm and please him?

At first glance, he had thought she was quiet and obedient, but he hadn't expected her to be so sharp-tongued! It seemed he had seriously misjudged her. To think that Albert Wilson, who had seen countless women, was fooled by her appearance—this was a personal humiliation!

He couldn't understand how there could be a woman like her, whose appearance was entirely at odds with her personality. She looked sweet and gentle, but her temper was fiery enough to make anyone spitting mad.

What infuriated him the most was her blatant lie. She had said that Vincent had merely invited her for coffee, but the two of them had been exchanging flirty glances, pulling at each other, their behavior unmistakably intimate. Was that really the way a brother-in-law should act with his sister-in-law?

When Cynthia arrived at the school, she spotted his luxurious car parked quietly in the distance. Under the cold streetlights, the car's sleek silver-gray body emitted a chilling aura that sent a shiver down her spine.

She got out of the taxi and, seeing that no one else was around, jogged over to the car, opened the door, and slipped inside.

As soon as she got into the car, she couldn't help but wrap her arms around herself and shiver. It was a warm spring night in April, yet the temperature inside the car felt as cold as a December winter, cold enough to freeze someone.

She carefully sat down and stole a glance at him. He sat there silently, lips pressed together, staring straight ahead. She couldn't see the expression on his face, only the cold and enigmatic profile of his features.

He remained silent, and so she could only follow suit. But after a while, she realized that this stalemate wasn't going to resolve anything, so she finally spoke up.

"Mr. Wilson, after thinking about what happened today, I've come to the conclusion that someone as lowly as me doesn't really match with someone as noble as you. Perhaps Doreen is the one who suits you best!"

She summoned all her courage to say everything that had been weighing on her heart. She regretted it—truly regretted it! From the moment she met this man, she had begun to lose her composure. If this continued, her world would spiral into chaos.

He abruptly turned his head, and a frost spread over his handsome face.

"Are you indirectly telling me that you regret this?"

She pressed her lips together but didn't deny it.

His large hand suddenly shot out and gripped her throat. The strong scent of tobacco filled her nose, and his dark eyes blazed with anger, as if they were about to burn her alive. He coldly asked,

"After meeting with your ex, now you tell me you regret it?"

She winced in pain, but her expression didn't show any sign of begging for mercy, which only made him roar in fury.

"Miss Lancaster, who do you think I, Albert Wilson, am? You think you can just marry me when you want and back out when you feel like it?"