Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 120 - - Who are you

Carl Laurence's injuries had mostly healed by now, so Bonnie was back to her usual carefree self. Cynthia often envied her, envied how she could live so lightheartedly, as if nothing in the world could weigh her down.

But Cynthia, how could you know? Some people are simply masters at hiding their sorrow behind a smile.

The two were chatting when Cynthia's phone suddenly rang. Seeing Victoria's name on the screen, she frowned. Why would Victoria call her so late at night? Could it be that one of the children was sick?

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"Senior, something terrible has happened!"

The moment Cynthia picked up, Victoria's urgent voice came through.

"Wilson... Vice President Wilson has been hurt!"

"What?"

Cynthia felt as if someone had struck her chest with a heavy blow. It became hard to breathe. Her legs went weak, and she slumped helplessly against the wall behind her.

Bonnie, startled, rushed to support her and asked anxiously, "Cynthia, what's wrong with you?"

Victoria's voice continued,

"It happened on the street near the orphanage! Gary went there to deliver medicine and saw him being attacked!"

The area around the orphanage was home to people struggling to make ends meet, so Gary would regularly deliver free medicine to them. Tonight, while on his way back from a delivery, he suddenly heard the sound of fighting nearby. His instinct as a healer pushed him to hurry over.

What he saw shocked him. The man he didn't particularly like was being ambushed by a group of vicious thugs. Wilson was alone, without even a single bodyguard by his side. The attackers were numerous, towering brutes, and it didn't take long before Wilson was at a disadvantage.

Who are you, really?

Gary disliked Wilson because he had stolen the woman he had admired for so long. Since childhood, he had looked up to his senior with reverence and awe. But Wilson had dragged her into the messiness of the mortal world, leaving Gary resentful.

Caught in his thoughts, Gary suddenly noticed Wilson had taken several hits, one of which was a brutal slash straight down his back. Blood gushed out uncontrollably, and his body wavered, on the brink of collapse. Yet he stubbornly refused to fall, pride keeping him on his feet.

Even though Gary didn't like the man, he was still his senior's husband. And Gary himself wasn't in any condition to intervene directly. From his hiding spot, he did the only thing he could:

"The police are here!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Upon hearing Gary's shout, the attackers looked at each other in alarm. They glanced at Albert Wilson, who was bloodied and swaying dangerously, and then exchanged quick glances, as if they were sure he was about to die. In an instant, they scattered like birds, fleeing in all directions. No matter how cruel or vicious they were, the police were still their greatest enemy.

Gary, knowing his position, didn't dare approach to help. He was still standing there, unsure of what to do, when he saw Wilson spit up blood and collapse onto the ground. Rushing forward, Gary found that he had already passed out.

Only then did Gary quickly call Victoria, asking her to notify Cynthia. He also gathered a few strong young men from the area who were often helped by Wilson. They managed to carry Wilson to the orphanage. Given his injuries, only Cynthia could save him now.

After hearing the general details from Victoria, Cynthia's face had turned as white as a ghost. Bonnie, frightened, frantically shook her, even waving her hand in front of her face, desperate.

"My God! Cynthia, what's wrong with you? Please, don't scare me..."

After what seemed like forever, just as Bonnie was about to cry in panic, Cynthia snapped back to reality and immediately dashed out the door.

"Hey, hey, Cynthia, what's happening?"

Bonnie chased after her, shouting, unable to believe that the girl who always failed gym class was now running faster than a rabbit. Truly, human potential knows no bounds.

Cynthia reached the school gate, hailed a cab, and gave the driver the destination. She pressed her lips tightly together, clutching her chest in silence as she slumped in the back seat. Her pale face had the look of someone resigned to despair, and the driver was so intimidated that he didn't dare make a sound.

When they arrived at the orphanage, Victoria had already stopped Wilson's bleeding. She hadn't had time to use her skin mask to disguise herself. Wearing a large medical mask and cap to cover her face, she looked grim as she dove into surgery.

The wound on his back was so deep that his white bones were visible. Just imagining the sharp blade cutting into his back made Cynthia feel dizzy. Her hand, gripping the scalpel, shook uncontrollably.

She had witnessed countless bloodshed, countless partings between life and death. She had thought she could face anything with calm, but at this moment, she suddenly felt more terrified than she ever had before.

"Senior?"

Victoria's voice called to her, full of concern. "If you don't operate quickly, it might be... too late."

She had never seen her senior so anxious and frightened. In Cynthia's eyes, the senior on the operating table was always the calmest, most rational, and most composed person, no matter how serious the injury.

Even in the face of the most critical wounds, she could keep a clear mind and figure out how to bring the person back from the brink of death.

Victoria's reminder snapped Cynthia back to reality. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shook her head vigorously to dispel the unease gnawing at her heart. Only then did she grit her teeth and lower her head, beginning the operation.

It wasn't clear whether it was because too little anesthetic was used, or perhaps he had some resistance to it, but just as Cynthia finished treating the most lethal wound on his back and was about to turn him over to treat his chest, he suddenly slowly opened his eyes. Victoria gasped, turned around in a hurry, and rushed out of the treatment room.

Cynthia was startled, her hand frozen in place. His wound was deep, and now that he was lying on his back, the pain made him grimace. But as his gaze locked onto her face, a glimmer of light appeared in his eyes, momentarily making him forget the pain.

He stared at her and couldn't help but murmur,

"Cynthia?"

Cynthia's heart skipped a beat, nearly dropping the scalpel. She lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze, forcing herself to stay calm. Then, in a detached tone, she teased him,

"Vice President Wilson, what good taste you have. Even in such a state, you're thinking about women?"

After all, he had nearly lost his life. Seeing her dismiss his guess caused the last bit of strength he had left to drain from him. He closed his eyes, lying there, weakly gasping for breath.

But he didn't give up. After a brief rest, he endured the pain in his back and opened his eyes again, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

"Who are you?"

Although her face was completely covered by a large mask, those bright eyes, tinged with a hint of coldness, were unmistakably familiar.

"Sorry, Vice President Wilson, my name is Sunflower."

Cynthia continued, her expression as cold as ever. She was surprised at how stubborn he was. After enduring so much pain, he still hadn't passed out.

Well, let him continue being tough. She could guarantee that within five seconds, he would lose consciousness again. Even if his mind didn't want to faint, his body had already reached its limit. He would collapse, whether he wanted to or not.

"Sunflower?"

Sure enough, he muttered her name, his voice slowly growing softer.

But his eyes were still filled with doubt. After murmuring for a while, he suddenly gathered all his strength and reached up to grab the mask on her face. However, to his disappointment, she didn't dodge at all. She simply looked at him calmly.

Her lack of hesitation made him abandon all suspicion. If she truly had something to hide, she would have instinctively recoiled from his gesture. But she didn't. In fact, her gaze only became more composed.

In the end, he had no more strength left. His hand, suspended in the air, dropped helplessly, and his dark eyes unwillingly closed. The darkness overwhelmed him, and he fell unconscious once again.

Cynthia let out a long sigh and wiped the thin sweat that had appeared on her forehead due to nervousness. She then focused on tending to the other wounds on his body. Each time she treated a new injury, her heart ached as if those wounds were cutting into her soul.

She couldn't understand who he had offended. The intent of his assailants was clear: to take his life. Otherwise, every single wound wouldn't have been aimed at killing him.

Finally, after applying the medication and bandaging him, Cynthia stepped out of the treatment room. Her legs buckled, and she almost collapsed to the ground. Thankfully, Gary was there to catch her in time.

She sat down on a nearby chair, covering her face with both hands, and fell into a long silence.

From the moment she had received the news of his injury, her mind had remained blank. She had been so terrified that her brain had stopped functioning on its own.

And now, as all the tension and fear faded away, she finally realized that, whether she wanted it or not, this man had already stormed into her life with overwhelming force and occupied her heart.