Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 15 - - What photos?

Chapter 15 - Chapter 15- What photos?

Doreen had coveted Wilson for a long time but had never made it to his bed. How could this withered woman possibly earn his affection?

As she looked around, everyone else sat in stunned silence, unable to comprehend that the quiet, demure Cynthia could pull off such an outrageous stunt. The only one who seemed to be enjoying the spectacle was Grace Lancaster, while Vincent's deep, dark eyes reflected nothing but pain.

Unfazed by Doreen Lancaster's insults, Cynthia calmly put away her phone and stood up, politely bowing her head slightly.

"Sorry, I'm full. You all enjoy your meal!"

With that, she turned and walked away, ignoring the mix of shock and anger on their faces.

When Cynthia returned to her dorm from the Lancaster family home, she found her three roommates staring at her in shock, as if they had seen a ghost. It was clear they had all seen the explosive news that had rocked the city.

She threw her aching body onto Bonnie's bed and lay there, feeling utterly drained. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

She felt so exhausted, her entire body ached as if it might fall apart. Did spending a night with that man have to come with such painful aftereffects?

Vivian, ever the lively one, rushed over to inspect her. "Cynthia, are you getting married? Is it to that dashing, charming Albert Wilson?"

"Pfft—"

Cynthia rolled over and shot Vivian an exasperated look. "Vivian, go wash up and get some sleep. It's daytime, so don't dream."

Nancy chimed in skeptically, "But the bride's name is also Cynthia! What are the odds of that?"

Cynthia sighed. "It's probably just a coincidence. I'm not that lucky."

Only Bonnie knew the truth about her identity as the Lancaster family's Cynthia. She had told everyone that she came from an orphanage, which led Vivian and Nancy to believe that Marc was her only relative.

Moreover, the Lancaster family's Cynthia had never appeared in public, so Vivian and Nancy eventually accepted her explanation and stopped doubting her identity.

Bonnie, however, got up from her computer and walked over to her. "Cynthia, come with me to buy a bottle of water."

Without saying anything, she followed Bonnie out the door.

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The playground was still quiet, almost becoming their exclusive sanctuary. Talking late into the night on the vast, empty grounds had been a habit they'd developed since high school.

She always felt that sharing her burdens with a friend or the night sky brought some comfort to her wounded heart.

"Cynthia, that person is you, isn't it?" Bonnie asked, taking a puff of her cigarette as she sat on the high steps.

"Yeah."

The faint glow of the ember danced at her fingertips. She never thought it was wrong for girls to smoke; sometimes, when you carry too much inside, you need a way to release it, or else you wouldn't know how to keep going.

Bonnie looked at her with concern. "Cynthia, you've been pretending for so long to escape this marriage based on interests, haven't you?"

"Laurence…"

Her hand trembled, and the ash from her almost-finished cigarette fell to the ground.

"This time, I brought this upon myself…"

She shared the details of her ordeal with Bonnie. By the time the cigarette was finished, her story was told, and Bonnie fell silent. They sat together under the starry sky, lost in their thoughts.

The next afternoon, she suddenly received a call from that man. His voice had a hint of amusement, but it made her feel uncomfortable all over. They weren't close; did he really need to sound so friendly?

He said, "I'm going to the Lancaster family today to discuss the wedding. I think you should attend, right?"

She took several deep breaths to steady herself, making sure her voice didn't betray too much disdain.

"I'll be there."

In the Lancaster family's elegant and luxurious living room, the usual crowd had gathered, though the main character—the bride—was noticeably absent. At this time, she should have been on her way back to the Lancaster family.

Albert Wilson was dressed in a dark purple shirt adorned with exquisite silver dragon embroidery at the collar and cuffs. With his strong physique, he embodied the image of a refined yet aloof urban man, exuding sensuality.

He pulled a check from his pocket and placed it on the bright coffee table, his slightly curved starry eyes concealing the sharpness beneath.

"Mr. Lancaster, this is fifty million—my betrothal gift for Miss Cynthia."

Fifty million, neither too much nor too little, was just enough to cover the recent financial losses of the Lancaster Empire. William S. Lancaster's eyes lit up at the sight of the check, and he quickly reached for it.

Grace Lancaster shot him a fierce glare, prompting him to retract his hand. Albert Wilson's cold voice broke the tension.

"What's wrong, Mr. Lancaster? Is it too little?"

"No, no!" he quickly waved his hands, thinking how could he possibly complain? He was delighted; this fifty million would revive the Lancaster Empire.

However, glancing at Grace Lancaster, who was subtly signaling him, William S. Lancaster awkwardly added, "That vice president... if you're marrying Cynthia because of those photos, we have ways to make her delete them!"

"Photos? What photos?"

Albert Wilson narrowed his clever eyes, a hint of surprise flashing across his sharp features. But the next moment, he smiled lightly and replied, "Oh, that? It was originally done with my consent!"

He smiled sweetly, but inwardly he gritted his teeth. That damned woman had the audacity to play tricks right under his nose?

With his assurance, William S. Lancaster and Grace Lancaster had nothing more to say. However, Doreen Lancaster was relentless, insisting, "Albert Wilson, what makes me any less than that tramp?"

Initially, Cynthia thought that revealing her shameful actions would make him despise her, but to her surprise, he claimed that it was done with his consent!

With a graceful stride, he approached the furious Doreen Lancaster, leaning in close to whisper softly in her ear, "Miss Doreen, getting married is one thing, but love is another, don't you think?"

In an instant, Doreen lost her anger. How could she not understand the implication behind his words? Coupled with his flirtatious closeness, her heart raced uncontrollably.

This playful demeanor drove Vincent to leave in frustration. He wasn't indifferent or unaffected; if she were marrying someone who truly cared for her, someone who would cherish and protect her, then perhaps his own resentment could fade along with her newfound happiness.

But now, the man who was supposed to marry her was still entangled in flirtation with Doreen Lancaster. How could he come to terms with that? How could he trust himself to hand her over to another man?

Watching Vincent storm away, Albert Wilson let his gaze drop slightly, concealing the sharp glint in his eyes. The disheveled bangs on his forehead added to his already cold and severe expression.

When he lifted his gaze again, his eyes were calm and serene as he spoke to William S. Lancaster, "Lancaster, I have some matters to attend to, so I'll take my leave."

As he was escorted out by a throng of onlookers, a striking sapphire figure caught his attention at the entrance. Outside, Vincent stood, gazing intently.

Cynthia was on her tiptoes, trying to reach the clusters of locust flowers hanging from the tree. Her petite frame bounced playfully as she jumped, but after several attempts, she still couldn't grasp the flowers. Frowning slightly, she turned to search for something to help her reach them. That's when she noticed the group of people watching her.

A hint of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly regained her composure. Turning her back to them, she continued to gaze wistfully at the white blossoms above, avoiding any acknowledgment of their presence, even failing to make eye contact.

She had always loved locust flowers. Every year, when they bloomed, memories of her mother would surface—how she used to make locust flower buns and pancakes for her. Suddenly, a wave of longing for her mother washed over her.

In the slightly cool April weather, she wore a cobalt blue knit top paired with distressed denim shorts that showcased her long, slender legs without reservation. Her normally loose hair was tied up today, gathered playfully at the crown of her head, giving her an air of carefree youthfulness that seemed to clash with the vibrant spring around her.

Women like Grace Lancaster and Doreen Lancaster could never embody the fresh and refined quality she possessed. Grace was too dominant, while Doreen was overly seductive. This unique blend of youthful innocence and womanly allure was something only Cynthia could pull off.

William S. Lancaster's face flushed with anger as he watched Cynthia frolic carelessly among the onlookers, completely disregarding the decorum expected of a lady in a gathering like this. He opened his mouth to reprimand her, but then noticed the elegant man stepping forward, a soft smile gracing his lips as he approached her.

Cynthia squinted at the locust flowers, feeling frustrated, when suddenly a pair of large hands reached out in front of her. With effortless grace, he plucked the largest bouquet and offered it to her. She cast him a wary glance, but his smile was warm and inviting. Maintaining her distance, she replied politely, "Thank you!"

"Is that enough for you?" he asked, still smiling, though the amusement in his eyes didn't quite reach the depths of his gaze.

"I want that one, too!" she said playfully, pointing to a higher cluster. She couldn't help but grin as she noticed the flash of irritation that passed through his eyes.

"Enough of this nonsense!" came William S. Lancaster's furious shout from behind.

"It's alright. If my fiancée wants it, then I'll just help her pick it," Albert Wilson replied smoothly, tossing his suit jacket casually over her shoulders. His scent enveloped her, making her cheeks flush slightly as she felt the warmth of his presence nearby.