Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 185 - - Olive Wilsona

Cynthia didn't answer immediately. She simply stared at him, her eyes seeming to waver for a moment before quickly returning to their calm composure.

"I remember," she responded briefly.

Albert walked toward her, his heart pounding, his eyes full of longing and regret. "Cynthia, I know I've hurt you. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I hope you'll give me a chance to make it up to you."

She looked at him, and after a brief silence, she shook her head gently. "Albert, there's nothing you can do to fix everything. Our past cannot be undone."

Albert's heart sank, nearly shattering. However, he didn't give up. He clenched his fists and said firmly, "I don't regret loving you. I don't regret giving everything for you. No matter what the future holds, I will do everything I can."

Days later, Albert's emotions were still in turmoil, with one question gnawing at him — was Olive truly his biological child?

This question was like a thorn in his heart, preventing him from finding peace. He knew he had to uncover the truth, for his own sake, and to give Cynthia and her family closure.

"Victoria,"

"I want to do a paternity test."

"Are you sure?" Victoria's voice carried clear surprise. "This is very sensitive. Aren't you afraid it might ruin your relationship with Cynthia?"

"I have to know," Albert's voice was firm. "I've already lost so much. Now, I just want to know if that child is mine."

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A few days later, Albert finally received the results. He sat in his office chair, his hands gripping the heavy report, everything in front of him blurring. In that moment, his heart seemed to stop. The report clearly stated — he was biologically related to Olive.

"It's my child..." Albert muttered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief and shock. Though he had been somewhat prepared, seeing the report still felt like being struck by lightning, his body almost paralyzed.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. The excitement and shock in his chest were tangled together, indescribable. Years had passed, and the coldness and detachment he once felt had now transformed into a strong desire to protect this small life, alongside a deep sense of responsibility.

"I have a child now..." Albert softly repeated this fact, as if confirming it to himself. He knew everything had changed. He was no longer the man who had only cared about his own hatred and pain. Now, he bore a brand-new responsibility.

"I have to get them back." Albert muttered to himself in the office, his eyes shining with determination. "She and the child are part of me. I can't let this slip away again."

He realized that what he was facing now wasn't just Cynthia's choice—it was the life and reliance she had already built with the child. This was no longer simply a matter of love and feelings; it was a question of belonging to a family.

"I have to make her understand that I can give her and the child a better future." Albert clenched his fist tightly, making a firm decision in his heart.

He knew that Cynthia's feelings for him were no longer simply about love and trust. The wounds, the misunderstandings, and the missed opportunities from the past had built a high wall in her heart. She might never accept him again, and perhaps even harbor resentment, but he wasn't planning to give up.

Thus, Albert began his action plan. He no longer carried himself with the arrogance of before, nor was he the selfish man he once was. Now, he understood that true strength wasn't in running away from responsibility but in being willing to take it on and fight for it.

"How did you get in here?"

She shouted at him in frustration, wrapping herself tightly in the blanket and leaning against the headboard of the bed, only her head exposed. She clearly remembered locking the door last night.

"This is my house. How do you think I got in?"

Ignoring her discomfort and displeasure, he opened his arms and walked toward Olive.

In stark contrast to her, Olive wasn't the least bit shy. Barely dressed in just a pair of tiny shorts, she happily leaped into his arms. He reached out and, blocking her face, took her clothes, putting them on her piece by piece.

The fresh scent of a man hit her nostrils as he suddenly drew near. Her breath caught, and she immediately wanted to yell at him. How could he be so inconsiderate, barging into a woman's room without knocking or making a sound? It was truly the height of rudeness.

But as she watched him, a big man awkwardly dressing Olive, while the mischievous child hopped around, making him dress her several times before getting it right, the words she wanted to shout suddenly stuck in her throat. Instead, warmth spread through her heart.

However, she had no idea that this proud man had no shame in barging into a woman's room. Perhaps it was because he had seen every inch of her, so he felt entitled to act so recklessly.

There might also be another reason: he wanted to see her flustered. Used to her cold stares, he had to find a way to give himself a little reward. After all, he was Boston's finest and knew exactly how to make her lose her composure.

So, she could only shrink back, not daring to move, as she watched the two of them—Olive happily playing around while Albert struggled to dress her. Olive even mischievously ran off in the middle of getting dressed. Albert, though, seemed reluctant to raise his voice at Olive, allowing her to act up as she pleased.

Frustrated, she scolded Olive.

"Olive, can you just sit still and put your clothes on? What if you catch a cold from all this running around?"

Seeing her upset, Olive immediately calmed down. She was the best at reading the room, and quickly waddled over from the other side of the bed, obediently letting Albert dress her, occasionally sneaking glances at her expression.

However, Albert's face darkened when she called Olive's name. She immediately sensed the shift and fell silent. He remained tight-lipped, silently continuing to dress Olive without saying a word.

After finishing, he picked Olive up in his arms and looked at Cynthia, still with a gentle smile in his eyes.

"If you're tired, you can sleep a bit longer."

Cynthia felt a chill run down her back at his smile, curling deeper into the blanket and giving him a complex look. She couldn't figure out his game. Was he angry about how she had called Olive just now, or was he not angry?

But after being startled like that, she certainly didn't feel like sleeping anymore! She shot him an annoyed glance and said indifferently,

"Thank you, but no. I still have a lot to do today."

She finished speaking, yet he still stood there, holding Olive, staring at her with cold eyes. She had no choice but to be blunt.

"Could you please take Olive outside for a moment? I need to get up and change."

This time, he actually moved, turning and walking away with Olive in his arms. Cynthia let out a long breath, but before she could even calm herself, he suddenly stopped, turned around, and coldly said,

"'Kynthia,' don't you think it's a bit awkward?"

He deliberately emphasized the "Kynthia," and she almost choked on her own breath. Coughing uncontrollably, she covered her mouth with her hand, her slim arm and smooth, pale shoulder exposed as she did. She awkwardly averted her eyes, trying to avoid his sharp gaze.

In her heart, she secretly grumbled, so that's what he'd been holding back for—he really could keep his composure.

"Mummy, mummy, drink some water quickly—"

Olive struggled to get out of Albert's arms, wanting to fetch her some water. She didn't understand what they were talking about, but she knew her mummy was feeling unwell. Albert, ever so considerate, carried Olive to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and handed it to her.

When she finally managed to suppress her coughing fit, he handed Olive to a servant, then returned to stand by the bed, looking down at her with a cold expression.

"I think she should be called 'Olive Wilson,' don't you?"