I Want a Divorce Every Day, But the Superstar Says No-Chapter 117: Aftermath of Madness

She really didn’t want to pay any attention to Durrell Landon, but he was blocking her car, making it impossible for her to leave.

Looking at Durrell standing in front of her, for a moment, she wanted to slam on the gas pedal, ending it all for both of them in mutually assured destruction, but ultimately she resisted the urge.

She impatiently made a call to Oliver Gale:

"Young Master Windsor, Durrell is injured. Could you please come to the underground parking lot of Between Clouds and Waters to pick him up?"

Oliver seemed quite busy at that moment, and the signal wasn’t great:

"Quiana, I have a surgery here and can’t leave for now. Since Durrell is next to you... how about... you take him to the hospital?"

After saying that, he hung up the phone directly.

Quiana: "..."

She placed her hand on the steering wheel, tapping rhythmically with her fingers, as if she were still hesitating.

Blood kept seeping from Durrell’s shoulder, trailing down his arm and into his palm, eventually dripping onto the ground like a poppy blooming on the banks of the River Styx.

She finally got out of the car, looking calmly at Durrell standing not far away:

"Get in the car, I’ll take you to the hospital."

Upon hearing Quiana’s voice, Durrell slowly opened his eyes, the crimson gaze fixing straight on her, as if a fire was burning in his eyes, ready to turn anything in its path to ash.

Seeing his fiery red eyes, Quiana shivered instinctively.

Suppressing the odd sensation, she repeated: "Get in the car, I’ll take you to the hospital."

After saying this, she got in and sat in the driver’s seat.

Durrell felt a sense of relief as the wound on his shoulder provided him at least some clarity. Step by step, he made his way to the front passenger seat.

Just as she was about to say "Buckle up," the car seat reclined, and the next moment she found herself pinned beneath Durrell.

The blood-stained hand gently caressed her fair and delicate face, the heat from it giving her the terrifying illusion that her skin would melt. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Durrell, what the hell are you planning?"

Durrell gazed at her intensely, his voice holding an inexplicable allure: "I’ve been drugged by Vinny Linnel."

Quiana immediately understood: "You’re not thinking of using me to break the drug’s effects, are you? Don’t you remember we just signed the divorce papers a few days ago?" 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"If you don’t want to or even hate me, then just cut into my carotid artery."

At some unknown point, he suddenly pulled out a knife, placing it in her hand, guiding her to position the blade against his carotid artery. A light push, and it could pierce the skin and sever the artery.

Already there was a faint sign of the knife breaking the skin, and the blood splattered onto her face, scorching it as if it would burn through.

She forcefully withdrew her hand from his grasp, suddenly realizing that Durrell was, indeed, a complete madman, causing an inexplicable shiver to run through her heart.

"Madman... you’re just a madman..."

He admitted it readily: "Yes, I am a madman."

From the moment he first met her, he hadn’t been quite normal.

"Since you won’t kill me, then I’ll start."

With that, he tossed the knife aside and fiercely claimed her lips with his own.

Quiana only felt as if she was suffocating.

Vinny had indeed drugged him severely, and beneath him lay the only woman he had ever loved. Even if he always struggled to control his desires, at this moment, it was impossible to hold back.

The rich fragrance emanating from her body relentlessly flooded into his nostrils, like the sweetest bait in the world, carrying a soul-devouring poison that reduced his last shred of rationality to ashes.

...

...

When she awoke, she found herself lying in the master bedroom of Imperial View Manor. As she moved slightly, her whole body felt as if it had been torn apart.

At this moment, she had only one thought: that Durrell had truly restrained himself with her before.

"You’re awake."

A clear yet slightly hoarse voice reached her ears. She instinctively looked in the direction of the voice.

Durrell seemed to have just taken a shower, steam rising off his body, with damp hair and not a piece of clothing on him, only a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, exposing smooth, satin-like skin and a perfectly sculpted abdomen.

However, the bandages on his shoulder and neck marred the aesthetic.

Despite the enticing curves outlined in this moment, she wasn’t in the mood for admiration.

"Bastard..."

"..."

After returning, he had also bandaged his wound, but it had soon seeped red with blood again, though he paid it no heed.

She really couldn’t tell if the drug was unusually strong or if he was just excessively insane.

Seeing her ghostly pale face devoid of any hint of color, even though she tried hard to endure it, her furrowed brows betrayed her pain and discomfort, sparking a flicker of regret and guilt within him as he moved forward to gently caress her face:

"Was I too much yesterday?"

Without thinking, she slapped him, but alas, her whole body felt drained of energy. Even though he didn’t dodge, the slap had little effect, and her movement intensified the tearing pain, momentarily detaching her nerve and reason. Before she could react, Durrell suddenly placed a knife in her hand: "I told you last night, if you don’t want it or regret it, you can kill me."

After saying this, he forcefully guided her hand to thrust the knife toward his chest. She widened her eyes and instinctively diverted the blade’s direction.

Even though she tried to withdraw her hand, it still grazed past his chest, splattering droplets of blood.

Warm blood spattered on her face, making the spots feel as if they had burned through her skin.

"Madman, you’re just a madman."

Durrell didn’t care about his wound. Instead, he seemed a bit elated because despite the injury, she stopped the knife from plunging into his chest. Did that mean she couldn’t bear to part with him entirely?

He tossed the knife aside and then pulled her into his embrace, immobilizing her against him.

"You still can’t let go of me, can you? Deep down, you’re not entirely indifferent to me, are you?"

His voice was low and husky yet couldn’t hide a tinge of joy.

Quiana only felt like her head was about to split open from pain, unable to contain her irritation as she spoke:

"Get out—I need some rest."

Durrell kissed her gently on the face, "Alright, you take a good rest. I’ll handle asking for leave from the set for you."