Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 21 - - What do I need to prepare?

Albert Wilson was a man of stature; even if this marriage was just a farce, he wanted it to be grand and impressive. Would a wedding of such public attention really have no celebratory photos taken at the banquet?

He decided not to waste any more time talking to her. He stepped forward and firmly grasped her wrist, squeezing it as if he intended to crush her bones.

"I said—get in the car now!"

Seeing his demeanor, Cynthia realized that if she refused to go today, he would likely knock her out and take her anyway. However, going to the bridal shop meant she would be thrust into the spotlight, completely exposed to the world!

No! She absolutely could not allow that to happen! She didn't want her future life under constant scrutiny from paparazzi, labeled as Mrs. Wilson. As a wealthy young mistress, she would lose far too much freedom.

He dragged her forward without a hint of gentleness, causing her to stumble and jog a few steps to keep up. She panted slightly, trying to negotiate with him.

"Um... Mr. Wilson, since it's like this, I'd like to go back and change clothes!"

He didn't look back and continued pulling her along.

"Change what clothes? There will be clothes for you to wear when we get there!"

With a utility pole right next to her, she felt an urge to run over and hug it. Glaring at his indifferent back, she wanted to scream in frustration. Wasn't this just a performance? A bridal photo shoot! If he wanted to take photos, he should find his beloved, not disturb her!

Yet her good upbringing prevented her from voicing those thoughts. With determination, she pulled her body back.

"Mr. Wilson, I need to go home first!"

She said this defiantly, glaring at the hand that held hers, thinking: if you don't let go this time, I'll bite you!

Finally, he stopped, turning to look at her slightly flushed face from anger and struggle. His thick brows furrowed in displeasure as he spoke.

"I'll give you five minutes!"

"Thank you!"

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, she broke free from his grip and dashed home.

Once inside, she rushed into her bedroom, barely taking a moment to catch her breath. She started rummaging through her things until she found a delicate, almost translucent human-skin mask in a small box. With a sigh, she carefully applied it in front of the mirror, revealing an ordinary face reflected back at her.

This mask was specially crafted by Marc over several years. After all, she was eventually going to take over Marc's responsibilities in the underworld, and as a young woman, mingling in such dangerous, turbulent environments was inherently risky.

After getting herself ready, she exhaled deeply in front of the mirror before opening the door and stepping outside. She felt a flutter of nerves; he would likely be furious upon seeing her like this, but she had no other choice.

When she went downstairs, she found Albert Wilson leaning against a utility pole, smoking. His tall, graceful figure was almost model-like in its perfection—slim but strong, like a lithe cheetah.

At that moment, one of his hands was tucked into his pants pocket, while the other held a flickering cigarette between his fingers. With his long legs slightly apart, he looked around at the chaotic surroundings, clearly agitated. He tilted his head back to gaze at the clear blue sky. His smoking posture exuded a certain languidness that was undeniably alluring.

As he finished the cigarette and stomped out the smoldering butt on the ground, he turned and caught sight of her approaching from a distance. Her figure was still graceful, but something seemed off! Due to the distance, he couldn't pinpoint what was different about her yet, but he instinctively narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

When she finally stood before him, he felt a violent churn in his stomach. Looking at her plain face, he was nearly sick and couldn't help but feel a fierce anger ignite within him. The composure and elegance that usually graced his face slowly shattered.

Cynthia felt a bit anxious standing there in front of him, but when met with his piercing gaze, she felt her scalp tingle and cold sweat trickle down her back. She struggled to turn her face away, wanting to evade his terrifying stare.

However, he gripped her chin, forcing her head back to face him. The pressure was so intense that it nearly twisted her neck. His voice was as chilling as that of a demon from hell.

"What's going on?"

When he mentioned the wedding photos earlier, he hadn't missed the rejection flickering in her eyes. His anger wasn't directed solely at her plain face, but at her attitude toward this whole situation—she was so resistant to being his woman!

Albert Wilson was someone of considerable stature in the city. Setting aside his prominent status and wealth, he was a man of exceptional qualities, a true standout among men.

Unlike Geraint, who emanated coldness, Albert always had a slight smile at the corners of his lips, resembling a lifelike statue, making every woman's heart flutter at the sight of his smile.

Other women, if treated this way by him, would have been overjoyed. Yet, he repeatedly faced blows to his proud self-esteem from her. Initially, he thought their entanglement wouldn't be too complicated, so he didn't mind it much.

However, gradually, he lost his composure and became increasingly agitated. He was furious, and now he was filled with rage, nearly wanting to kill. Just a vice president, and simply because she wasn't like other women, she dared to act so recklessly. If she went with the flow, she would no longer be herself.

Confronted with such an enraged man, Cynthia felt it would be a lie to say she wasn't scared, but for the sake of her future peace, she mustered her courage and said calmly,

"Mr. Wilson, I think you understand better than I do that this marriage is just a game. I will play my part in every scene until the game ends, but I have the right to plan for my own future, don't I?"

Her nonchalant, indifferent, and calm demeanor only fueled the blood rushing to his head. With a forceful flick of his hand, her slender frame was thrown against the utility pole beside her. His strong fingers wrapped silently around her neck, and his towering figure leaned in closer.

"Try saying that again!"

As his words fell, the pressure on her neck suddenly intensified, making her breathing difficult. Passersby from the neighborhood occasionally glanced over at the tense scene, yet none dared to intervene. At that moment, Cynthia was grateful for the mask she wore; otherwise, she would surely be on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow.

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She gritted her teeth, trying her best to appear unaffected.

"I don't think I'm being unreasonable. I just want to find a safe place to live my own life after this game ends, so please forgive me for not showing my true face right now!"

She spoke with righteous conviction, but Albert Wilson had completely lost his composure. Damn this woman! Had she already planned for her future? Should he praise her maturity or punish her for disregarding him?

Even though her face was obscured by the mask, her eyes shone brightly with a stubbornness and determination he couldn't ignore.

"If you find this face disgusting, then please make sure I never appear in any public setting!"

She maintained her calm demeanor, but Albert Wilson's handsome face darkened, resembling the sky before a storm, thick with clouds and suffocating tension.

Breathing became increasingly difficult. Cynthia suddenly closed her eyes, expecting to suffocate, but instead, the hand gripping her neck abruptly released. She then heard a cold snort escape him, and the oppressive atmosphere around them dissipated.

In a fit of rage, Albert Wilson shoved her away and turned to leave. He feared that if he stayed any longer, he might snap her neck to punish her sharp tongue, stubbornness, and that hint of arrogance in her brows.

Just like that, the wedding photos were never taken. When Cynthia cautiously opened her eyes, all she saw was his figure gradually fading from view. Although he still stood tall, he seemed to carry a hint of sorrow. Her slender hand trembled as it brushed her neck, the lingering pain reminding her of the earlier storm.

Alright, alright, another unhappy parting. She couldn't fathom why things always ended up like this between them. She didn't understand why she could so easily provoke his anger or if he was simply an irritable person.

After several encounters, it was either her storming off in a huff or him leaving in a rage.

Things seemed far more difficult and complicated than she had imagined. She thought they could coexist peacefully, but it appeared she had to be on high alert dealing with this man. She prided herself on being perceptive, yet he remained an enigma.

Hopefully, after the wedding, they would indeed behave as they had agreed—respectful in public and living separate lives, best pretending not to know each other when they met.

After each discord, there followed a long silence between them. As the wedding date drew nearer, she continued to live her life leisurely. Bonnie, however, was frantic for her. That day, after seeing her return from the orphanage utterly exhausted, Bonnie lost her mind.

"Cynthia, are you really not preparing anything? You're just going to get married like this?"

"What do I need to prepare?"