Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 215- Cynthia, I love you

Cynthia ignored their surprise, turned around, and walked into her office. As the producer, she naturally had to stay backstage at night to monitor the live broadcast.

When the broadcast reached the much-anticipated World Financial Summit and was about to connect to the live feed, the anchor, Anna, could no longer control the tremor in her voice. Her expression had escalated to full-blown infatuation. Cynthia had to coldly remind her through the earpiece: "Anna, please speak properly!"

The next second, the screen switched to the conference site. There seemed to be another meeting that evening. He was still dressed in a meticulously formal suit, looking dashing and imposing. His deep black eyes gleamed with a commanding arrogance, so intense that the surrounding staff didn’t dare to meet his gaze.

What shocked everyone the most was that the man, who was rumored to be difficult to deal with, was actually smiling. His brows and eyes were filled with warmth. Anna was so mesmerized by his smile that she nearly let out a scream. Cynthia and the staff had to remind her several times before she finally regained her composure and continued with the interview.

Cynthia stood with her arms crossed, watching him through the television screen as he calmly, wisely, and wittily answered the reporters’ questions. She didn’t understand a word of his economic analysis, but that didn’t matter—she just kept staring at him.

She had already experienced his wit and brilliance years ago when he gave a speech at her school. Back then, she had worshiped him completely, seeing him as her sky. But after all these years, why did she still think he was so incredibly handsome?

His smile was truly captivating—his eyes and brows carried an air of confidence and recklessness, as if the whole world was under his feet. And especially when he smiled at her, she always had a feeling... a feeling that she was his one and only.

As the live connection was about to end, as if he knew she was watching from behind the screen, he flirtatiously threw a wink at the camera. His bright, dazzling gaze seemed to pierce straight through to her. Her face instantly flushed red. Fortunately, the backstage studio was dimly lit, and everyone was too absorbed in his sharp insights to notice her reaction.

However, the very next second, she caught a fleeting glint of mischief in his eyes. In a flash, she shouted into her earpiece,

"Director, cut the connection immediately and switch back to the studio!"

"Anna, get ready!"

Everyone had been momentarily distracted, but her crisp and commanding voice instantly snapped them back to focus. They quickly returned to their respective tasks, working with renewed concentration.

So, just as Albert finished saying the words "Thank you," before he could utter his next sentence, the signal was abruptly cut off. The reporter interviewing him called out repeatedly, only to realize the connection had been severed. Albert gritted his teeth in frustration.

He had agreed to this live broadcast for his own reasons. In the final moments, he had planned to say: "Cynthia, I love you."

He had wanted to seize this opportunity to confess his feelings in front of the entire nation, staking his claim once and for all. He didn’t care about the consequences or any so-called "impact"—all he wanted was to make it clear to everyone that she belonged to him.

But to his surprise, she had seen right through him and spectacularly foiled his plan.

Damn woman.

Four years apart, and she had grown much sharper. Frustrated but helpless, he could only clench his jaw and head toward the lounge.

On the other end, Cynthia watched as the live broadcast returned to normal. She stood there, clutching her chest, breathing heavily.

Oh my God, that was close.

If he had actually said something he shouldn’t have just now—broadcasted nationwide—she wouldn’t be able to stay at this network anymore. Anna and the others would probably tear her apart.

Not just her— even LTC TV itself might have been in jeopardy. One blacklist order from the National Broadcasting Administration would have been enough to shut them down. After all, what kind of TV station would dare air a blatant love confession during a prime-time news segment?

As the broadcast wrapped up, the night’s ratings were slowly printed out, accompanied by the steady hum of the printer. Cynthia held the report in her hands, and the corners of her lips curled up slightly.

The ratings had surged by three whole percentage points.

Looks like the first fire she had set... was burning quite well.

Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge, Jim was sweating profusely, juggling multiple roles. He was buried in paperwork, organizing files, printing documents, and constantly refreshing his inbox in between tasks.

That woman...

Ever since she had vanished without a word that night, several days had passed, yet she remained completely silent.

Her phone had been turned off 24/7 , and no matter how many calls he made, he never got through. He had no choice but to send her email after email.

"I’m sorry, I was wrong. You can yell at me, hit me, do whatever you want—but please, at least reply. Just let me know you’re safe, okay?"

Yet, she never wrote back.

He had already refreshed his inbox thousands of times, but there was still nothing.

Frustrated, he finally sent a more ruthless message:

"Monica, don’t push me. If you keep this up, I’ll search the entire world to find you!"

Just as he finished sending the email, his boss strode in and ordered,

"Book me a flight for tomorrow night. As soon as the meeting ends, I’m heading back."

Jim was puzzled.

"But, boss, the meeting won’t end until late at night. Are you sure you want to take a red-eye flight back?"

His boss simply responded with a firm "Yes."

Jim sighed and was just about to contact the ticketing office when a notification popped up— a new email.

He hurriedly opened it, his heart pounding.

There was only one word.

"Get lost!"

It was from Monica.

For a moment, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Laugh—because she had finally responded. At least this proved she was alive and well.

Cry—because the only thing she had to say to him... was a cold, single word.