Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
As she tried to express herself, her words emerged shaky, resembling more like a playful protest.
Cornell observed her flushed face, drawing nearer with his charismatic presence, his intent unclear. “You seem to disapprove of my suggestion?”
Pinned against the seat, Audrey found no escape. She felt trapped as he closed in, inch by inch. She knew if she argued with him further, he would simply kiss her until her knees grew weak once more.
Audrey’s stubborn resolve crumbled, and as she spoke, her voice quivered as if she were on the verge of tears. “Nothing of that sort.
I am fine with your suggestion…”
“Even so, I feel I shouldn’t kiss you anymore since I fear…”
Cornell’s tone was rough, breaking off to gently bite her soft earlobe. “I fear I won’t stop at just a kiss.”
Audrey’s face turned even more crimson.
The car finally arrived at West lake Villa.
The cool breeze did little to ease Audrey’s flushed cheeks. Despite Cornell’s words of not kissing her, he continued to kiss her tenderly for a while longer. He even experienced an erection. She felt too shy to even glance his way.
Yet, Cornell seemed in high spirits, entirely at ease from head to toe. He stepped out of the car and led Audrey into the house.
At the entrance, Cornell softly whispered, “Audrey, do not push me away anymore, alright?”
Audrey was stunned. “I…”
Cornell patiently suggested, “Take your time. I’d like to hear your thoughts later.” It seemed he harbored some hesitance about pressing for an immediate response.
Throughout the night, Audrey found sleep elusive, her mind replaying the day’s interactions.
Her thoughts were in chaos. Had they reconciled? To label their encounters as reconciliatory felt incomplete. Yet, the denial of such, paired with their closeness, indicated a level of intimacy that went beyond mere acquaintance.
Audrey’s thoughts were interrupted by her vibrating phone. She picked it up and noticed a message from Cornell. “I’ll be heading out for a brief trip to Berton and return by noon the day after tomorrow. Stay safe and let me know if you plan to go out.”
Knowing precisely what he was up to filled Audrey with a sense of security. Her cheeks turned warm again.
Then, she slightly frowned. She hadn’t requested updates on his whereabouts. His plans weren’t her concern!
Lost in her thoughts, Audrey tossed her phone aside and hid her face in her pillow. Dwelling on these things seemed to yield nothing. A sleep was in order.
Aurora.
In a well-lit, spacious living room.
A man of distinguished appearance sat leisurely on a couch, idly swirling a glass of red wine, and asked in a relaxed manner, “Is everything resolved?”
His assistant replied, “Yes, sir”.
“And the blood test results?” the man, known as Davey Glyn, asked.
With due respect, the assistant presented a sealed document, saying, “Here you are, sir.”
Davey set aside his wine, carefully opened the document, and perused its details. The blood test suggested Audrey was precisely Casey’s daughter.
A cold smile appeared as Davey stood and disposed of the document in the shredder.
Following that, he unlocked a securely fastened iron door and entered a basement beneath the ground.
Despite being called a basement, the space was lavishly furnished, radiating luxury and grandeur.
Davey moved toward a bed where a woman, likely in her mid-thirties to early forties, was sleeping soundly. Her features were impeccably balanced, her eyelashes long and captivating, embodying the essence of serene beauty. She was such a beauty.
Davey gently tilted his head, tenderly kissed the woman on her forehead, and said softly, “Casey, your daughter is really blessed. Do you think I should end her life?”
In the room dominated by a grand bed, silk curtains of intricate designs and vivid colors danced lightly, a testament to Davey’s eye for detail and depth of treasure for Casey.
Davey, with a gesture as tender as the morning light, tucked a loose strand of hair behind Casey’s ear, his gaze heavy with unspoken affection.
Just then, a soft knock interrupted the quiet of the room.
“Come in,” Davey invited.
Into the room stepped a woman, her vision framed by black glasses, dressed in the stark contrast of a white shirt and black pants. She was Jimena Hinks, entrusted with the health of the Glyn family as their private doctor.
Noticing Davey by the bed, Jimena offered a bow of respect and voiced her inquiry, “Mr. Glyn, should I administer acupuncture to her now or later?”
“Now,” Davey stated with a calm that filled the room.
“Very well.”
Davey made way as Jimena drew closer, preparing the space with a professional ease and starting with a head massage meant to soothe Casey into the treatment. Jimena’s hands moved with precision, betraying a dedication to her craft.
Despite the countless times Jimena’s hands had performed these motions, Casey’s beauty never ceased to dazzle Jimena.
Casey was such a beauty that almost all men would pause in wonder whenever they laid eyes on her. Time had only added layers to her allure, crafting a presence that could stir envy and admiration in any onlooker, not just men.
Davey’s choice to shield Casey away in this secluded sanctuary, hidden from the world’s eyes for years, suddenly seemed like the only sensible thing to do.
One by one, each slender, sharp needle found its place in Casey’s scalp, meticulously activating each acupoint with a gentle precision.
Davey watched this process unfold, his attention unwavering. Despite Jimena’s near-decade of service, his trust in her remained guarded, much like his trust in anyone else.
Davey waited silently, until Jimena began the careful removal of each needle after thirty minutes.
It was then that his phone broke the silence, prompting Davey to answer. “What’s the matter?”
The voice on the other end belonged to Katie.
Even on the phone, Davey’s eyes remained glued on Casey and Jimena’s methodical movements.
“How long do these injections last, in general?” Katie asked.
“It varies. For some, a month. For others, two, even three,” Davey explained.
“And if the last injection is given, will things really happen as you’ve said?” Katie probed.
Davey chuckled lightly, his voice as cold as a poisoned blade. “Katie, it seems you’re still clinging to a sliver of mercy.”
“Davey, I just…” Katie’s voice faltered.
“Enough,” Davey cut in sharply, his patience frayed. “I’m not your father. I don’t have time to guide you through everything. You need to work it out yourself.”
With a definitive click, Davey hung up.
Suddenly, a sharp exclamation cut through the silence.
“Ah!” It was Jimena, standing by the bed in alarm.
“Casey!” Davey, with swift concern, closed the distance between him and Casey. A thorough look reassured him. Casey was undisturbed, her peace intact.
“Why the outcry?” The question came from Davey, his eyes sparking with an icy warning, sending a wave of intimidation crashing over Jimena.
“I…” Jimena’s words faltered, trapped in her throat.
Davey’s gaze followed Jimena’s, landing on a solitary drop of blood on Casey’s finger. “Did you harm her?” His voice, though laced with worry, demanded an explanation.
“It was because…” Jimena barely began before a sudden movement interrupted.
Smack! Davey’s hand connected sharply with Jimena’s face.
“Ah!” Jimena was sent tumbling to the floor with a startled cry.
The slap resounded sharply, leaving its mark.
Jimena cradled her face, now swelling and partially numb, as a trickle of blood edged its way from her mouth, a stark testament to Davey’s harshness.
“Jimena… Davey’s voice softened, adopting a calm and gentle tone, his lips curving in a semblance of a smile. Yet, the warmth of his voice belied the coldness of his words, sending a chill through Jimena.
“This is the first time,” he stated, a simple phrase heavy with ominous implication.
Jimena felt as though she had been seared by hot iron. The memory of Davey uttering these words before lingered with haunting clarity. The individual he had warned previously vanished after a second misstep, only to be discovered later by fishermen, a nameless victim of the sharks.
The chatter among the bodyguards by the door had revealed the fate of the unnamed. Swollen and disfigured from the water, yet still recognizable.
In a silent act of compassion, the bodyguards had managed to secure half of the remains, ensuring a respectful burial.
Davey’s words, thus, carried a grave finality, a declaration that there would be no tolerance for a repeat offense. Overcome with fear, Jimena stifled any words she might have had, her gaze fixed away from Davey.
“Get out!” Davey’s command was terse.
Scrambling to her feet, Jimena stumbled in her haste to leave, her exit clumsy yet quick. Despite her disarray, she made sure to close the door behind her, a small act of propriety in the midst of her turmoil.