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Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Immortal Husband

Chapter 9 

Word Count: 762    |    Released on: Today at 21:34

ne Goo

around my waist and stepped half a step back. T

ool them," he explained, though his fingertips s

s fine, it's part of the contract. But your mother said you should t

't. I've saved up quite a lot of annual leav

heart, but I kept my composure on the surface: "All

-interference was completely broken; o

t my workbench, while Cyril sat on the living room sofa

ds, even thousands, of cross-border asset acqui

ly the rustle of turning parchment

profile as he worked intently extremely ca

e seconds, Cyril would, as if he had eyes in the ba

rt raced, and I would quickly

ened, a torrential rain began to fall

nd got up to pour myse

up. "I ordered dinner delivery; it'll be here soon. Also, I can see yo

y planned to go to New York for a small antique salon

. "I'll book your flight and hotel. As a husband on leave, accompanyin

ce in his eyes, and thinking that going to New York alone

ef braving the rain: still my favorite d

tside grew heavier and he

st bedroom. Just as I was about to

bin was plunged into

lind and stood froze

sounded in the darkness, unusua

hand accurately grasped my wrist a

ss was like daylight; he could clearly

s me, and merely held me steady. "The power lines may have b

ly steady steps, as if darknes

and the faint candlelight danced ov

time with candlelight between us, from amusing anecdo

elight. For the first time, I felt that this absurd

Swee

a and fall into a deep sleep, I g

elease without reservation the obses

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Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Immortal Husband
Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Immortal Husband
“I entered a contractual marriage with Cyril Sweeney just to protect my antique restoration studio from local developers. I thought he was merely an eccentric, wealthy cargo pilot, but I soon realized I had married a monster. His skin was colder than ice, he could throw a grown man across a room effortlessly, and strangers in tailored suits dropped to their knees calling him "My Lord." But the most agonizing part was his violent rejection of me. Whenever I got close, or accidentally scraped my skin and bled, he would shove me away like I was a plague. His glacial eyes would turn pitch black, his throat convulsing as if fighting a demon. "Run before I kill you!" He roared at me with a feral, terrifying rasp, his hands clawing at his own throat. The final straw came when I found an antique pocket watch on his desk, holding a faded photograph of a young girl. I realized I wasn't a wife; I was just a convenient, nameless replacement for a ghost he still carried over his dead heart. I didn't understand why he looked at me with such desperate agony, nor why my blood drove him to the brink of madness. I didn't know the girl in the photograph was actually me from ten years ago. As I slammed my truck into reverse to escape his haunted glass villa, I had no idea the real nightmare was just beginning.”