My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 77:

Kristopher wasted no time. He pushed open the door to Carrie’s private room with a stride that carried the weight of his simmering anger. “Carrie! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

Inside, Carrie was no longer the fierce, fiery figure she had been moments earlier. Her earlier indignation had been consumed by the haze of intoxication, leaving her in a drunken stupor. She was just about to collapse onto the couch for a nap when a tall, sharp silhouette stepped into the room.

Even through the blur clouding her vision, the man’s presence was unmistakable. His distinguished bearing and cool demeanor stood out like a beacon amidst the earlier chaos. His resemblance to Kristopher was uncanny—so much so that Carrie let out a breathy laugh.

Taking a few unsteady steps forward, she promptly lost her balance and tumbled right into his arms. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, her body didn’t resist the contact. Her fingers grazed his face in a playful pat as she giggled. “Well, well, what do we have here? Finally, a proper imitation! This place had you hidden away all along, huh? They really saved the best for last.”

Her voice, tinged with flirtation, carried a dreamy lilt. She made no effort to leave his embrace; in fact, she seemed perfectly content nestled there.

Kristopher stared down at her, his jaw tightening as his mind replayed the sight of those toy boys slinking out of the room. His mood darkened further. Even if she was drunk, did that give her the right to so casually fall into another man’s arms? His thoughts spiraled, wondering how far her recklessness had gone.

Suppressing his fury, he resolved that this wasn’t the time to confront her. Without a word, he swept her up into his arms, her weight barely registering as he carried her out of the room. Carrie didn’t resist; instead, she looped her arms around his neck, her smile as sweet as it was oblivious. To anyone watching, they might have looked like a couple caught in the thrall of young love.

Pausing at the door, Kristopher cast a pointed glance toward Albin. “Erase any security footage,” he ordered, his tone cold and absolute.

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Albin, watching the scene unfold, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His eyes followed Kristopher and Carrie until they disappeared into the distance, his mind churning with unspoken observations.

At the door of the Oasis Club, Oliver stood by the car, holding the door open with the stoic patience of a butler in an old drama. Kristopher’s voice dripped with acidity. “By day, business partners. By night, toy boys. Carrie, you’ve certainly mastered time management. I can’t believe I fell for your ‘perfect wife’ act!” He roughly pushed Carrie into the backseat before sliding in beside her.

Oliver, learning from a previous encounter, quickly raised the divider between the front and back seats. Carrie winced from the abrupt movement, her delicate features scrunching in discomfort. She attempted to sit upright but felt so unsteady that she collapsed against Kristopher’s body.

Seizing the moment, she looked up at him, her voice defensive. “Don’t blame me! I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t even touch those toy boys!” Kristopher’s jaw clenched. “You’re disappointed about that?” Disbelieving her words, he roughly grabbed her chin, meticulously examining her neck and behind her ears for any signs of intimate contact. Her skin was so sensitive that even the gentlest touch could leave a mark.

After his thorough examination, he leaned back. Aside from the faint scent of alcohol clinging to her, there were no signs of anyone else.noveldrama

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, meeting his gaze with wide, innocent eyes and breaking free from his grip. Still tipsy, she momentarily forgot her pain and leaned in, softly tracing his face with her fingers. “I felt no regret earlier. But now that you’ve caught my eye, I want more than just holding hands with you!”

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