NOVPUB
Chapter 61 - 61- I don’t need your fake sympathy!
The next day's newspaper blared with bold headlines, covering an entire page with photos of her striking red hair and graceful figure. The enlarged black text practically burned her eyes:
" Wilson's Mysterious Wife Revealed, Passionate Kiss in the Snow at the Hospital!"
" Wilson Confirms: She Is the Official Mrs. Wilson!"
" Wilson Declares: They Are Doing Well and Very Happy!"
Each picture and headline made her head throb, and her eyes involuntarily drifted to one of the images, where a solitary figure appeared in the background, captured inadvertently by the photographer. Her gaze darkened as she ran her fingers lightly over the words, tracing Vincent's face.
"Vince, they say the hardest part of love isn't whether two people are truly in love, but in maintaining that love over time. Life is not just one day. I never believed it before, but now, I can't help but believe in fate and reality. Please, live a happy, healthy, and beautiful life."
She had just placed the newspaper down when the doorbell rang. Surprised, she walked over and opened the door to find Jim, the assistant, standing there politely.
"Miss Lancaster, the Vice President has sent me to take you somewhere."
"Where?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"I'm afraid I can't say right now," Jim replied, looking uncomfortable. "If I told you, there's a good chance you wouldn't go, and if that happened, I'd be in big trouble."
He couldn't help but glance at her striking red hair, feeling a sigh escape him. "Is he really going too far? She just changed her hairstyle—what's the big deal? Yet he insisted I come get her and take her to the styling room. He probably plans to make her redo that hair."
"What is he doing?" Cynthia muttered with annoyance.
"You can call him directly to ask," Jim kindly suggested.
He knew Cynthia was incredibly stubborn. If he couldn't give her a concrete location, there was no way she would follow him. Their boss was always passing on these troublesome tasks to him, never once bothering Monica, the enchanting one.
Jim couldn't help but grumble to himself, but just as he was about to say something, Cynthia had already gone inside to grab her phone and dial Albert Wilson. After just a few sentences, her face turned from confusion to a grim, ashen expression.
Cynthia's hands shook slightly as she ended the call with Albert. She quickly grabbed her coat and hurriedly followed Jim down the stairs. The reason for her sudden departure was simple: he had told her, "If you want the Maureen Lancaster family to stay safe, come with me."
That devil, Albert Wilson, was already targeting the Maureen Lancaster family. Even if he wasn't behind what happened to Grace Lancaster, the punishment he had set in motion was more than enough for Grace. Now, he was turning his attention to the next target.
Cynthia's heart sank as the car came to a stop in front of the lavishly decorated salon. She remembered what he had said yesterday: *"We'll deal with your hair later."*
Her face paled further. She already had a strong suspicion about what he had in mind, but she couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort. Why did it matter to him what kind of hairstyle she wore? She wasn't his secretary, nor his assistant. Although she was his wife, they never appeared in public together—what difference did her appearance make to him?
Why did he keep interfering, pressuring, and bullying her to the point where she couldn't take it anymore and would snap?
Pulling her coat tightly around herself, she walked into the salon, feeling a wave of heat from the air conditioning.
He was already there, lounging on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, casually reading the newspaper. She could tell from the grin on his face that the newspaper must have been to his liking.
He wore a perfectly tailored black-and-gray striped suit, paired with a white shirt with subtle patterns, and a cobalt blue tie. The entire look made him appear sharp, commanding, and full of authority. People often said that having a good figure and elegant demeanor was essential for a man in a suit, and he checked both boxes effortlessly. On top of that, his handsome face only added to his appeal.
Even though he was just sitting there reading the newspaper, he still attracted the attention of the women in the salon.
When he saw her walk in, he stood up and walked over, wrapping his arms around her in a friendly embrace. Cynthia instinctively tried to push him away, but when she saw a stylish and confident woman approaching, she stopped herself.
He tightened his hold, smiling as he introduced the woman to her.
"This is my personal stylist, Sofia."
Cynthia gave a stiff nod, offering a forced smile. She knew that her expression probably looked worse than if she were crying. The stylist, Sofia, returned a polite but faint smile.
Albert, not content with just introducing her, lifted a strand of Cynthia's wine-red hair and looked at Sofia with a displeased expression.
"Sofia, straighten her hair and dye it black."
"Of course, Vice President."
Sofia looked at Albert with a lingering gaze before she shifted her attention to Cynthia.
"Mrs. Wilson, please this way."
Cynthia remained rooted in place, unwilling to move. Sofia awkwardly stood there, unsure of what to do. Albert, noticing her hesitation, shot a glance at Cynthia before signaling for Sofia and the staff to step back.
He sat down on the sofa in front of her, furrowing his brows, as he tried to find the right words.
"This hairstyle doesn't suit you. It's beautiful... but it's too flashy." n𝚘𝚟𝚙u𝚋.co𝚖
Cynthia, trembling with anger, finally spoke, her voice quivering.
"Why do you do this to me?"
She suddenly lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes full of raw pain, with unshed tears glistening at the corners.
His expression darkened, but he remained silent.
"Why do you always impose your will on me?" Cynthia continued, her fists clenched at her sides as her chest rose and fell with each labored breath.
"Why do I have to change my hair just because you don't like it? Why do you insist that everyone follow your commands, whether they like it or not? And if someone dares to disagree, you find ways to torment them!"
As she spoke, her tears began to fall freely, and she wiped them away in a futile attempt to regain composure. She hated herself for crying again, especially when she prided herself on being strong. Why did she keep breaking down in front of him?
Albert's eyes narrowed as he watched her tear-streaked face. He grumbled under his breath, his irritation bubbling over. *What was the big deal about changing her hairstyle? Was it really worth all the drama?* Didn't she realize how much attention she attracted with that look? The moment she stepped outside, every man's gaze was glued to her.
Sure, part of it was due to her striking beauty, but the rest was because of the allure she exuded—her face, her figure, everything about her.
She was so stunning, yet she refused to acknowledge that all that beauty was his, that it belonged to Albert Wilson. Instead, she either wore too much makeup or hid behind an ugly mask of indifference.
Cynthia wiped her eyes, realizing that it wasn't the first time she had cried in front of him. She gave in to her emotions, allowing herself the release of tears. She was determined to finally voice all the resentment she had been harboring for so long.
Cynthia wiped her nose, her resolve hardening with every word she spoke, reckless and unrestrained.
"Albert Wilson, if you don't understand the world others live in, then stop meddling in their affairs!"
His face darkened further, like the sky before a storm, and she didn't flinch, meeting his piercing gaze head-on, her words sharp and deliberate.
"Didn't we agree when we got married? We'd each go our separate ways, yet here you are, repeatedly breaking that agreement and interfering in my life without reason."
"Every time you show up, my life turns into a mess, bad luck follows me everywhere. Albert Wilson, I hope you never show up in front of me again!"
The last words tore out of her throat, almost a scream of desperation.
Albert shot to his feet, towering over her, his imposing presence pushing her back as he moved toward her. His voice came cold, like a demon's from the depths of hell.
"Is this how you see me?"
She lifted her tear-streaked face, meeting his furious gaze.
"Yes! This is exactly how I see you!"
"You're domineering, selfish, cold, heartless, cruel, and ruthless! You never care about anyone's feelings but your own! Who the hell do you think you are? Do you think the world revolves around you?"
Cynthia felt her anger blaze through her, burning away all sense of reason. She used every harsh word she could think of, throwing them at him with all the venom she had inside.
As she spoke, she saw the veins on his forehead bulge, as though threatening to tear through his skin, the storm in his eyes intensifying with every second.
She instinctively recoiled, but she stood firm, biting her lip, refusing to look away. Jim, who had quietly entered behind her, wisely pressed himself against the wall, becoming invisible.
Sofia and the rest of the staff huddled at the back, caught in the tense atmosphere, too scared to breathe, their eyes darting nervously, as if afraid the scene would explode further.
After a long pause, Albert kicked over a few chairs in his path, his fury palpable as he stormed past her, not sparing a glance as he left the room, his anger radiating in every step.
The tension in the room broke in an instant. The air felt lighter, and Cynthia found herself able to breathe again. Even Jim sighed in relief, though he still looked at her with concern.
Jim approached her gently, his tone softer than before. "Miss Lancaster, let me take you back."
"Get away from me! I don't need your fake sympathy!" she snapped, her voice rising as she stormed past him, pushing his hand away.
Without another word, she rushed out the door, leaving the chaos behind.
