He got up, straightened his wrinkled clothes and looked down at her. "Don't worry. I won't blame you for
slapping me."
His tone and posture were damned arrogant, as if the woman sitting in the big bed could be strangled
at any time.
He seemed to acquiesce in the topic of their relationship.
Consuela snorted. She raised her hand to wipe the tears off her face. No matter how coward and weak
she was, she didn't want to talk about it in front of this man.
Pressing her lips together, she turned her head aside to avoid eye contact with him. "You are the one in
charge of the marriage all the time. I'm just a puppet doll. I just need to cooperate with you."
She said in a low and hoarse voice and looked dispirited. With a pair of bright black and white eyes, no
one noticed her deep love.
In the stalemate, the man with obvious red marks on his face walked into her, raised the corners of his
lips and pinched her jaw, forcing her to look up.
Her cheeks were burning with the hot breath of his perfume. Squinting slightly, he asked, "have you no
shame?"
He grabbed her much harder. If he didn't stop, she might have to go to the plastic surgeon.
The chill rose from the bottom of her heart, but her face remained calm. She looked up at the man, and
a mocking smile appeared on her delicate face.
"What else can you do except forcing me? This is what happened when we got married, and it is still
the case now! "
"I can't compare with you. Didn't you drug me and climb up my bed? Was that your first time sleeping
with a man? Your hymen was well mended. Did you pay a lot of money?"
The smile at the corners of the man's mouth seemed to be a bit coquettish. He loosened his hand and
ground his beautiful lips, with a crazy look of destruction in his eyes.
She was getting more and more rebellious. She really thought she was the queen when she was
pregnant.
Enraged by his words, Consuela restrained her impulse to raise her hand again, shook off his hand,
and retreated a few steps. She buried her head between her knees, without saying anything else.
It could be regarded as a self-protection action to admit defeat.
After he focused his eyes on the woman for a long time, he failed to compose himself. He slammed the
door and left.
Soon, the car drove away. Hearing the loud bang, Consuela raised her head and looked out of the
window, feeling completely at a loss. Their relationship had again fallen into the ice valley.
And she didn't want to redeem or compromise anymore. No one should be inferior to others when born.
She raised her hand and gently touched her swollen belly. Her nose ached from time to time, but she
couldn't say a word. The two of them had been in a stalemate. Children would suffer in the future.
Lowering her head, Consuela apologized in a hoarse voice, "I'm sorry, baby."
A distorted marriage and a daily quarrel. She could not sit still and wait for death, even for the sake of
her child.
That man seemed to have been almost forgotten. In fact, she was a human being with her own thinking
ability. She was not an emotionless toy who was casually cheated by him.
She would hurt, and she would also be sad.
Richie drove to a private apartment in L City. He took out the key from his pocket and walked inside the
house. The glaze lights were soft.
A figure in dark walked through the room. He frowned and opened a door with wine in it, only to see
several men lying on the sofa.
They were all elites in suits, but they were all drunk and unconscious.
He stepped around the sofa and walked towards the wine cabinet. His leather shoes collided with the
broken glass pieces on the ground, making a slight crisp sound.
The window was closed, and the thick curtain was drawn. Only the light above his head was on.
Rubbing his forehead, he found a clean glass and poured himself a glass of red wine.
Richie couldn't feel a trace of peace. It seemed that he had been tied up by a hemp rope, which turned
him into a passive situation. He raised the wine glass and gulped it down.
Glancing at the three people on the sofa, he had no choice but to sigh. He carried the wine and walked
to the balcony, looking up at the dark sky, his deep eyes full of helplessness.
He had thought for a few seconds that he would be able to live a peaceful life with Consuela, but now it
didn't make any sense.
No matter how he thought about her, in his eyes, she was nothing more than an obedient toy.
Ah, he sneered and raised his hand to touch his swollen half face. He hissed as if he had touched
some bleeding wound.
Which toy could be so disobedient?
She had nothing to do so she wanted to have a row with him to vent her anger.
This time, he would never lower his head first, no matter how embarrassed they would be in the future.
He didn't know how long he had stayed on the balcony. The cigarette ash had accumulated a lot and
the wine had been bottomed up. Suddenly, a man's voice came from somewhere. "Oh, you are a rare
guest. Why does a person, who hasn't come for eight hundred years, now come here?"
The man seemed to tease him deliberately. He looked down at his watch and sighed in surprise.
Suddenly, a bottle was thrown at his feet. Fragments of glass cut through his bare skin, and he took a
few steps back with pain.
When he was about to argue with Richie, he heard the cold voice. "I don't want to ruin your pretty face.
Stop it and get out of here."
That man tightened his lips and took a few steps back. "Well, you keep struggling and sadness. I'll shut
up," he said.
In response, Richie smashed a glass at his face, which made him jump onto the sofa and snort to the
sleeping man lying on it.
The next morning, Richie woke up in a bed he was not familiar with. The harsh sunlight forced him to
squint a little, and he straightened his mood before standing up.
In this apartment, there were only hourly workers busy in cleaning.
The four of them invested and bought the apartment together to have fun or have a rest when they
didn't want to stay at home.
When he was still lost in his thought, a woman came up to him and asked, "Sir, do you need some
clothes?"
Hearing that, he looked down at his clothes. He did not know what was wrong with his dark suit jacket
and most of the buttons of his white shirt were pulled off.
It wasn't his fault. He didn't do it.
Richie rubbed his forehead and took a few deep breaths. Then he returned to his face, gnashed his
teeth and said, Yes, I need it."
It didn't seem that his mood wasn't lightened up by the fact that he was here. Instead, he felt more
upset.
He turned around and walked into the room again, feeling a surge of missing. If Consuela were here,
she would never let him sleep so untidy.
Just as this thought came into his mind, his face stiffened. At such a critical moment, he was still
thinking of that unscrupulous woman.
He pursed his lips slightly, but suddenly pulled his wound. His face completely darkened.
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