Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.

She would never forget the words her delicate and beautiful mother left her on her deathbed. Her mother had told her to retrieve the diamond bracelet and go find her biological father to reunite with him.

Yes, William S. Lancaster was not her biological father! This was something that perhaps even William himself didn't know. Back then, her mother had been forcibly taken by William S. Lancaster through despicable means. Before he had violated her, she was already pregnant, but the doctor her mother had begged to see had lied to William.

So, this secret was known only by her, her mother, and that doctor.

William didn't treat her well, and based on her analysis, she believed it was because as she grew older, she looked more and more like her mother. Each time he saw her, it reminded him of the sin he had committed, which made him avoid her as much as possible.

Ignoring the furious voice of William S. Lancaster behind her, she leisurely walked down the corridor toward the exit. At the staircase on the first floor, which she had to pass, she saw two figures in purple locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies tightly entwined.

Standing at the top of the stairs, her hand resting on the banister, she looked down coldly at the couple below. She had seen this scene so many times that it no longer fazed her. It was just Grace Lancaster showing off her affection with Vincent in front of her again.

She admitted that in the beginning, seeing them like this had caused her immense pain, and she had even felt an urge to tear them apart. But two years had passed, and she believed her heart had grown impenetrable.

Turning her gaze away indifferently, she walked down the stairs as if nothing had happened, passing by the two of them without a glance, treating them as if they didn't exist.

After she left, Vincent forcefully pushed Grace Lancaster off of him. His handsome face was filled with displeasure.

"Grace Lancaster, that's enough!"

Earlier, when they were drinking outside, she had suddenly dragged him inside without a care in the world. He had thought she had something to say, but then she suddenly held him tightly and kissed him.

When he saw that white figure at the top of the stairs, he realized her true intentions. However, her indifference and coldness only made him feel more pained.

Grace Lancaster laughed lightly as she reached out to straighten his slightly disheveled tie.

"Vince, I heard you took her out for coffee a few days ago?"

Vincent's face darkened with even more displeasure.

"You're following me?"

Grace Lancaster didn't deny it, continuing to smile.

"How was it? Did having coffee with your sister-in-law feel great? Did it bring back that first love feeling?"

"Grace Lancaster, don't do such childish things anymore!"

He shot her a cold glare, straightened his clothes, and left without looking back.

The coldest thing isn't when someone ignores you completely, not even sparing a word, but when they talk to you, follow your every wish, and live with you day after day—yet there's always a vast, insurmountable distance between you. No matter how hard you try, you can never reach their heart.

That's how it was for Vincent when it came to Grace Lancaster.

After Cynthia left the house, she slowly walked toward the backyard alone. She hadn't gone far when she was suddenly grabbed by Doreen Lancaster, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"Cynthia, you'd better be smart and give up on Albert Wilson yourself!"

Cynthia was indeed startled by her sudden appearance, but she quickly regained her composure. She pulled her wrist free from Doreen's grasp and smiled, radiating innocence.

"Doreen, if you want something, you should get it yourself. Isn't it a bit too unbecoming to force me to step aside so aggressively?"

Doreen Lancaster hated that look on her face the most—so innocent, so calm, but with words that could drive anyone mad.

"Cynthia, you wretched woman!"

Doreen, trembling with rage, raised her hand again to slap her. Cynthia didn't flinch, her expression remaining steady, though a dangerous glint appeared in her eyes.

Suddenly, Doreen's raised hand was caught by a larger one. A low, magnetic voice followed, "Miss Doreen, such beautiful fingers—what a waste it would be to use them for hitting."

The man held her fingers, caressing them playfully.

Shocked and furious, Doreen turned to look at the newcomer. Her carefully made-up face flushed with embarrassment.

"Albert, what are you saying? I wasn't going to hit anyone. I just wanted to fix my hair, that's all," she said with a coquettish smile, her body leaning provocatively against him.

"Really? Miss Doreen, your hair could certainly use some attention," Albert Wilson chuckled, lifting a strand of her hair to his nose as if to smell it, though his eyes discreetly flicked toward the figure standing across from them.

Seeing Cynthia's unruffled demeanor, he couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration. How could she just stand there, time after time, letting herself be slapped without fighting back? Didn't she know how to resist?

When he had arrived at the Lancaster estate and spotted a flash of white entering through the side gate, he had guessed it was her. He'd followed Doreen Lancaster to the backyard, and sure enough, there she was.

Cynthia shot him a fierce glare before turning and walking away. Meddling man! She had been waiting for Doreen's slap to land so she could retaliate with one of her own.

She was sure that if she had delivered that slap, Doreen Lancaster's face wouldn't have been seen in public for days. But that man ruined it, and the thought of it made her seethe.

She wasn't someone who held grudges, nor did she enjoy conflicts, but she definitely wasn't the kind of person to let others walk all over her. She could tolerate Doreen Lancaster once, maybe even twice, but the third time? She would make sure to deliver a slap so fierce that no one could rival it.

Walking alone, she meandered through the twists and turns of the estate until she reached the locust tree by the wall. This tree had been here for as long as she could remember, its trunk so wide that it would take more than one person to wrap their arms around it.

Now, in mid-April, the tree was in full bloom, its flowers in full splendor. She tilted her head back, her nose stinging with emotion. Why did it seem like everyone was challenging her? Grace Lancaster, Doreen Lancaster, William S Lancaster… Did they all despise her so much?

A breeze swept past, carrying the sweet scent of the locust blossoms, gently swirling around her nose. It reminded her of a time when, under this very tree, someone had kissed her lips with the same unexpected gentleness as the wind. That had been her first kiss.

The ache in her chest grew heavier. She took a few steps forward and pressed her body against the trunk of the locust tree, then gracefully lifted herself into a handstand against the tree. Ever since she was a child, whenever she was exhausted from dancing, she would do this—let her tears flow back into her heart.

She stood there alone, doing a handstand, her gaze fixed on the starry sky. The same night sky, viewed upside down, offered a different kind of beauty; the feeling of the world being turned upside down made her dizzy, but suddenly everything felt clearer.

Perhaps life is like this too; seeing things from a different perspective might not be so bad after all.

The steady sound of footsteps approached, and a handsome face appeared in her line of sight, upside down. Instinctively, she closed her eyes. She heard his somewhat mocking voice:

"Does this mean the tears won't flow?"

Albert Wilson stood there with his arms crossed, watching this stubborn little woman who was truly good at self-deception.

Under the pure white locust tree, a slender figure stood, seemingly at odds with the dark night sky yet bizarrely fitting. As he walked closer, this beautiful scene captured his attention.

When she heard him speak, she didn't react at all, continuing to keep her eyes closed in her handstand.

Today, she wore a white chiffon blouse tucked into her jeans, which accentuated her waist. However, the large range of motion left a significant patch of her fair skin exposed around her waist.

Adding to that were her long, straight, and proportionate legs. His eyes burned with desire; he could hardly resist the urge to stride over and pull her up. It was relatively secluded here; she must have made sure no one was around to act like this.

They remained silent for a long while. Finally, she moved, skillfully lowering her body and casually adjusting herself. Then, she quietly looked at him and said,

"Albert , shall we get married soon?"