Bride of Retribution: Aloof Billionaire's Dominant Game

This was Atlas Hallow’s first time ever fleeing in panic.

He didn’t dare to admit to himself the turmoil in his heart, nor did he dare to admit he was afraid.

Three days, what if she remains the same after three days?

She said she tried hard to fall in love with him and spend her life with him, but she also said that she couldn’t be blamed for not loving him.

The words ”not loving” were like needles piercing his heart, impossible to extract.

He even left early morning just to avoid running into her.

He used to enjoy having breakfast with her, then driving to the office together. The commute wasn’t too long nor too short, just enough for some chitchat. Everything was perfect, but now it’s completely different. He always drives alone, the passenger seat beside him has been empty for over a month, and the air inside the car no longer carries her distinctive faint rose scent.

Time is the most special. It preserves the most beautiful moments, yet also makes one yearn for those beautiful things.

The air is lacking much of the aura she once filled it with, turning icy cold, freezing his breath into blocks of ice.

Driving the car, he stared blankly ahead. His handsome, resolute profile showed no change, only the sense of powerlessness flickering deep in his pupils...

Charlotte Miller was the woman he spent the most effort trying to please, yet she hurt him the deepest as well. This unnamed pain felt like an electric drill piercing his heart, pulsating with unbearable agony, yet he still didn’t want her to leave.

He was gentle and considerate towards her because she had just lost a child and couldn’t bear to push her. But the more he indulged, the more reckless she became in provoking him.

Looking out of the car window at the bustling metropolis of towering buildings, Atlas swiftly drove into the parking lot and directly went to the CEO’s office via the elevator.

Today, his boss came alone again, and Daniel Parker naturally didn’t dare to ask why.

He somewhat knew about Charlotte Miller’s miscarriage, but it seemed like she should have already rested enough by now.

Yet Atlas never mentioned Charlotte returning to work. The flowers in Charlotte’s office were still changed daily, and fresh fruits and exquisite snacks were prepared for her every day, but she never came to her office again.

Charlotte was wandering aimlessly, which is also a way of life.

She used to be a very diligent person, whether during her studies or at work, she never relaxed. This life of wandering under the sun was something she had never experienced. She roamed the streets and alleyways, bought a few sausages at a small shop to feed stray cats, then found a café to have coffee and a sandwich, sitting on the café’s outdoor terrace basking in the sun.

The spring sun is comfortable, neither as insufficiently warm as winter nor as scorching as summer that burns the skin painfully. Everything felt just right. When the wind brushed by, closing her eyes, she could sense the fresh scent of newly sprouted leaves, her eyes inexplicably souring. Indeed, how easy is it to pull out feelings once they’re invested?

If a woman truly invests her emotions, it’s equivalent to investing everything. At this moment, Charlotte was grateful she had the foresight to send her family away early, lest something fall into Atlas Hallow’s hands, and if he forced her to be a surrogate tool, even resisting would be incredibly difficult.

Because no one knew what Atlas Hallow might do.

Across from the café was a commercial building, prominently featuring Jack Smith’s poster. In her backpack was his scarf, and Charlotte picked up her phone to dial Jack Smith’s number.

At the moment, Jack Smith was recording an interview program.

The show was hosted by the very famous host Stella Moore: ”I’ll ask on behalf of all the fans, what’s your current relationship status, Jack, are you in love?”

”No, I’m not in love, but there’s a girl I like.” Jack Smith said frankly, making the manager break out in cold sweat. Such a direct admission was simply suicidal.