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Chapter 110: The Great Mr. Mark Smith Would Be Naive Enough To Buy Into The Fairytale Of True Love
Mark’s steely grip on her shoulder only fueled her fury. She struggled to contain her emotions as she spoke to him with forced calmness, attempting to mask the storm within her.
“Mark, I can handle this myself. Please put me down.”
Her words held a veneer of restraint, but Mark’s intent gaze and the underlying tension in his stance revealed his internal conflict. “How can you handle it?”
“Don’t forget that just half an hour ago, I was saving the child in Jennifer’s womb for you.”
–
Her implication was clear if she could handle such a delicate medical situation, a mere ankle sprain was hardly a challenge. It was a statement that carried the weight of their tangled history, underscoring the lengths she was willing to go for him.
Mark found himself momentarily silenced by her words. His mind raced, grappling with his feelings, and he found himself at a loss for a response. after hesitating for two seconds, he carried her to the bench in the hospital hall and sat down.
Sitting on the bench, she leaned down, her hand on the ankle stayed for a few seconds, only to hear a “crunch” sound, misplaced ankle was moved back to its original position by her.
Mark watched Mae throughout the process without even frowning, his heart is a little strange.
Over the years, what had she gone through to make her originally delicate, now she could endure any pain.
He wrinkled his eyebrows and looked at Mae as if he had many words he wanted to ask, but he didn’t know where to start.
Mae did not notice his expression, looking at the ankle that was still swollen high, the pain slowed down quite a bit at this moment.
Mae stood up, intent on leaving, but Mark’s grip on her returned, halting her steps. Frustration and impatience colored her voice as she turned her gaze back to him.
“What are you doing again?”
Mae’s frustration spilled over, her tone sharp as she locked eyes with Mark, a mixture of defiance and anger burning within her. Yet, beneath her outward demeanor, a sense of fatigue was evident. Her resilience was waning, her patience wearing thin.
Mark looked at Mae’s eyes which were crawling with disgust, the kind of disgust and impatience that would be hard to endure even if he stayed with him for just one more second.
Previously, he had never thought that this was the way Mae would look at him.
But during this period of time, he had gradually gotten used to this kind of look, but he could never accept that this woman had really gotten tired of him and wanted to get rid of him completely.
But then, he laughed to himself in his heart, isn’t it that she wants to get rid of him completely? Otherwise, why would she take the life of a fetus to force him to sign a divorce?
Mae saw Mark looking at herself with a complicated expression and not saying a word. All she wanted was to escape his gaze, to sever the last ties that bound them. She moved to leave once
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more, only to be stopped in her tracks by Mark’s unyielding grip.
A rush of fury surged through Mae. She met Mark’s gaze with defiance, her voice tinged with exasperation. “Mark, must you always oppose me? The marriage is over. Can’t you be more flexible?” She said.
Unfazed by her outburst, Mark’s response was calm and measured. “I’ll send you home.” He said.
Annoyed, Mae rejected his offer, her patience wearing thin. “No need. I’ve already called a car.” She said.
But Mark showed no intention of backing down. The intensity of their clash escalated, and Mae’s irritation mounted.
“Mark, for the last time, let me remind you that we are already divorced. I despise being around you so much that every second feels like torture to me. I’m not being blunt, because, despite everything, we were still husband and wife. I don’t need to make it harder than it already is.”
Mae’s voice held a mixture of frustration and weariness. She continued, her words a calculated attempt to cut the last ties that bound them:
“To tell you the truth, when I crawled into your bed that night, it was a mistake. I was drugged and vulnerable. If I had known how difficult you would be, I’d rather have endured the aftermath of that drug and spared myself that mistake.”
The words slipped out, unfiltered, leaving the atmosphere between them fraught with tension. Mae’s voice had a bitter edge, laced with the weight of their past regrets.
Mae didn’t know why her mood swings were so big, she just didn’t want to see Mark, she didn’t want to see that sympathetic caring look in his eyes when he looked at her.
Instead of making her feel touched, that would only make her remember those ironic unforgiving memories of the past more easily.
Now that the floodgates were open, Mae poured out her sentiments without restraint. “Do you get it now, Mark? I never loved you. I agreed to marry you because I saw your wealth, and at that time, I needed money. I would have done the same with any rich man I encountered. So, remember, it’s over between us. Focus on Jennifer and the child that she carries. As for the rest… I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can be friends. It’s best if we treat each other as strangers.”
She released a torrent of pent–up emotions, each word a release of the resentment that had festered over time. Mae felt that her heart was finally much more comfortable.
Mae was blissfully unaware of Mark’s gradually darkening expression. He looked as if he was a wild beast about to rage while he is staring at Mae.
Her voice carried the weight of her frustration as she spat out her final thoughts, her tone echoing in the air as she turned to leave. Yet, before she could take another step, Mark’s grip on her shoulders tightened, and with a forceful yank, he pressed her against the cold hospital wall.
Even though the hospital was heated, the wall’s chill seeped through her clothes, causing her to shiver involuntarily. Mae’s frustration was matched only by her confusion as Mark’s grip held her captive.
“What do you mean by all of this?” His voice was edged with a mix of intensity and turmoil.
Mark’s question cut through the air, laden with a simmering rage that his clenched teeth couldn’t
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Chapter 110 The Great Mi MB
contain. His usually smooth voice was now husky, reflecting his struggle to control the surging anger
within.
The pressure of his grip on her shoulders intensified unintentionally, the pain radiating through Mae’s slim frame. She winced as a dull ache began to throb beneath his fingers, her discomfort magnified by his mounting fury.
“Are you trying to tell me that for the sake of money, you could have slept with any man back then? That man could be me or someone else, right?”
Mae’s response was almost cavalier, tinged with biting sarcasm that danced on her lips. With a raised eyebrow and a wry smile, she confirmed his suspicions. “Yes, that’s right.” She said.
Mae’s tone held an unsettling mix of indifference and defiance, a reflection of her determination to push his buttons. But as her words hung in the air, the weight of the situation settled upon her. She couldn’t deny the cruel satisfaction she derived from challenging him, from witnessing the cracks in
his stoic facade.
With the pain in her shoulder mounting, she dared to provoke him further. “I mean, let’s be realistic, Mr. Smith. I’m just a playwright. Ancient texts suggest that playwrights are heartless, and those who resort to manipulation are unscrupulous. How virtuous could I really be? I never imagined you, the great Mr. Mark Smith, would be naive enough to buy into the fairytale of true love.”
Her words were laced with a mix of bitterness and detachment, delivered in a tone that further stoked the flames of Mark’s anger. He tightened his grip, the pain on her shoulder becoming increasingly unbearable. Mae winced and tried to pull away.
“I have said what I wanted to say, Mr. Smith. Let… me… go…” She said, her words trailing off as she sought relief from the pressure.
But Mark wasn’t finished, his frustration fueling his actions. Her jaw became the target of his grip, his fingers wrapping around it with an intensity that took her by surprise. Mae’s cloudy smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. His words cut through the tension like a knife.
“Mae, we’re done.”
His voice was a guttural growl, a stark reminder of the raw emotion roiling beneath his composed exterior. Mae met his searing gaze, the intensity of his anger like an inferno that threatened to
consume her.
Yet, even as his fingers bit into her jaw, Mae managed to maintain her defiant facade. A touch of amusement colored her tone as she retorted:
“Of course, we were done a long time ago.”
We were already done when you forced me to choose between aborting my child or a divorce, and when you left me begging on my knees for Jennifer Bleak.
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