Chapter 403 Oliver, kill me! 2
The sharp tip of the knife barely pierced Sarah's tender skin.
A bead of crimson blood oozed out.
But Sarah was fearless.
Once, her eyes were full of him. Now, when she looked at him, all that remained was resentment and endless hatred.
"Why?" Oliver's eyes were bloodshot as he stared at her, not missing a single change in her expression.
He desperately wanted to believe that all of this was just an illusion, that it hadn't really happened.
Sarah loved him.
How could she accept another man?
Absolutely impossible!
Sarah looked at his incredulous eyes and smiled softly. "Because I hate you. I want to leave you. Is that answer satisfactory? Oliver, we've been on a dead-end road for a long time. But you won't let me go."
"I think it's because when I was with you, I was clean. My only advantage over Ellie and all your countless women was this! Now that I've slept with someone else, this only advantage, the thing you cared about the most, is gone... So, Oliver, either kill me or let me go." She gripped his hand and pushed the fruit knife forward.
"Sarah!" The veins on Oliver's forehead bulged.
The violence in his blood roared—why not just kill her? No more pain. No more crawling on his knees to please her. No more nights wasted aching for a woman who didn't give a damn.
They faced off.
Beads of crimson blood dripped from the knife tip.
Suddenly, he threw the knife aside and grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the bathroom.
Sarah screamed, "Oliver, what are you doing?"
Oliver dragged her into the bathroom.
He held her with one hand and turned on the shower with the other. Ice-cold water hit her face and body like needles. Her long hair fell over her eyes, hiding her tears.
He tore her clothes open.
He pressed her roughly against the wall, demanding, "Where did he touch you? Here... or here?"
With each place he mentioned, he scrubbed her roughly.
Sarah was in pain, but seeing Oliver's pained expression brought her a twisted sense of satisfaction. Leaning against the cold bathroom wall, she looked down and spoke to him word by word. "Everywhere. All over, inside and out."
Her eyes held a mocking smile, driving Oliver to the brink of madness.
He pressed his tall body against her, his blue eyes filled with malice. "Sarah, you're asking for death!"
He scrubbed her harshly, wishing he could peel off her skin.
"It's useless." Sarah tilted her slender neck, her thin skin exposing her carotid artery to his view. She smiled faintly, "Why don't you wash yourself?"
"Even if you wash a hundred times, it won't help." she sneered. "Those unbearable images, those crazy thoughts, will seep into your bones, into your blood... You'll never forget them. Oliver, you're filthy inside and out. What makes you think I would accept a man as dirty as you and love you to death?"
"I'm different from you. I still have the capacity to love. After leaving you, I'll do what I like. Maybe I'll meet a new lover..." As Sarah spoke, her eyes sparkled.
There was hope!
This directly provoked Oliver!
He pressed her against the wall, glaring at her, "You dare say that!"
He bit down on her carotid artery.
A little more force, and she would be dead.
But he couldn't bear to.
Love and hate were just a thought apart.
Even in his rage, he couldn't bear to really hurt her. His wet face buried in her neck, his hot breath on her cold skin, causing her to shiver.
His voice was hoarse, filled with helplessness.
He pleaded with her in a pained tone, "Sarah, tell me this isn't real! You didn't betray me, that video was faked! Sarah, please..."
Sarah leaned against the cold tiles.
She found it ridiculous.
'Oliver, are you in pain?'
'Do you know that I've experienced this pain a thousand times over? When I was still a naive girl, the first time I smelled perfume on you, the first time I saw hickeys on your neck, I was in a thousand times more pain. That was the collapse of faith.'
'What is this compared to that?'
She let him hold her, and after a long time, he seemed to accept the truth.
He whispered in her ear, "Tell me, who is he?"
"A male model!" she snorted. "You won't find him! I gave him five million dollars, he's gone back home."
Oliver gripped her neck, his voice dangerously gentle, "It doesn't matter if you don't say. I'll find out. Sarah, when I do, I'll make him pay! Wherever he touched you, I'll cut it off."
Late at night, he took Sarah away, both of them soaked. Zoey brought them clothes.
When the door opened, Oliver's face was dark.
Zoey didn't dare say a word.
She sensed something serious had happened and didn't dare ask.
Zoey waited outside for about half an hour. When the suite door opened again, Oliver came out carrying Sarah. Her slender body hung limply in his arms, her long hair covering most of her small face.
She looked lifeless.
Under the oversized black suit, her delicate arms were covered in bruises, and her lips were bitten.
Zoey glanced at Oliver. Her heart trembled.
In the black SUV, the atmosphere was heavy. Normally, Zoey and Sarah were quite close, but now she didn't dare ask. Oliver was in a foul mood, and who knew when he might explode.
Sarah's frail body leaned against the leather seat.
She turned her face away, looking out the window.
She didn't want to see Oliver.
Oliver kept her confined in the villa. There were eight bodyguards watching her, and the servants were spies. They didn't dare let Sarah leave, knowing Oliver wouldn't spare them.
During that time, Oliver was like a madman.
He no longer had sex with her. He drank constantly, sitting in the darkest corner of the bedroom, silently watching her.
Sarah always curled up at the head of the bed.
She could see it—Oliver was a live wire, one frayed nerve from snapping. And when he did, he'd take it out on her. Again.
Life was hard, without freedom.
But if you asked her if she regretted it, she didn't!
Oliver often went to upscale bars to drown his sorrows. Only in the heavy metal music, only in the numbness of alcohol, could he temporarily forget the pain of Sarah's betrayal.
Sometimes, he got so drunk.
He would sleep in the club's private room, waking up as if from a dream.
This night was no different.
He didn't want to go back, didn't want to see Sarah's cold face, didn't want to face her indifference. He didn't want to make love to her either. That day, making love to her, he felt something was off.
Oliver looked at the whiskey in his glass.
He laughed coldly.
She really knew how to disgust him!
He got drunk, slumped over the gilded black bar, murmuring Sarah's name.
A pair of hands gently comforted him.
"Sarah." Oliver, half-awake, felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He called Sarah's name, and through his blurry vision, he saw the face of the person in front of him.
It was Ellie.
He instantly lost interest. He poured himself another glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp.
The sharp pain of the liquor sliding down his throat was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.
He looked at Ellie, speaking with self-mockery, "Are you here to laugh at me? Laugh at how pathetic Oliver has become, drowning his sorrows over a woman?"
"You're wrong!" he shouted. "I'm fine! Why should I care about a woman who doesn't love me? There are so many beautiful women out there, does she think I can't live without her? She took advantage of my love to trample on my heart. I really want to kill her!"
"But I can't bear to!" He reached for another drink.
Ellie stopped him, gently comforting, "Don't drink anymore, Oliver! She's not worth it! Come to my place, I'll make you lemon honey water... and your favorite cream of mushroom soup."
A man was most vulnerable when he was down.
She was sure Oliver couldn't resist the temptation and would go back to her apartment. She believed that between her and Sarah, he would realize who was truly good for him.
But Oliver pushed her away. "Get lost!"
He downed another half bottle of whiskey. The alcohol burned his insides, but his heart felt even more clogged. In the early hours, he grabbed his suit jacket and stumbled outside. Ellie, worried, followed him.
Oliver didn't want her to follow.
When she tried to help, he shoved her away.
He slurred drunkenly, "Get lost! Sarah will be upset if she sees you! When she's upset, she would mess up with other men to spite me! Go away..."
The night was thick, and he spoke nonsense.
A glimmer of light shone in his eyes, tears he didn't even know he was shedding.
In the long, luxurious hallway, he stumbled with each step, becoming more sober with each one. Each step made him feel the distance growing between him and Sarah. He leaned against the dark walls, heading for the exit.
Outside, the light was blinding.
Young couples embraced and kissed passionately in the corners.
The girl had long hair, wore a white dress, and had a small, upturned nose... She looked just like Sarah!
No, she was Sarah!
Oliver forcefully pulled them apart, yanking the girl behind him and punching the young man. His violent action caused the young man's nose to bleed profusely.
The man exploded, "Are you crazy?"
They were a cheating couple.
The girl had a husband, so as the man wiped his nose, he cursed, "She's not your wife! Why do you care who she sleeps with?"
Oliver was deeply provoked!
His eyes turned red, and he pressed the man down, beating him. "Say again whose wife you want to sleep with?"
The man, furious, called the police. "You're insane!"
At 2 AM, Zoey crawled out of bed to bail Oliver out. When she arrived at the police station, she found out the troublemaker was Oliver. The beaten man wanted to extort money.
Zoey paid up to settle the matter.
As they left, the beaten man sneered, "You think having money and being handsome makes you special? Your wife still doesn't love you! Serves you right!"
Oliver wanted to argue again.
Zoey couldn't hold him back.
In the end, the officer in charge hugged him from behind, softly persuading, "Mr. Windsor, calm down! You're a public figure. If news of you fighting gets out, it'll be a huge joke! Calm down!"
He persuaded for a long time before Oliver finally calmed down.
After Oliver left, the officer stood at the door, lighting a cigarette. Soon, two others came over to borrow a light, and they chatted about the recent gossip.
The officer scoffed, "He got hit where it hurts! His wife doesn't care about him!"
The other two chuckled.
In the car, Zoey looked at Ellie outside.
She told Oliver, "Meeting with Ms. Johnson is something Mrs. Windsor shouldn't know about, or she'll be upset again."
Oliver sobered up.
He turned his face to the other side, silently watching the night.
After a while, he spoke bitterly, "She slept with another man herself! Why would she care about me?"
Oh my!
Zoey felt like she was struck by lightning.
It took her a long time to process the news. She didn't dare say a word! She was deeply impressed by Sarah. The fact that Sarah was still alive was a miracle.
At around 4 or 5 AM, the shiny luxury car drove smoothly down the street. There were hardly any pedestrians or vehicles, only a few sanitation workers cleaning the streets. Their orange vests stood out in the dark, maintaining the city's brightness.
Oliver hadn't closed his eyes.
He quietly watched outside, then suddenly said, "I want to see Jacob."
Zoey turned and gave the driver the address. The driver turned the wheel and headed towards the apartment.
As dawn approached, the car stopped.
Oliver went upstairs alone. When he knocked, Claire hadn't woken up yet. She was shocked to see Oliver through the peephole.
Claire quickly opened the door. "Mr. Windsor, why are you here at this hour?"
She added, "Mrs. Windsor isn't home! She's on a business trip, gone for half a month... not sure when she'll be back."
Claire made him some tea.
Oliver didn't drink it. He leaned on the couch, quietly listening to Claire's chatter. She mentioned Sarah, and though everyone around him feared him, even Zoey rarely dared to bring up Sarah.
Even though Sarah was with him. But he couldn't touch her.
Claire talked a lot.
Oliver softly replied, "I want to see Jacob and Nicole."
Claire was stunned.
She was soft-hearted. She turned away to wipe her tears, choking up, "Mr. Windsor, if you change your ways and treat Mrs. Windsor well, she'll come around! There's still love between you two, and you have Jacob. He is so adorable!"
Oliver smiled bitterly.
While Claire made breakfast, he went into the bedroom to see the kids.
Morning light filled the room.
The kids slept soundly.
Nicole liked to sleep on her back, while Jacob liked to hug something. He used to hug a small pillow, but now he hugged Nicole's soft body.
Oliver sat by the bed.
He touched the children's faces, warm and pure, innocent.
Jacob hugged Nicole tighter.
Nicole's mouth moved, as if wanting milk, but with Jacob holding her, she felt secure and quickly fell back into a sweet sleep again.
Oliver was almost in tears.
He walked out, pulling out a cigarette to play with, but didn't light it.
Claire made him a sandwich.
She urged him to eat, saying if Mrs. Windsor were home, she wouldn't dare give him such good food.
Oliver had no appetite.
He said, "Next time, I'll come over to eat."
As he left, Claire saw him out. She asked, "I don't understand the business world, Mr. Windsor. Is Mrs. Windsor having trouble? Why else would she be gone for half a month?"
Oliver was stunned.
After a while, he forced a smile. "She will be back soon."
Claire's questioning left him exhausted.
He quickly went downstairs and got into the car. When he returned to the villa, a ray of sunlight hit him, making him look particularly pale and haggard.
As he walked upstairs,
He wondered if he should forget this incident, if he should give Sarah another chance to start over. After all, he loved her, and they had children.
But in the dead of night, the image of Sarah kissing that young man clung to him like a sickness. He couldn't shake it—couldn't stand the thought of her giving herself to someone else, wild and willing.
Oliver was somewhat lenient with Sarah. But he wanted to tear that man apart!
On the second floor, he pushed open the bedroom door. The room was bathed in sunshine.
Sarah, as before, curled up defensively at the head of the bed. He knew she feared he would force himself on her, but for the past week, he had no interest.
He stared at her.
She looked back, her voice calm and emotionless, "Can you let me go? Is there any point in this marriage? You hurt me, I betrayed you... we're even!"
"Even,?" Oliver sat on the couch, smoking. He stared at her, sneering, "At least, I need to find that man and decide what to do with you."
"You won't find him!" Sarah said calmly, "He's already left the country! I gave him five million dollars."
Oliver roared, "Sarah!"
As they faced off, there was a knock on the door. A bodyguard stood at the door. "Mr. Windsor, we found the man. He's still in the country."
Oliver immediately stood up.
He sneered at Sarah, "I'll bring that male model here and skin him alive."
The bodyguard looked troubled.
He forced a smile, "Mr. Windsor, the man isn't a male model! He's Mr. Moore's eldest grandson... we can't just kill him."
Oliver was stunned.
What, it was Matthew Moore's grandson?
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