Chapter 90 On the Couch
The brilliant lights reflected on the car windows, embellishing the prosperity of the main road in a different way. But on their faces, there was only the desolate moonlight.
"Sit down." His voice remained low, yet intimidating and arrogantly lazy.
Brooklyn pulled the door handle forcefully. She didn't mind jumping out, even if it meant breaking bones.
"The always dominant Brooklyn, now learning to be suicidal? Let me remind you, your life belongs to me. Do you have the right to die?" Sebastian warned.
Brooklyn, with tears in her eyes, forcefully held back her tears. "Sebastian, is it fun? Playing so many games with me, is it really fun?"
He snorted, "Not fun. You should have known that three years ago when you climbed into my bed."
He brought up the old issue again, leaving her speechless.
After a moment of silence, he suddenly said, "Megan was mistaken about her health condition. It was a misunderstanding."
Changing the subject, she didn't come back to her senses. "Do you believe me?"
He didn't answer but instead turned the conflicting arrows toward her. "Even if she mistakenly misunderstood you, you shouldn't be publicly flirting with that man. It seems like you've forgotten your identity."
Each word of his condemnation was filled with arrogance.
Brooklyn cried in a tearful voice, "So what? Do you care? Mr. Kingsley, do you care about who your so-called wife is with? Just a nominal wife, or not even that in the eyes of others. When you and Megan are all over each other in public, have you ever cared about me? If not, why bother interfering with me?"
"Brooklyn, you're mistaken. Whether I care or not is one thing. Whether you should do it is another. And you've become bolder, trying to interfere with my life!"
She looked out the window in despair, the cold moonlight making her shiver. His message was clear. He could control her, and she had no right to interfere with him.
As the car arrived at the villa's gate, he operated the smart switch, driving the car in with the lights off. The silence was heavy, and the confined space made their breaths irregular. They had both been angry moments ago, their breaths heavy, creating an ambiguous atmosphere.
He lazily commanded, "Get out."
Brooklyn gritted her teeth and got out of the car.
As she stepped out, the night wind made her shiver. She couldn't help but hug herself, feeling cold. She thought he was going to leave, but he also got out of the car. He locked the car and strode past her, saying, "Come."
In the villa's hall, the lights were bright.
It was then that he noticed the bruises and injuries on her face and knees. They hadn't healed yet. And the slap marks on her face, how did they come about?
He cursed in his mind, 'Stupid woman, why couldn't she take care of herself?'
"Sit down!" He commanded.
Brooklyn sat down, and on the table was a bright red Hermes handbag, glaringly red.
After a while, Sebastian came out with a medical kit. He menacingly approached her, "You were not born with a beautiful face. What are you trying to turn yourself into?"
Brooklyn remained silent.
He took out a swelling and pain relief ointment, dipped a cotton ball in it, and knelt, reaching out with his long arm.
She was stunned. Sebastian was actually helping her treat an injury. It was so weird.
"Get rid of any silly fantasies in your mind. Until I'm tired of you, you are still my wife. I won't allow an ugly woman to be around me."
She clenched her fists. "In that case, let's just get a divorce. You'll be relieved."
Sebastian tapped her face repeatedly, and she endured the pain without a word.
"Give up!"
His movements suddenly intensified, causing her to gasp in pain.
With the pain, she closed her eyes, tilting her face slightly to allow him to apply the ointment. Her long and thick eyelashes cast a shadow on her fair and flawless face.
Sebastian suddenly cupped Brooklyn's face and kissed her deeply, and the two of them engaged in a sexual relationship on the couch.
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