Trading My Ex for His Uncle

Nyla indifferently looked away from the anger practically pouring from Clark's eyes. "No one. I tripped and fell."

"You fell and managed to slap yourself on the face?"

Nyla lowered her gaze and spoke softly. "This is my business. Can you just leave it alone?"

Clark grabbed her hand firmly, his voice serious. "You are my wife. Someone hit my wife, and you think I can just ignore that?"

"I told you it's my business, and I've already handled it. Just give me the clothes."

After a moment of tense silence, Clark relented, seeing Nyla wasn't going to say more.

"Let me drive you home."

"No need. The subway takes just ten minutes."

Clark frowned at the resistance and cold distance in Nyla's eyes.

"Nyla, I'm not asking you to forgive me right now. But I hope you won't reject my kindness. Otherwise, can't guarantee what I might do."

A flicker of sarcasm crossed Nyla's eyes as she caught the threat in his last words.

"Clark, is this what you mean by not forcing me anymore?"

"I just want to drive you home. How is that forcing you?"

Seeing his self-righteousness, Nyla pressed her lips together, too tired to argue. She knew he would only stick to his point.

She quickly thought it through. She might as well use a free driver and avoid the crowded subway, so she replied, "Fine, then. Thanks." Seeing her agree, Clark finally smiled.

Clark left after dropping her off at home and helping carry the clothes upstairs.

Back in his car, he didn't start the engine but called his secretary instead.

"I want to know who hit my wife today at Park Pharmaceuticals within half an hour."

After Clark left, Nyla dragged the suitcase to her bedroom and started unpacking. It was mostly long sleeves and autumn coats and pants-clothes she often wore.

The way they were folded suggested Clark had packed them himself. For a moment, she felt a twinge of softness, but remembering his betrayal quickly erased it.

Once she was done organizing her clothes, she headed to the kitchen to make dinner.

Her current life, though much busier than being a housewife, felt fulfilling. She had no desire to return to waiting at home for Clark every day. Besides, they could never go back.

At 10:00 p.m. in a VIP room of a bar in Saintornia.

Clark sat on the sofa, his expression icy as he looked at the woman kneeling on the floor in disarray. His gaze was cold and unforgiving.

Feeling Clark's oppressive aura, Lucia couldn't stop trembling, her heart full of fear.

"Ms. Pollard..."

At the sound of Clark's voice, Lucia shuddered violently.

Tonight, she had come to the bar with Mabel to celebrate not being fired. However, after a few drinks and some dancing, several men in black had suddenly dragged her out and brought her there. The moment she saw Clark, she immediately knew he was there about her hitting Nyla earlier that day.

"Mr. Sumner, I was wrong... Please, let me go..."© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

Her terror and desperation satisfied Clark. He raised an eyebrow. "How did you slap my wife today? Slap yourself the same way now. When I'm satisfied, I'll let you go. How about that?" Lucia bit her lip, trying to suppress her fear.

Just as she was about to speak, Clark seemed to read her mind and added, "Ms. Pollard, if you're reluctant to, that's fine. Just know that the Pollards won't be able to survive in Saintornia anymore."