My Lord, My Billionaire Master novel Chapter 652

David squatted in front of the oil painting and said in a low voice, he placed one hand on the oil painting and stopped on a burning cloud, "Won't you answer? Yes, of course you don't want me to have a short life. Otherwise, why would I be engaged now?"

Everything was predestined.

He turned a blind eye to everything, but he still returned to his home to take on his so-called responsibilities.

He pressed the button on the oil painting. The oil painting was opened like a mechanism, and a picture fell from within.

On the back of the photo, there were some blurry words.

[York, brother likes you. I'll marry you when you grow up, okay?]

David laid on the bed with the photo. His body was buried in the blanket as he looked at the lamp hanging above his head.

His phone suddenly vibrated.

David picked up his phone. It was a servant who sent him photos of clothes he had not tried on.

Every picture reminded him that he was getting married.

He chose the path that he didn't like the most.

"Bam!"

David threw his phone out.

As if all the air in the room had been sucked out, David's breathing became ragged. Holding the photo with one hand, he curled up in pain as he rolled around the bed in pain like a sick person.

After a while, his face was covered in sweat, and his gray eyes were filled with despair.

After a long while, he could no longer stand this suffocating feeling. He sat up on the bed, took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

There were wounds on his sturdy arms. Some were new, some were old. It was extremely terrifying.

David sat there, he extended his hand and opened a drawer next to the bed, from there, he took out a black knife, immediately popping out the blade, and fiercely slashed at his own arm.

The blade slashed down.

Blood oozed out.

With the pain from his wounds, David felt more comfortable. He leaned back and looked at his arm, sweating profusely.

Seeing his own wounds, David felt extremely satisfied.

After more than ten years, William still understood him quite well. He was a weak man.

But this time, he could not choose to hide or to die.

David sat there with one leg up, his hand rested on his knee. He looked down to see the blood dripping from the wound, dripping onto his body and onto the bed.

Comfortable.

David leaned back, raised his head and slowly closed his eyes, enjoying this rare moment of pleasure.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

David suddenly opened his eyes and a voice came out, "Eldest Young Master, is your phone turned off? Miss Joanna is calling to invite you out for a walk."

A walk.

David turned to look at the photo that he placed at the side, smiling, "I knew you wouldn't let me feel comfortable for long."

He blamed him.

Thus, he could only endlessly immerse himself in pain.

David got off the bed and without bothering about the wounds, he immediately rolled down his sleeves, placed the photo back into that oil painting, picked up his jacket and put it on, then stood in the mirror and tidied up his clothes.

The servants came in. "Eldest Young Master, do you agree?"

"Yes." David said.

"Eldest Young Master and Miss Joanna are getting along really well recently. Madam is especially happy that the engagement is approaching, and she is going to attend a banquet today." The servant said.

As far as he could remember, it had been a long time since Madam went to a banquet. It was rare.

"Then tell Madam that I'm on a date today."

Let Mother be happy again.

"Yes, Eldest Young Master." The servant smiled and spoke as glimpsed at David's clothes, which were stained with blood. He asked in shock, "Eldest Young Master, your clothes..."

David looked at his clothes, and only then did he realize that there was a pool of blood on his shirt, "I accidentally cut myself, go and get another set of clothes."

He was calm.

"Yes." The servant turned and walked towards the locker room. He stumbled and almost touched the oil painting. David changed his expression and roared:" Don't touch my painting!"

The servant was startled by the sudden outburst of the usually gentle Eldest Young Master. He immediately stood up and ran towards the locker room.

God, the Eldest Young Master was no better than the Second Young Master.