From His Invisible Wife to the World's Icon novel Chapter 147

Just then, a force suddenly pulled at the car door.

The glass window was knocked on immediately after.

She froze for a moment, then pushed hard, struggling. "Let me go... let go of me..."

She had already let him go.

But whenever he appeared, he always found a way to push her into an even colder abyss.

She wanted to leave. She didn't want to go home with him, didn't want to be near him.

She didn't want to see him ever again.

Her body suddenly lost its balance and tumbled into the man's embrace. She was held tightly.

She looked up in surprise, meeting the man's focused, deep eyes.

His eyes seemed slightly different from Frederick's.

She frowned, feeling his warm, large hand brush past her cheek and rest on the back of her head.

His gaze was so sorrowful, as if he had lost something incredibly important.

Guided by the pressure on the back of her head, she was unknowingly pulled closer to him.

"Rest for a bit."

Her body went limp. Under that gaze, she somehow lost all will to struggle and collapsed into his arms.

Her small face rested against his warm neck, and she heard a powerful heartbeat.

Thump, thump, like a lullaby.

Her lips felt as if they were gently rubbed by something soft.

She fell into darkness.

Frederick couldn't wait any longer; he even felt the urge to smash the door. The heavily tinted windows revealed nothing; he couldn't see or hear a thing.

Just the thought of her being inside...

The window suddenly rolled down, revealing a man's sharp jawline.

And in his arms was indeed a woman, entirely bundled from head to toe in a black trench coat.

"Mr. Foster?"

Frederick looked up, meeting Xavier's displeased expression. "Mr. Ford?"

Despite his polite tone, he reached straight in, grabbed the collar of the trench coat, and forcefully pulled it back.

In that instant, his wrist was clamped down on.

A sharp pain shot through his arm, making him frown.

He hadn't expected the man, who looked so refined, to have such strength.

Frederick's hand was forcibly grabbed and shoved out of the window.

"Mr. Foster, what is the meaning of this?"

"Who is she?"

Frederick was usually polite to people he had no conflicts of interest with, but the man's actions right now made him deeply uncomfortable.

An unknown amount of time passed before Lydia's consciousness slowly returned. Feeling the soft surface beneath her, she nuzzled against it. Her stomach was churning uncomfortably, and catching the familiar scent of hangover soup, she couldn't help but frown. "Gable, I don't want to drink it..."

"Miss, just drink a little. You'll feel better once you have some," Gable coaxed.

"No."

A force suddenly grabbed her arm, and her dizzy body was hauled up.

The light was blinding, and with her eyelids feeling so heavy, she simply couldn't open her eyes.

When a cold spoon pressed against her lips.

"Be good, open your mouth."

The extremely patient, coaxing voice of a man fell by her ear.

She had never heard him speak like that, not even when things were at their best between them.

"Leave me alone..."

Furious, she tried to break free from Frederick's grip.

In her hazy memories, had he kissed her?

A wave of agony washed over her heart.

She raised her hand and swiped toward the source of the voice.

A loud, shattering crash rang out.

Her eyes snapped open.