The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 302

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Pure Madness

Zain’s POVO

I strode over and locked eyes with Blanche before settling down right beside her.

The raw fury coursing through me seemed to seep into her, making her shift uncomfortably for reasons. she couldn’t name.

I watched her study my face–my jaw locked tight with rage–while she stayed completely silent.

The silence stretched between us until I finally broke it, my voice coming out low and gravelly. “Planning to just sit there gawking at me? Nothing to say?”

Blanche straightened up, fingers raking through her hair. “I don’t see the point in talking?”

My mouth curved into a bitter smile. “Not even curious about why I’m furious?”

She didn’t take the bait. Her voice turned ice–cold.

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“Nothing I want to know.”

Her complete indifference hit a nerve. I leaned in suddenly, closing the distance until my face filled her vision. She startled, clearly caught off guard by how close I’d gotten.

Before she could react, I grabbed her delicate

shoulders, my anger radiating off me in waves that felt suffocating. My voice turned arctic–each word sharp as broken glass. “Vincent just destroyed Jacob Group’s international expansion.”

The words came out like a snarl.

Blanche went rigid for a heartbeat. Then she said, “Proves there’s always someone bigger and badder out there.”

I narrowed my eyes, that cold smile turning razor–sharp. “Sounds like you’re impressed with him.”

Blanche shot back, “Hardly. You two are cut from the same cloth.”

To her, Vincent and I were identical–spoiled rich boys who got off on playing games with people’s emotions.

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I released her shoulders, my stare boring into her. “Same cloth, huh?”

“Exactly,” Blanche said, her tone crisp. “Two peas in a pod.”

Her certainty genuinely threw me off, frustration bleeding into my voice. “Come on, spell it out for me- how exactly are we alike?”

Blanche’s lip curled with pure disdain. “Not worth wasting my breath.”

She started to rise, clearly planning to walk away, when I suddenly grabbed her arm.

Blanche got yanked back down before she could process what was happening–then I crushed my mouth against hers.

Nothing gentle about it–rough, almost brutal in its intensity.

Blanche fought like hell, but she might as well have been trying to move a mountain.

Compared to me, her strength felt pitiful, completely insignificant.

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I nipped at her lips, trying to coax them apart with my

tongue.

Blanche kept her mouth sealed shut, giving me no opening.

That’s when I got bolder–one hand clamped around her waist while the other went straight for her pants

button.

Blanche’s panic spiked, about to let out a scream.

But I silenced her, covering her mouth with mine and swallowing every sound before she could make it.

I took advantage of her shock, forcing my tongue past her lips, kissing her with bruising intensity as I pulled her against my chest.

Her resistance, her struggles, her trembling–none of it mattered. I wasn’t backing down, wasn’t letting go.

In all our years married, I’d never been this reckless- never this consumed by pure madness.

The need to claim Blanche was clawing at my chest, getting stronger every second.

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But when my hand slipped under her sweater, I caught

the shimmer of tears on her cheeks.

She was crying, tears streaming down as her whole body shook.

That split second, something sharp twisted in my

chest.

The haze in my mind cleared instantly, and I snapped back to reality.

The moment Blanche saw me hesitate, she shoved me away and cracked her palm across my cheek.

The slap rang out, sharp and unmistakable.

I pressed my hand to my face, turning away, eyes downcast and churning with emotions I couldn’t untangle.

Blanche jumped to her feet, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Zain, you lunatic!”

I worked my jaw, tongue probing my numb cheek, then turned back with steel in my eyes.

A mocking, cold laugh escaped me. “Don’t forget what

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you are to me.”

With my intimidation hanging in the air, Blanche choked out, “You-”

She looked utterly helpless, trapped with no escape

route.

With only days left in our divorce cooling–off period, she clearly didn’t want to escalate things or create more complications.

Blanche went quiet, just staring at me with eyes full of unspoken hurt.

Just thinking about what had just happened left her looking so defeated and fragile, and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

Watching her cry, I suddenly felt completely lost.

No matter how enraged I’d been, seeing her tears scattered all my anger–left my chest a tangled wreck.

Agitated and unsettled, I shot to my feet, refusing to look at Blanche as I muttered, “Just read your damn book. I’m out of here.”

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With that, I stormed out of the lounge without a

backward glance.

Blanche’s POV

I stayed by the sofa, every muscle in my body coiled tight with tension.

Only after Zain actually left did I finally allow myself to relax, my body sagging with relief.

I didn’t bother returning to the couch–I headed straight for the bathroom.

Standing before the mirror, I cranked on the faucet and began scrubbing my lips viciously, as if I could erase every trace of him.

All I wanted was to cleanse myself, to scrub away every lingering trace of Zain–his taste, his touch- from my mouth.

But no matter how hard I scrubbed, it never felt like enough; I could never get him completely off.

I only stopped when my lips went numb, raw from the

relentless assault.

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With water still rushing from the tap, I stared at my reflection–swollen lips, red and inflamed, eyes dull and lifeless, looking completely lost.

I was disgusted with myself for ending up in this state.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d hidden in the bathroom. When I finally emerged, I collapsed onto the couch, moving like a zombie.

Curled up on my side, I let tears slip down and stain the sofa cushions.

Before I knew it, an entire hour had passed like that.

Zain’s POV

Outside, I was too wound up to even pretend to focus on work–my mind was chaos, and Blanche’s face kept invading my thoughts no matter what I tried.

That image of her, tear–stained and heartbreakingly vulnerable, was burned into my brain–I couldn’t shake it no matter what.

‘Pull yourself together,‘ I told myself, forcing my nerves

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to settle before I could even attempt to concentrate

on work.

I barely managed to stumble through until noon; only when Desmond appeared with lunch did I finally head toward the lounge.

I hesitated at the door, second–guessing myself, then quietly eased it open and slipped inside.

When I entered, Blanche was curled up on the couch, asleep again.

Seeing her looking so peaceful and sweet, I didn’t want to wake her.

I moved closer, standing beside the couch and leaning down slightly to get a better view.

Blanche’s features were delicate and stunning, and with just light makeup today, she looked so gorgeous it was impossible to look away–absolutely mesmerizing.

I found myself captivated all over again, amazed by just how breathtaking she was. ‘I never noticed she could be this stunning, I thought.

Just then, Blanche’s phone on the coffee table lit up,

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the screen flashing.

I glanced over and saw it was Vincent: “Sweetheart, what are you up to? Eaten yet? Want to grab dinner together?”

The admiration that had flashed across my face from seeing Blanche so beautiful vanished instantly, replaced by an icy, unreadable mask.

I reached for the phone, but the moment I touched it, Blanche–barely awake from the sound–snatched it right out of my grasp.

Blanche glared at me suspiciously. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Seeing how panicked Blanche looked, I scoffed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why so jumpy? Hiding something?”

Blanche buried her phone deep in her bag, shooting me a withering look. “It’s not hiding. It’s called privacy.”

My smirk turned even sharper. “That what you’re calling it?”

Blanche fired back, “What about you? Don’t tell me

10/12

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you don’t have your own secrets.”

“Sure I do,” I said without hesitation.

Blanche stood up from the couch, not bothering to respond or even glance my way.

But right then, I fixed my gaze on her and said, “Delete Vincent’s number.”

Blanche froze momentarily, then turned to face me, her voice sharp. “Why would I?”

I kept my expression cold, my tone casual, almost bored. “Take a wild guess.”

Those four words, delivered so carelessly, were clearly

a threat–I was applying serious pressure.

Blanche shot me a look of pure scorn, her voice dripping with contempt. “Zain, seriously? You need psychiatric help.”