Desperate Lovers

Chapter 1 It Paid to Do Wrong

"James...... I didn't mean it, James, you have to believe me."

Inside the villa, Angela was on her knees, her face a few shades whiter than the pure white porcelain

vase on the table.

Without the lights on, she couldn't see the man's face on the couch at the moment, only the faint glow

of the cigarette he held between his fingers, which eventually disappeared a little.

The feeling, like a death sentence waiting to be pronounced, made her even more uneasy.

She looked down at her fingers and froze.

It was still stained with Jessica's blood, which had dried up over time.

This was evidence of her crime.

Without knowing how long it took, he finally stood up, and his tall, slender figure moved closer to her.

"Angela, there's a price to pay for doing something wrong.

Jessica's leg was saved, but she can no longer dance, and why are you...... still alive and thriving?"

The tone was eerie and irritated her.

By the moonlight that spilled in, she could faintly see the man weighing a golf club with his hand.

"I told you I could marry you if you were good.

But why did you mess with Jessica?

Hmm?"

As the man's voice trailed off, the club fell in a smooth motion, hitting straight on her shin.

"Ah!"

He used 100% percent of his strength, and she suffered a hundred times as much pain.

"James...... I didn’t......"

Her left leg was throbbing with pain. She was so frightened that she could only move back a little.

Unfortunately, the injured leg only dangled stiffly, lifeless.

The man threw away the bent club and looked at her with cold eyes, "Angela, this leg is your

compensation to Jessica. I keep your alive.

But remember, this debt's not over."

She hugged herself tightly, shaking like a sieve.

Everything in front of her gradually overlapped into darkness, and before closing her eyes, she saw him

pick up the phone and dial out, "Tell the Chante family that Angela attempted to kill someone

intentionally.

Keep her or keep the Chante Group, let them decide for themselves."

Angela laughed softly, so tired; she wondered if everyone was satisfied if she died like this. NôvelDrama.Org owns all content.

Two years later.

In the cold winter, City B finally got its first snow.

The gate to the detention house on the East suburb was open early in the morning.

A thin woman came out of it, perhaps with some trouble with her legs, and she didn't walk very fast.

As the white snow fell, the woman looked up, ignoring the deep or shallow bruises on her face, she

was young and innocent.

In this weather, the frequency of buses passing through the stop was reduced: from every hour to every

three hour.

She was out of luck, as a bus had just left five minutes before she left the gate of the detention house.

So now she was going to be waiting on the side of the road for two or three hours.

Touching the chiffon shirt she was wearing, she frowned, and the crescent-shaped scar creased at the

corner of her brow.

It was spring when she went into the detention center, but it was winter when she came out.

She stood under the bus stop sign and looked blankly across the street at the detention house that had

held her captive for two years.

On the whitewashed wall were several large characters.

Rehabilitate properly and make a fresh new start in life.

Suddenly, she couldn't help but laugh.

Such words she had read countless times a day for the past two years.

But from this place, was there a chance for a new life?

In the cold, she rambled, until the bus drove through the blizzard and interrupted her thoughts.

She rubbed her aching leg and got into the car.

All she had was an old, outdated cell phone and a dozen dollars that the guard at the detention house

kindly gave her.

After inserting the coin, she took her regular seat in the back seat.

The bus was the only one going from the city center to the prison, so Angela was the only passenger

on the entire bus.

All the way home, she was clinging on the window, like she couldn't get enough view

It turns out that the city had changed so much in two years.