The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

Asher felt the agonizing words pierce straight through his heart, each syllable cutting deeper than the last.

Pain twisted inside him as a relentless force threatened to tear him apart.

Through the haze, Arnold vaguely noticed a crimson tear welling in the corner of Asher's eye. But before it could fall, he clenched his eyes shut, forcing it back.

His striking features were empty, devoid of any trace of emotion-a mask of quiet devastation.

Yet, an unbearable anguish crashed over him like a tidal wave, dragging him under. He had no time to school his expression. His soul lay in ruins beneath the rigid shell of his body. Yuri slid into the driver's seat and shut the door. Just then, Arnold lurched forward, retching again. The sound was gut-wrenching, as if he were vomiting up his very soul.

"Matrix, Mr. Larson looks like he has alcohol poisoning. We should take him to the hospital." Yuri's brows knitted together in worry as he noted Arnold's pallid face.

Asher shrugged off his suit jacket, using it to wipe away the mess in the car. But when he saw Arnold groaning in pain, his chest tightened. His heart twisted as though it were being ripped apart.

Without warning, he pulled the man into a firm embrace.

He knew Arnold's drinking tolerance well. He was not one to get drunk easily, let alone to this extent.

How much pain must he have been in to drown himself like this to destroy himself like this? "Thirsty... So thirsty... So hot..."

Arnold's pale face gradually flushed with color. His eyes glistened with moisture, and his slightly parted lips were tinged with a delicate pink. His feverish and unsteady breath spilled against Asher's chin as his body sagged, melting into the man's embrace.

burning up!" Asher pressed his palm against Arnold's skin through the thin silk of his shirt. The heat

is very

years. He had seen enough in the underworld to recognize

Someone must

and

no need to describe what

to take him

need. I

his neck marred with deep, angry scratch marks. Yet none of it mattered. He only looked down at the man in his a arms, his eyes filled with unwavering

us to KS World

night, the cold moon hung in the sky, casting its pale glow

was eerily silent,

as he walked alone down the grand corridor. The air felt heavy, the silence almost oppressive. Finally, he stopped in front

knocked. A low voice answered from

alone on the sofa, downing one glass of

You shouldn't

move the half-empty bottle of whiskey aside. His long lashes lowered slightly, masking his unreadable

He lifted his head, his