Chapter 20
Private island, early morning.
The helicopter landed on the helipad in the center of the island, and the roar of the propellers gradually subsided, leaving only the sound of waves crashing against the rocks.
Sylvie was carried off the plane by Alaric, and as soon as her feet touched the ground, she pushed him away forcefully.
“Illegal detention?” she sneered, the train of her wedding dress billowing in the sea breeze, “When did Mr. Savrelle stoop to such despicable acts?”
Alaric was not angry, instead he chuckled, “So what?”
He raised his hand and stroked her cheek, his fingertips cold but his eyes burning with intensity. “Syl, you are mine,” he said.
“Don’t ever think about marrying someone else in this lifetime.”
In the villa.
Alaric showed her around the entire island.
“Everything here is yours,” he said as he pushed open the French doors, letting the sea breeze carrying a salty, damp scent rush in. “The garden, the pool, the library… even that stretch of sea.
Sylvie was unmoved: “I want to go back.”
“Syl, forget about the unpleasantness before.” Alaric embraced her from behind, his chin resting on the top of her head, his voice low and husky. “We start over.”
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“Act as if nothing ever happened.”
Sylvie broke free from his embrace and turned around, sneering, “Alaric, when did you learn to deceive yourself?”
Alaric’s body stiffened, and after a moment he spoke, “Syl, I will make sure you go back to the way things were before.”
In the following days, Alaric was almost crazy about being nice to her.
the n
She walked barefoot on the beach. The next day, the entire coastline was covered with fine white sand flown in from Northern Europe.
She woke up in the middle of the night and found a small night light on the bedside, casting a soft light like moonlight. Alaric was sitting by the bed, watching over her, with traces of blood in his eyes.
She casually mentioned that she wanted to eat mangoes, and the next day, the whole mango tree was air–freighted to the island and planted in the garden.
This kind of Alaric was unlike any Sylvie had ever seen.
Gentle, paranoid, and without any bottom line to indulge her.
She even had a moment of confusion.
If he had treated her like this in the past, how wonderful it would have
been.
The next second, she woke up again.
Can’t go back.
A week later, Sylvie began a hunger strike in protest.
“Not eating?” Alaric held the fruit plate, his eyes darkening. “Then I’ll
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feed you.”
He held a cherry in his mouth and kissed her on the chin.
Sylvie struggled as the juice slid down her lips, but he licked it away.
Kissing, the taste changed.
Alaric’s breathing grew heavier, his hand gripping the back of her neck, pulling her towards him.
“Don’t…” Sylvie turned her head to avoid it, “Don’t touch me.”
Alaric froze, pain churning in his eyes.
In the end, he just leaned against her forehead, his voice hoarse: “Syl, what do you want me to do?”
Sylvie looked at him and suddenly smiled, “Let me go.”
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