Chapter 101 Chapter 101. Choosing to Leave
Zoria gave a faint smile. "I’m not eating. Lola, you don’t need to cook for me anymore after this."
The servant caught the implication in her words and could only let out a helpless sigh.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Zoria quickened her pace without turning back. She was afraid that if she saw Zephyr’s unpleasant face again, she would end up vomiting on the spot.
Lysander had parked by the side of the road. From a distance, Zoria saw a tall, lean male leaning against the car, a cigarette between his fingers as he exhaled smoke slowly.
Hearing the noise, Lysander turned around. When he saw Zoria standing beside Zephyr, his face broke into a brilliant smile. It spread from his lips to the depths of his eyes, so bright that it sent a chill down Zoria’s spine.
Lysander walked over, took Zoria’s suitcase with one hand, and stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette with the other.
Zephyr’s expression turned as ugly as Lysander had expected.
"So you’ve already touched her?" Zephyr asked.
Lysander smiled, as if amused by something else. The golden light in his eyes dimmed. "Didn’t you undress her yourself to take a look?"
Zephyr took two steps forward, grabbed Lysander by the collar, his voice icy. "I told you already. If you dare lay a hand on her, I’ll make sure you die ugly."
Faced with the killing intent radiating from Zephyr, Lysander showed no fear at all. "But don’t forget, you were the one who handed her over to Faye. Things turning out like this—wasn’t that part of your plan from the very beginning?"
Lysander’s gaze flicked lightly, his voice growing even more venomous. "Or is it that compared to me fucking her, you’d rather see Zoria with broken arms and legs? Just like Faye?"
Zephyr froze, his face gradually darkening.
"Bastard!" Zephyr clenched his fist and lunged at Lysander, swift as a hunting leopard.
Lysander hadn’t expected Zephyr to strike without warning. His cheek took a solid punch, burning with pain. Before he could recover, the next blow came whistling through the air. Lysander dodged coldly.
Lysander was never the type to swallow a loss. Ever since he was young, he had been stubborn to the point of cruelty—anyone who hurt him once, he would repay tenfold.
He spat a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva onto the ground, laughing mockingly in anger. "What? Did I hit a nerve?"
Zephyr ground his teeth, his knuckles cracking. He couldn’t deny it—Lysander had struck right where it hurt. Compared to Zoria being injured, what drove him truly insane was the fact that Lysander had touched her.
"You couldn’t even keep your own mate. Why blame me?" Lysander said casually, but to Zephyr it felt like a slap across the face.
After putting the suitcase into the trunk, Zoria walked over with Hamburger in her arms and saw that the two of them were still locked in confrontation.
If two males really fought it out, no one would come out ahead. She wouldn’t mind watching them both get hurt, as long as she wasn’t dragged into it.
"Can we go now?" Zoria asked Lysander.
But Zephyr stared at her. "You really want to go with him?"
"Yes."
"Do you even know what kind of person he is? How dare you go with him?"
Zoria tilted her head and looked at Zephyr. There were too many uncontrollable emotions in her eyes, so tangled that Zephyr couldn’t read them at all.
Zephyr reached out, trying to grab her. Zoria stepped back, smiling gently. "You know exactly what kind of person he is, and you still handed me over to him."
It felt as if Zephyr’s heart had been crushed in a tight grip, the pain making him stagger. That’s right—had he forgotten? It was his own hands that had pushed Zoria away, trading her for Faye, along with a contract to sever their bond.
Zephyr lowered his head. The light that had once burned so brightly in his eyes slowly faded. His lips trembled. "I’m sorry, Zoria. I know I was wrong..."
"There are things that can’t be fixed just by saying ‘I’m sorry.’ If you say ‘I was wrong,’ can that bring my father back to life? If you say ‘I was wrong,’ can that make up for the years of humiliation I endured? And what about my dignity?"
Zephyr’s body shook uncontrollably, his head pounding as if it were about to split open. His vision blurred. Zoria was clearly standing right in front of him, yet she felt so far away, as though he could never reach her again.
He stood there, frozen, finally realizing his mistake—and having no idea what he could do to keep Zoria from leaving.
“Zoria, don’t you love me anymore? Do you really not love me at all now?” Zephyr demanded, word by word, his voice breaking at the end with a rare, trembling choke.
“I stopped loving you a long time ago. The Zoria who waited up every night for you, who humbled herself just because she wanted to have your child—that Zoria is dead. You’re the only one still fooling yourself into thinking she ever loved you,” Zoria said, then let out a laugh.
Her voice was thin and cold. “Zephyr, you never loved me either, did you? So why should I love you? Is it because you think I’m cheap? Or because you think you’re so superior that without you, I wouldn’t be able to survive?”
After watching the “drama” play out, Lysander calmly straightened his wrinkled collar, then walked over to Zoria and took her hand.
“Zoria belongs to me now. Instead of worrying about me, shouldn’t you be more concerned about Faye—the one you traded Zoria for?”
He put heavy emphasis on the word “traded.”
While Zephyr’s mind was still in chaos, Lysander tightened his grip on Zoria’s hand, turned swiftly, shoved her into the back seat, and slammed the car door shut.
Zephyr carefully replayed everything that had happened over the past few years when he had been with Zoria. He had treated her terribly, done countless awful things to her. And now, he had even used her as a bargaining chip to get Faye back.
Zoria must have hated him to the core.
His heart felt as though it were being carved up by a blade. When he finally came back to himself, he saw that Lysander had already pulled Zoria into the car. Zephyr rushed forward, but Lysander stepped in front of him. Without giving Zephyr a chance to speak, Lysander drove a punch straight into his stomach.