Chapter 120 What To Feel?

Chapter 120 What To Feel?
I no longer knew what to trust anymore.

After my faith was broken constantly, I didn’t know who to believe, or what to feel anymore.

I followed my heart—Ken cheated and lied.

I let Vince lead my heart—He became my very destruction.

Now, what should I do?

“Mrs. Lysander...” Someone called but I didn’t reply and continued staring at the table.

“Mrs. Lysander.” 

Again, not reply. 

My thoughts had gobbled me enough to the point I could no longer think straight. I was not myself, or anything anymore.

Suddenly, life had stopped.

I was at the same point.

“Alyssa!” Flinching, I realized I had zoned out and looked up, only to find Uncle Andrew looking worriedly at me.

“Huh? What?”

“Child? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyeing me up and down.

“Ye–yeah, Uncle. What is it?” I cleared my throat, shaking my head to at least stay focused.

“I need your signature in signing your father’s documents.” He whispered, his voice still heavy from grief.

“Sorry.” I gulped and signed the papers with my shaky hands which he obviously noticed.

“Is everything alright, Alyssa?” He asked worriedly. 

“Huh?” I blinked and forced a smile. 

“Yeah, yeah… Just… father’s death. I think I need time to recover." I lied, not bringing the truth.

He loved Vince and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell him his beloved Nephew was the reason I was depressed and fallen from grace.

“You can tell me.” He reassured, giving me a feeble smile, “And besides, you have Vince.”

My mouth closed up.

“You have changed my cold nephew, he will definitely help you.” He continued, pride in this tone.

It disgusted me.

He was living in a lie just like I did. 

And all I could do was to give him a forced smile, “Yeah… Uncle.” 

After meeting with Uncle Andrew, I returned home, spent the day in a separate room.

I wasn’t ready to face Vince yet.

To look at him… only to find a murderer there. 

No, I couldn’t…. 

The next day, unwillingly, I found Vince was down. 

Immaculate. Unbothered. 

He stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark trousers, walking around the hall.

He was on a call with an executive while occasionally giving a precise nod.

He looked so calm. So controlled.

‘Is that the hand of a killer?’ I asked myself, watching him take out a cigarette and lighting it on fire. 

He almost smoked but when his eyes landed on me, he paused.

‘Did those hands push a man off a roof?’

I thought, tightening my grip on the railing. He closed his eyes briefly, crushing the cigarette on the ashtray and continued the call.

“Ma'am?”

I flinched, snapping my head toward a servant, who was standing beside me with a stack of signed documents.

“I asked if you wanted me to bring these down to your study or your room,” He repeated, his brow furrowed in concern. 

“Are you alright? You're pale.”

“I'm fine," I murmured, keeping my eyes fixed on Vince below. “No. Don't take them down yet. Take them back to my room.”

He turned to our room, which made me frown deeply. “Did you not hear what I said?” I hissed.

“I said my room. Not that one.” 

Giving me a worried nod, he quickly left to place the documents as I continued watching.

Down in the lobby, Vince glanced up. His sharp eyes locked onto mine instantly, as if he felt my gaze pulling at him. 

The cold, impenetrable look on his face didn't shatter, but his jaw tightened.

He wanted me back in the room.

But, I had no idea how to.

“Delay that deal for now. I don’t trust them.” 

He said a few quiet words to the executive, dismissed him with a nod, and walked straight toward me.

He took out his earbuds and tossed them on the nearby couch before approaching me.

My body froze, an undesirable shiver going down my spine as my steps began to retreat in order to avoid his presence.

“Alyssa, wait.” 

I didn’t listen. 

I turned around and walked back into my room, but I didn't close the door. I couldn't run anymore.

A minute later, the click of his dress shoes echoed in the hallway. 

Vince stepped through the doorway, narrowing his eyes with discontent, “I told you to wait.” 

I didn’t reply again.

He stood near the entrance, holding a cold distance between us.

“Wick told me you threw up earlier,” Vince said, emotionless. “And that you refused to eat.”

“You’re keeping an eye on me now?”

“I had to know if you won’t harm yourself again.”

“I wasn't hungry,” I said, my voice barely audible, slowly facing him with a frown.

“You're making yourself sick, Alyssa.” He crossed his arms, staring at me with those unreadable eyes. 

“This self-destruction serves no purpose.”

I stared at his face, searching every line, every shadow. 

‘How can someone who looks so human be so heartless? Were you ever real with me?’

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Vince asked, his tone clipping with subtle irritation.

“Like what?”

“Like I'm a threat.”

A cold laugh nearly escaped my lips. “Are you?”

“You're angry with me for what I hid from you. I accept that.”

Vince’s eyes narrowed slightly, taking one large but careful step towards me in order to lessen the irrecoverable sting.

“But do not act as though you are in danger in my presence.”

I didn't answer right away. 

I just stared at him, searching his handsome, unbothered face for a single trace of the saviour I thought I married.

“How much did you pay Ken to fake his love for me?” I asked quietly, almost painfully.

Vince didn't flinch as if he foresaw the question long ago. 

His expression remained an unreadable mask, but his shoulders went rigid.

“Why bring up old dust?” he asked.

“I just want to know,” I murmured, taking a slow step toward him, my voice barely above a whisper. 

“What did you intend to get by becoming my savior?”

Vince lowered his gaze for a brief second, adjusting his cuff before looking back at me.

“Everything,” he added, his eyes swept over me with an intensity that made my breath strangle me. 

“Your world. Your trust. Your love.... You.”

“And now?” Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. 

“Are you happy now, Vince? Now that my world is completely destroyed?”

I waited for a cold lie. 

I waited for him to manipulate me, to give me another soft promise or a clever excuse.

Instead, Vince let out a slow, quiet breath. 

The sharp edge in his posture vanished, leaving behind something distant and stripped bare.

“I don't know myself,” he replied, his voice terrifyingly quiet.

I blinked, taken aback by the lack of emotion in his answer.

“I feel empty,” Vince continued, staring right through me before retreating his steps with nothing but disappointment in his tone.

“As I always have.”