Chapter 51 The Fragile Him
Emily's whole body trembled.
The man's breath was scorching hot, yet his voice carried a barely detectable fragility.
How long had it been since she'd seen Alex like this?
It seemed like the last time was three years ago, when he broke up with Grace and Baker Corporation was pushed to the brink.
Now, was he like this because of her?
Before Emily could think further, the strong smell of alcohol made her stomach churn, and she almost couldn't hold back from throwing up.
The physical discomfort made her instinctively want to push him away. "Alex, don't act crazy drunk at my place!"
"If you want someone to take care of you, go find Grace."
Emily's words were icy, without a trace of concern.
The man's embrace paused for a moment, but then tightened even more like an iron clamp. "Just hold me for a bit, just a moment... Who's Grace? Don't... don't know her, just want my wife!"
Emily didn't know what to say.
She looked at the man burying his head in the crook of her neck, her heart a jumble of emotions.
In her memory, he was always cold and arrogant.
Even in bed, he carried that dominating intensity of controlling everything, never showing such a completely unguarded appearance.
Where was all this before?
Emily's voice was cold and hard, with a hint of suppressed nausea. "You reek of alcohol. I'll make you some hangover soup."
If this continued, the morning sickness she'd just suppressed would come back, and she didn't want to torture herself.
She thought Alex would keep clinging, but unexpectedly, he slowly released his grip.Emily turned on the bedside lamp.
Warm yellow soft light—she had picked out this lamp while shopping. When she put it in the master bedroom, it was criticized as not classy enough, yet no one had thrown it out either.
In the dim environment, Alex stared at her intensely, his eyes swirling with drunkenness and complexity.
He actually... looked like a lost child?
Emily frowned, clearly unwilling to deal with him, and got up to leave the bed.
"Wait."
Her wrist was instantly grabbed, his large palm gently rubbing against her delicate skin.
Emily's voice held more impatience. "What exactly do you want? Haven't you made enough of a scene?"
Made enough of a scene?
These words made Alex freeze even more.
He never thought that one day, Emily would be the one saying such words to him.
After a long silence, Alex pulled out a velvet box from his pocket.
When he clumsily opened it, Emily saw clearly what was inside.
It was their wedding ring.
Emily's pupils contracted slightly.
That day at the club, provoked by Grace's taunts, she had thrown the ring out in anger.
She had thought the ring would be swept up by the club's cleaning staff and thrown in the trash, but unexpectedly, Alex had picked it back up.
The ring's surface was wiped clean, without even a single scratch, clearly having been carefully preserved.
Emily's heart felt like something had violently struck it, and a dense, spreading pain immediately spread through her.
Her eyes reddened uncontrollably, and her nose stung terribly.
She had once treasured this ring so much.
When they first got married, she wore it every day, reluctant to take it off even when sleeping.
Back then, she thought this ring represented a lifelong promise.
She thought Alex would eventually see her sincerity.
But three years... had exhausted all her expectations and love.
This ring had also become the most painful thorn in her heart.
Now seeing it again... Emily pressed her lips tightly together and reached out to take it.
But just as she was about to touch the ring, Alex suddenly gripped her hand. "Let me put it on you."
With that, he slipped the ring onto her ring finger.
The cool metal touched her skin, and Emily frowned. "I don't need you to put it on me. We're about to get divorced anyway—what are you pretending for? If you have this time, you'd be better off thinking more about Grace's unborn child!"
"Don't take it off." Alex's voice was hoarse. "Emmie, give me one more chance, okay?"
Emily looked at him strangely. "Did you take the wrong medicine?"
Alex didn't speak, just wanted to kiss her.
The faint smell of alcohol drew closer and closer, and Emily sharply turned her head away. "Don't touch me, it's disgusting!"
Alex froze.
He looked at Emily's cold profile, the light in his eyes gradually dimming. "Is this the only path left between us? It wasn't like this before, why did you..."
"Alex." Emily's voice was icy, yet carried a hint of self-mockery. "It's too late."
"Between us, it ended long ago."
"From the moment you abandoned me again and again to find Grace."
"From the moment you never took me to heart, yet treated me as a tool for appearances, you would always abandon me for other things."
"This isn't the kind of marriage I wanted. Three years is enough—there's no need to keep dragging this out."
The last sentence revealed endless exhaustion.
She forcefully pulled the ring off her finger, placed it on the bedside table, and her tone returned to its previous indifference. "You should go. This isn't your room."
Alex looked at her resolute appearance, his heart aching so much he couldn't breathe.
He wanted to say something, but had nothing to say.
He looked deeply at Emily, that gaze containing too many emotions.
Finally, he turned and staggered out of the room.
The door was gently closed.
Only Emily's sobbing remained.
She looked at the solitary ring on the bedside table, and tears finally fell.
She had once loved him so much.
But that love had long been worn away in countless days and nights of being ignored.
"Forget it, this is the best ending."
"Neither of us should move forward anymore."
This marriage was like a rose covered in thorns.
It looked beautiful, but when you actually held it in your hand, it would only hurt the person who truly gave their heart.
The next morning, the assistant arrived at the old mansion at dawn. "Mr. Baker, the car is waiting outside. Today we have the project presentation, and the morning meeting is with the subsidiary company..."
The assistant gave his report methodically, his voice full of caution, afraid that his boss might fire him if he got upset.
Alex hadn't slept all night, his eyes full of bloodshot veins, clearly having slept poorly, his aura increasingly oppressive, even revealing traces of irritation.
He sat on the living room sofa, silently smoking, the atmosphere frighteningly tense.
Ten minutes later.
The assistant glanced upstairs. "Mr. Baker, we should go."
If they didn't leave now, they'd be late for the company meeting!
There was still no movement upstairs. Alex stubbed out his cigarette and got up to leave.
Just then, Susan ran out from the kitchen, holding a thermos. "Mr. Baker! Wait a moment. You didn't eat breakfast. This is hangover soup—drink it on the way."
Alex paused slightly, looking at the thermos, a trace of surprise flashing in his eyes.