The Contract Wife Tries to Leave - Chapter 154
“…….”
At that moment, Johanna acknowledged and accepted her own foolishness. There was no way to completely surrender her heart. Seeing him every day, sharing intimacy—it was impossible to suppress her feelings entirely.
What had made her so confident? Why did she think she could handle this?
How foolish of you, Johanna.
She left the room and headed toward the gallery. Nella followed, moving so quietly, like a shadow, that it didn’t bother her.
Since the kidnapping incident, Nella had been noticeably subdued, plagued by regret for having run away alone, leaving Johanna behind. Johanna knew that escaping and seeking help had been the wisest choice, even if Nella couldn’t fully accept that.
She was, at her core, a kind person, and Johanna appreciated that, even if it was still difficult to fully open her heart to her.
The injury to her ankle made the journey to the gallery take longer than usual. Once they arrived, Johanna told Nella she wished to view the paintings alone. Though reluctant to leave Johanna alone, Nella nodded, understanding that there was no other option, and withdrew.
Left alone in the vast, quiet gallery, Johanna slowly approached Karl’s painting.
A pure white world filled her view.
As always, this painting stirred a feeling of longing within her, a gentle ache that seeped into her heart as she gazed at it in silence.
“…….”
A winter scene that, despite the cold season, conveyed warmth…
And a fragrance reminiscent of winter itself.
Only now did she finally understand why Leonid’s pheromones had felt so beautiful to her.
It was longing.
Your scent was like my oldest, deepest yearning.
* * *
“Hold on! You can’t just—urk!”
Leonid effortlessly struck down the guards trying to block his path. Every step he took left a trail of blood, with groaning men scattered on the floor, clutching their wounds, broken bones, or bleeding cuts. There must have been at least twenty of them.
After slamming the last one’s head into the wall, knocking him out cold, Leonid threw open the office door where the bastard was holed up.
Just as expected, Ilian was lounging comfortably at the head of the spacious room, a smug grin spreading across his face as their eyes met. He tilted his head, sneering, a look that always grated on Leonid’s nerves but tonight sparked an especially intense fury.
“Your Grace the Marquis, are you insane? Do you know where you are, barging in all alone?”
“Shut up.”
Imagining putting a bullet through the sneering bastard’s head, Leonid strode up to the desk and threw a heavy bag stuffed with cash onto it.
Thud!
With a hefty sound, the bag’s mouth opened, and bundles of money spilled out in heaps. Glancing down at the pile, Ilian muttered in a voice tinged with amusement.
“This is exactly what I think it is, isn’t it?”
“The debt Johanna owes you. Including interest.”
“Oh… so you’re paying it off for her? You must be quite taken with her, Your Grace.”
“None of your business, you bastard.”
Leonid lunged over the desk, grabbing Ilian by the collar. Just then, the office door burst open, and half a dozen burly men stormed in.
“Boss!”
Seeing their leader’s collar in Leonid’s grip, they glared, ready to intervene. But Ilian raised a hand, stopping them with a simple gesture.
“Stand down. You’ll only get hurt.”
“But, Boss…”
One of the men started to protest, only for his voice to falter as he locked eyes with Leonid. The marquis’s piercing, murderous crimson gaze was more beast than man, as if he’d tear anything in his path to shreds.
That kind of look usually meant the man behind it was far from sane. Nervously, the man gulped, falling silent.
“I can see you’re angry. Go ahead, hit me if you must, Your Grace. I was prepared for it.”
“…….”
“By the way, is Johanna doing alright? Last I saw, she was collapsing from the effect of my pheromones.”
Those words made Leonid’s rage explode. He yanked Ilian forward and threw him to the ground with force. Ilian’s body crashed over the desk and tumbled to the floor, scattered bills fluttering in the air like fallen leaves.
The sheer power with which Leonid had lifted and hurled a fully grown man left Ilian’s men staring, fear frozen on their faces.
“The word monster doesn’t even begin to describe this…”
Mumbling what his followers were too terrified to say aloud, Ilian staggered to his feet. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, yet he made no move to fight back, seeming to genuinely mean his earlier words.
No sooner had he regained his balance than Leonid’s boot connected with his shin, making Ilian stumble with a grunt. Without a pause, Leonid seized his collar again, delivering a fierce slap across his cheek.
