Love Me, Hate Me

Late at night.

In the villa of the Lance family, which was located in the prime area of City A.

Eleonora Balton looked around the luxurious and a little dreamy big living room, and felt strange as well as heart-wrenching.

Home!

This was her home with Quentin Lance. They had stayed here for a year.

There was a hint of helplessness at the corners of Eleonora's mouth.

She put away today's newspaper. In the newspaper, her husband, Quentin, held a beautiful woman in his arms.

This kind of rumor news would appear in newspapers, magazines and even on TV from time to time.

Eleonora had already gotten used to it.

She feebly snuggled up on the sofa, folded her legs, and withdrew her scattered eyes. A stream of cold liquid slipped from the corners of her eyes unconsciously.

Outside the door, the dull footsteps sounded. However, no matter how familiar it was for Eleonora, it was enough to make her flustered when she heard it.

Eleonora quickly wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes.

He had said that he hated women crying the most.

If he saw her tears, he would be unhappy again.

Eleonora couldn't help straightening her back.

The door opened.

The living room suddenly became so quiet that she could hear his somewhat rapid breathing.

Eleonora turned her head and saw his handsome and arrogant but unusually cold face. There was a slight sense of drunkness in his cold eyes.

He drank again.

Eleonora couldn't help shivering.

Although he was her husband in the past year, he was like a passer-by in the home.

He always came here from time to time. Every time he came, Eleonora would suffer psychological and physical pains. When he was drunk, he would cause a great pain to Eleonora.

His arrival made Eleonora feel a chill rising from the bottom of her heart in July.

"You... are back?" Eleonora asked timidly.

Quentin frowned and did not answer.

He gracefully shook off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. More than half of his strong wheat-colored chest was exposed.

"Come here!" Quentin looked at Eleonora, who was still sitting on the sofa, with great dissatisfaction. "Didn't you see your husband coming back?"

She stood up and timidly went towards him.

Before she could get close to him, she had been pulled over by him.

He held her tightly in front of his chest. She smelled the perfume that couldn't be covered by the smell of wine on his body.

Eleonora bit her lip and felt a stabbing pain in her heart.

The newspaper said that Yvonne Moore was the closest to Quentin recently. This woman was just Eleonora's college classmate, and they had a good relationship. It had long been heard that the woman had an immeasurable political background.

He took her to all kinds of important occasions. Even Eleonora thought that Yvonne should be Quentin's real wife, while she was just a big joke.

The wife stayed alone in the empty room, and the husband was having an extramarital affair outside.

Eleonora thought of the woman who nestled in her husband's arms like a little bird. Their intimate photos almost occupied most of the page of the newspaper.

Eleonora was not a puppet. When she saw this, she would feel heartache and suffocate. But she had never quarreled with Quentin.

It was not that she didn't dare to do so, but she had known her limitation. This marriage just existed in name for him.

As a wife, she might be fired by him for his fury today or tomorrow.

When they were married, he stated it very clearly, "You should know the reason for this marriage. Don't expect me to love you, and don't expect you to be my wife in my heart. When I think it's enough, you can no longer be Mrs. Lance anytime!"

Until now, what he had said after getting drunk that night was still like a deep scar engraved in her heart. The touch of it would make her bleed.

So, no matter what he had done outside, she as his wife, who was about to be fired at any time and had no status, had no qualification to complain.

When Quentin saw that Eleonora's mind was wandering, he sneered.

Was this woman always so absent-minded?

He didn't care, and began to wander around her body through the thin nightgown with his hands.

Quentin's actions on Eleonora were always more than words.

Before Eleonora was fully prepared, Quentin's lips had already covered her lips overbearingly. He greedily touched her body, and soon tore her silk pajamas into pieces.