Ignatius Leclair's arm was covered in bruises that Delphine had pinched onto him.
Feeling a little guilty, but also confident that she hadn't done anything wrong, she said with justified arrogance, "I'll take responsibility for you."
The man let out a cold laugh, "I have a wife."
Delphine's mouthful of grievances and dissatisfaction were instantly soothed by those few words, and a slight smile appeared at the corners of her lips as she randomly responded, "Mm."
"But she doesn't want me anymore." The man said, sitting on the sofa, his voice low and muffled, barely audible, as his handsome face turned somber again, anger flickering in his eyes.
Delphine's heart was tightly clenched, wanting to tell him to go through with the surgery, that she still needed him, but the words stuck in her throat, and she said nothing.
"Get out." Ignatius Leclair's expression suddenly turned gloomy again, shouting irritably, "The farther you get, the better."
