After divorce, Ex-wife Revealed Identities

Sylvia had nothing to say.

It was none of her business.

She got off the car and stood there.

Now, what she was supposed to do was to go home, take a shower and have a nice sleep.

It was so exhausting to be the general director. She was tired.

Franklin, appearing to be miserable, clutched his stomach. He slowly approached Sylvia. It was so close that his face almost touched hers.

Sylvia took a step back, "If your stomach aches, take some pills." A sense of outrage oozed from Franklin. There was something intimidating in his dark eyes.

He had faked a pitiful look. Why didn't she show any sympathy toward him? He could not help feeling frustrated.

Jasper was wordless. ‘Mr. Maskelyne, you don't look pitiful at all. You are scary." After a while, Sylvia looked back at him calmly, "Don't be so childish, Franklin." Her cold voice was devoid of sympathy, which fanned the flames of anger inside Franklin.

‘What a merciless woman.’ "You think | can't live without you? Sylvia, for the sake of the old feelings, can't you make some pasta for me? | don't ask for much, just a plate of pasta.” Franklin raised his hands. His long, slender fingers caressed her face boldly, "Or do | have to resort to other measures to make you stay?" Sylvia wanted to avoid his touch, but it was too late.

His large and firm hand had gripped her wrist and dragged her towards the house...

Sylvia frowned. "What's he angry with?" Franklin kicked the door open.

The atmosphere in the living room almost froze, making everyone in this room stressed.

It was like a huge cage made of ice.

And Sylvia was in the middle of it.

She watched the man, whose eyes were as sharp as blades dipped in extreme coldness. A mere glance would carve her skin open and leave her flesh bare in the piercing coldness.

Rock, who was watering the flowers, came to the living room as he heard some noise.

When he entered and saw the two people confronting each other, he immediately put down his kettle and welcomed, "Mrs.

Maskelyne, you are back." Sylvia was incapable of speech.

Mrs. Maskelyne, what a familiar old name.

Franklin was standing in front of her in an oppressing manner.

He inhaled deeply to suppress the urge to correct her behavior.

"Rock has always been nice to you. He didn't have dinner either. Make some pasta, will you?" Rock, unaware of the tension between them, felt the atmosphere was a bit weird.

Sylvia forced herself to smile, though it was stiff, and looked into Rock's caring eyes, "Rock, you didn't have dinner?" He glanced at Franklin. Of course, he was to take Franklin's side. It was apparent that he was determined to keep Mrs.

Maskelyne here, which he was happy to see.

"No, | have not. | miss your cooking so much.” Sylvia had no other choice but to head to the kitchen.

Rock had been nice to her.

When others were nice to her, she repaid their kindness, and when others were mean to her, she would treat them the same way she was treated.

Therefore, she was not going to do anything that would harm Rock.

Franklin leaned on the couch leisurely. There were women out there more docile and lovely than Sylvia, but he was attracted by her alone, like a masochist.

His handmade suit was unbuttoned and two buttons of his black shirt inside were open, revealing his throat and collarbone and his half visible chest...

From where he was sitting, he could perfectly see what Sylvia was doing in the kitchen.

His eyes rested boldly on her, trying to catch even the slightest change on her face.

It was so sharp and dangerous that Sylvia felt a bit uncomfortable.

She had agreed to make dinner, what more did he want? Her movements got stiffened with his attention hovering around her.

Suddenly, he stood up, took off his suit, and walked to the kitchen.

He stared at her.

His thin lips curled into a faint smile, "Let me help you." He rolled up his sleeves and showed his arms, which were firm and masculine.

As he was washing the vegetables, the firm muscles visibly shifted and tensed.

He tilted his head a bit and saw her beautiful face. She was putting all her heart into making pasta.

She even made two eggs.

Franklin slowed down and stared at her silently.

"I want two eggs." His deep voice resounded through the kitchen.

Sylvia looked up and noticed how his face got more enchanting under the light yellow light.

"Don't you think it's too much? It's getting late.” "I'm hungry." His voice was so bland that it seemed no emotion was involved.

Sylvia made another egg.

Now that the pasta was almost done, she put the sauce in.

Soon, two plates of pasta were ready, one of which contained two eggs.

As Rock saw the plate with two eggs, he could not help cracking a smile. Mrs. Maskelyne was so partial, wasn't she? Did it suggest that she was willing to reconcile with Master Franklin? He thought naively as he was having dinner.

After watching Franklin eat them all, including the soup, Sylvia deeply believed that Franklin must have died of hunger in his former life.

"I should go," said Sylvia.

But Franklin caught her wrist and led her upstairs, "Time to sleep.” Sylvia struggled to get out. She raised another hand high, mustered all her strength, and waved it at him.

But he caught her easily and looked at her with irresistible force, "You will hurt both of us if you are going to fight with me." There was coldness ascending from the floor. Franklin's proud eyes rested on her. The corner of his mouth curved up slightly, "Are you really going to test my ability, sweetheart? I'm afraid you can't bear my attack." There was a trace of warning in his voice.

Sylvia stared back at him.

Her eyes were so clear and bright. A woman like her, insanely enticing, stirred his heart by merely standing there quietly...

Franklin, having regained control over his restless heart, pulled her into his chest and went upstairs while holding her.

It was still a bit confusing for Sylvia to come back to their old bedroom.

"You should take a shower.” She shifted her attention to Franklin, who said unexpectedly, "You and | together.” He was not as gullible as before. The moment he went into the bathroom, he was sure Sylvia would crack the window open and jump out.

Sylvia organized her thoughts, trying to suppress her anger, "Do you really believe I'm afraid to fight against you, Franklin?" Fight? She was never afraid of fights.

"I would never fight you." His long and slender fingers touched her wrist and gripped it as if he was afraid that she would escape.

He dragged her into the bathroom.

The water faucet was open and there was water coming out.

The spray formed a vague cloud, through which Silva's delicate face was as enchanting as a mermaid, her long and thick hair drifting.

Sylvia thought of the old days. At that time, she would always take a shower with Franklin. And when she was unbuttoning his clothes clumsily, she would be so shy that she could barely keep her eyes open.

But now, they were like strangers, treating each other so impatiently. Maybe it was because there was no love between them.

He embraced her into his arms.

"In the old times..." The moment Franklin opened his mouth, Sylvia interrupted, "Don't mention the old times." He kept silent and started unbuttoning himself.

Sylvia lowered her head, but accidentally, she caught sight of his broad shoulders, sexy chest, and six-pack stomach.

His upper body was perfectly shaped, like an inverted triangle, with a golden ratio and tempting lines.

As he was undressing, his black shirt slid down to the ground.

Suppressing her racing heartbeat, she whirled around to check the temperature of the water.

Feeling the lukewarm water flowing past her fingertips, she looked up, "It feels good." The moment she finished talking, a strong force shoved her into the bathtub...

The water almost swallowed her. After struggling to get to her feet, Sylvia glared at Franklin.

"You psychopath!" Her clothes were all soaked with water. And now they stuck closely on her as if they were her second layer of skin.

As Franklin was watching Sylvia trying to get out of the tub, something unfathomable was flickering in his dark eyes.

"Stay with me, sweetie." After saying that, he just directly stepped into the tub.

Sylvia, who was stunned, couldn't help staring at his firm torso.

Franklin stooped down, his long fingers gently touching Sylvia's face, "Sweetie..." His fingers were a bit rough, but they moved slowly along her silhouette with deep fondness and obsession...

His voice was deep and hoarse, his eyes were filled with affection for her.

The sound of the water running down echoed in Sylvia's ears, bringing her back to reality.