Atlas Hallow’s palm was wide, and his fingers were long and slender. As the pressure increased bit by bit, Charlotte Miller felt the pain from her shoulder. It intensified until it seemed like the bones in her entire shoulder were about to be crushed by him, almost hearing an illusionary sound of bones cracking.
"Speak quickly..." Atlas’s eyes were as if they were frozen, and even his voice was chillingly cold.
The anger burned inside him like a fire; he didn’t even expose Charlotte’s lie when she opened the door.
Atlas’s anger stemmed not only from Charlotte’s deceit but also from himself.
He realized that Charlotte’s influence on him was growing deeper, and that was the most frightening part.
Before her, nothing and no one could affect him, but everything changed when Charlotte appeared.
When Charlotte locked the office door, it made him feel how ridiculous the snacks he brought back for her were.
This was the first time he had done such a thing for a woman, yet instead of being met with her smile and gratitude, she locked the door to rendezvous with another man in the office—it was utterly ridiculous.
"Who’s in your office?" Atlas’s voice grew colder, his obsidian-like gaze more stern. He lowered his eyes, his intimidating look fixed on the woman in pain and trembling under his tight grip on her shoulder.
Charlotte didn’t even dare to struggle, as if any struggle would get her torn apart by him.
At that moment, Atlas seemed like a devil.
The most terrifying part was his eyes, the dark light in them gradually turned to shards of cold air, spreading throughout the vast office. Even with the heating on, his aura was so cold that it chilled Charlotte to the core....
She thought she had deceived Atlas, feeling a bit smug when he held her waist and left the office, thinking she had escaped unscathed. But now she realized that she and Atlas were not on the same level at all.
"It’s Ethan, actually, he just came to drop something off for me." Charlotte’s voice trembled. She tried hard to calm her voice, but the deep fear made her teeth nearly chatter.
Ethan—she called him so intimately, while she always addressed Atlas by his full name, never even managing to call him Atlas once. Sometimes she even referred to him as President Hallow, and anger started to override reason.
"Did I lack anything for you? Is there something you wouldn’t ask me for? Do I look like I’m dead?" Atlas, upon hearing Charlotte’s words, was more incensed, his entire being engulfed in rage, his eyes scarlet as if they were going to devour her.
With a simple sentence, this woman had burned away all his reason with jealousy and anger.
It turned out, in her heart, he, her legitimate husband, held no place at all.
If she needed anything, wouldn’t she ask him? Could he not provide it?
Atlas imagined Ethan Baird bringing things to Charlotte. His handsome face was extremely gloomy; he had warned Charlotte not to have too much contact with Ethan Baird, but this woman wouldn’t listen at all.
His lungs felt filled with large, sticky bubbles of air, unable to breathe, about to explode.
He was truly infuriated...