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Caged by the Billionaire

“Squeal———” The screeching of emergency brakes tore through the entire night sky. Her body, like a broken bag, was flung onto the windshield, and then, rolled down to the ground viciously. That light purple evening gown was soon soaked red with the blood gushing down her legs. In the pool of blood, she lay silently on the ground, with only the images of his entanglement with that woman at the wedding lingering in her mind… Four years of entanglement, a single contract. He was President Leng, the finance mogul who could summon the wind and call the rain, icily imposing, his authority unchallenged. On a rainy night after breaking up with his beloved girlfriend, he found her, a helpless and orphaned girl, at the head of the bridge. He didn't love her, yet he made her his woman, a woman to bear his children. He had always just been used to her presence, until that night, when he saw her lying in a pool of blood with his child… She was the mute orphan who had relied solely on Ah Mo since childhood, born into hardship, calm and resilient. At the age of eighteen, to escape a fate of being sold by her uncle, she fled the small fishing village and met the cold and lofty him in the strange city. He paid for Ah Mo’s medical expenses, for her university education, they were entwined night and day, but all for the sake of a heir. That night, a car accident, a miscarriage, a broken heart, all she could do was leave in sorrow… [Note] The story is slightly tragic throughout but has a fulfilling conclusion. Finished work by Anxiang http://read.xxsy.net/info/162141.html Zuifei Crime http://read.xxsy.net/info/212178.html “Torture the Concubine”

Faint fragrance · Urban
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247 Chs

Chapter 157

"Beep..." Suddenly, a car horn sounded on the path, piercingly loud in the quiet flower field, drawing the busy farmers' attention to its source.

Her heart began to race, could it be that man had come again?

A car approached, its gleaming body and top-quality tires unmistakenly identifying it as that familiar silver vehicle. Then, with a "screech," it came to a steady stop at the entrance of the flower garden.

Startled, she stood up and took a step back.

As the car door opened, out stepped a figure even taller and more robust than that man, with slightly curled brown hair, fair skin, a high nose bridge, and a pair of bright brown eyes, complemented by deep eye sockets and long eyelashes—quite charming indeed.

It wasn't that man, but the American man from the photograph.

"Hello, is this Yati's home?" he asked in broken Chinese, with an American accent. He walked into the courtyard, his brown eyes scanning the name of the flower garden as he looked around.