Chasing My Pregnant Wife (Rosalie and Theodore)

"Aren't you?" Rosalie asked him back.

Vincent placed the key in her hand. "I'd rather see this as some sort of transaction."

Rosalie accepted the car key. "Why are you letting me off early?"

Vincent emptied the beer bottle, then took the bottle that Rosalie drank from and emptied that too. He finished two bottles of beer at one go, his eyes looking empty and listless.

"Because it's time for me to wake up from my dream. You're not Youngie. I'm just grasping at memories that no longer are now."

If he allowed this to go on, he would only find it harder to extricate himself from this. He might lock this woman up here forever and take her as Youngie, but he knew that would never happen. Rosalie looked at him in silence and opened her mouth, wanting to ask him something, but he had warned her repeatedly not to talk about Youngie.

Therefore, she swallowed the words that were at the tip of her tongue and eventually said nothing. She simply looked quietly at him.

Sorrow billowed in his eyes, but he covered it up with a smile.

"I feel very bad for injuring your neck. Many people want me dead, so I'm very alert even when asleep. Any movement I sense is malicious and dangerous by default."

"Why do many people want you dead? If you don't mind, you can tell me about it. I won't tell anyone else."

Rosalie was growing curious about him. She had a niggling feeling he had many stories to tell.

He wasn't the same as ordinary people.

"Because I've killed many people myself. I killed their entire families and didn't even spare their dog!"

Vincent clenched his fists as he spoke, his brows tightly knitted as a cold, murderous look burned in his eyes.

Rosalie's heart leaped at his words. "Whose...whose family did you kill?"

"Many people's," Vincent said as he turned around, his gaze calmly landing on something in the distance. "So many that I can't even count. Their blood flows like a river." Rosalie suddenly felt nervous. Her fingers intertwined with each other as she started breaking out in cold sweat.

"Why?"

"Are you asking me why? Hah."

Vincent started laughing.

"Murder is murder. Do I need a reason for it? Just take me as a serial killer."

"But you're not. I want to know why you killed them all."

Serial killers did exist in this world, and they killed without rhyme or reason. They just wanted to kill and are perverted.

However, she instinctively sensed that Vincent wasn't like that.

Vincent leaned back on the couch and stared blankly at the ceiling.

It was rare that someone believed him like this.

"I once lived here with Youngie. She always kept this house spick and span and cooked for me. I ended up being useless at home and knew nothing except fighting and killing people.

"But one time, Youngie fell out of love and wasn't herself anymore. She couldn't eat or sleep and even stopped doing the laundry. She left all her dirty clothes lying around and even started wearing my clothes."

Vincent turned around and went on, "That's the shirt you wore the last time. She wore it once. I thought she had returned, she had come back to me." Rosalie fell silent.

No wonder he looked at her that way that time, as if he was looking at someone else.

"During that time, it became my turn to take care of Youngie, cooking for her and washing her clothes. I even that man who broke her

beat up

heart. But after I returned, Youngie blamed me and flared up at me. She

liked that man too much."

Rosalie's lips twitched.