Chapter 2 Don't Be More Dead Than Alive

Eleonora was used to Quentin's behavior like this.

As long as he wanted to have s*x with her, he would not care about whether she was ready or not.

What Quentin had to do with her was only revenge.

After all, her family owed him a lot.

Eleonora admitted it.

She only hoped that Quentin could slowly dispel the hatred in his heart after torturing her again and again. Even if it could not be dispelled, it would be good to relieve the Balton family's sin.

On the high-end wooden floor, Eleonora silently endured his venting.

Eleonora had already been numb. She bit her lips and clenched her fists.

Tears of humiliation had already filled her eyes, but Eleonora tried her best to suppress them.

He didn't like her crying.

He finally had enough of sex with her, and Quentin turned over and went down.

He stood up coldly and went straight into the bathroom without saying anything.

Eleonora curled up, got up from the floor, and gathered her broken pajamas.

She felt that she must be very similar to the broken pajamas at this time.

She struggled to get up, went into the bedroom, and changed her pajamas.

She stared at the thin woman in the dressing mirror in a daze, and stretched out her hand to remove her black hair that covered half of her face.

Her face was as white as paper, and there was no vitality on her delicate face. Even her ruddy and sexy lips turned white now. Her beautiful eyes, which she was proud of, were very empty at this time.

She stretched out her slender hand and gently touched the big and small bruises on her collarbone and her chest, as if they were the shocking blossoming poppy flowers on her body. The pain in her heart suddenly intensified.

During a year's time limit, she was like a wisp of lingering soul in the Lance mansion.

She sniffed feebly and got out of the living room with her weary legs.

Quentin had the habit of drinking ginger sugar water to warm his stomach after drinking wine. She had to prepare it for him, although she was already very tired.

After she made the ginger soup, she came out of the kitchen.

Quentin had already taken a shower. His bathrobe was loosely draped over his body. His body was full of the unique fragrance after the bath.

At this time, he was sitting on the sofa in the living room with the newspaper that Eleonora had read just now in his hands.

"Ginger sugar water is ready. You should drink some to ease the hangover." Eleonora's voice was very low, and she also lowered her head.

Eleonora's heart trembled slightly when she saw the newspaper with his affair news on the front page in his hands.

In the past, Eleonora had always hidden these things carefully. She didn't want him to know that she as his wife knew about his affair. She wanted to hide it for a while.

"Now the paparazzi are getting more and more out of control and dare to write anything!" Quentin casually threw the newspaper on the tea table and raised his attractive lips, as if he was talking to himself or to Eleonora.

Eleonora buried her head in silence, and still held the cup of warm ginger sugar water in her hand.

She felt cold all over her body. The only warmth she could feel was from the cup of hot ginger sugar water in her hand.

Quentin looked at her and could not help feeling angry.

Why didn't she question him?

Why didn't she quarrel with him like a wife?

Did she accept it so obediently just to atone for her sin?

No wonder when she was facing the news of her husband's affair, she could turn a deaf ear to it.

Thinking of this, Quentin actually showed a hint of annoyance.

He took the cup from her hand, took a sip, and then spat it out. He frowned and shouted, "It's so hot. How can I drink it?"

As he said this, he threw the cup heavily to the ground. The china cup of the limited edition was broken into pieces.

The ground was in a mess.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I..." Eleonora wanted to explain, but she didn't know how to do it.

She squatted down and tried to pick up the pieces of debris on the ground.

"Eleonora, you have always been so frustrated. Do you feel so unhappy to see me?" Finally, Quentin became angry.

He looked down at Eleonora, who was squatting on the ground, and was very angry.

Without saying a word, Eleonora still sulkily picked up the broken pieces of the porcelain cup.

"I'm asking you. Can you stop wearing such a poker face every day? It's annoying to see it!" Quentin was angry that no matter how he treated her, she was always so indifferent as to make Quentin gasp in his heart.