My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage - Chapter 150

Chapter 150:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

Meanwhile, Kristopher drove back to the inn, his jaw tight and his temper barely leashed. The tension in his expression could have shattered glass. When he reached his room, he swung the door open, only to be ambushed by a memory—Aspyn sitting at his bedside, her words needling at his nerves. His scowl deepened.

With a growl of frustration, he closed the door and marched back to the front desk. Tapping the counter with enough force to catch the receptionist’s startled attention, he said, “I need a different room.”

The receptionist, fresh into her shift, quickly composed herself. She recognized him immediately—Kristopher Norris, the guest the staff had been instructed to treat like royalty.

“Of course, Mr. Norris,” she replied, her cheeks tinged pink as she caught sight of his perfectly sculpted features. Even with his sour expression, he was devastatingly handsome. Rumor had it there was a celebrity staying at the inn, but she couldn’t imagine anyone more striking than Kristopher.

She swiftly located the best available room and gestured for him to follow.

As they headed down the hallway, the heavens opened up, unleashing a sudden downpour.

The receptionist laughed lightly. “Looks like your timing’s spot-on, Mr. Norris. A second later, and you’d have been soaked to the bone.”

Kristopher didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the rain as if it held answers to questions he hadn’t asked. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Carrie. She’d been wearing just a shirt earlier—what if she got caught in this storm? She’d get sick again…

Discover more on gα ℓ ησ ν𝒆 𝓁s, com

“Here we are, Mr. Norris,” the receptionist said, stopping at a door. “This is your room.”

Kristopher’s eyes flicked to the door across the hall. He kept his voice casual, though his heart was far from it. “Has the person in that room returned yet?”

Without looking up, she replied, “I’ve been here for two hours, and you’re the only one I’ve seen come in.” She opened his door and began to ask, “Mr. Norris, does this room meet your—”

But before she could finish, Kristopher turned on his heel and walked away, his long strides taking him toward the rain-drenched street without another word.

“Damn it!”

As the skies abruptly unleashed a torrential downpour, one of the men at the bar entrance cursed loudly. His fingers tightened around Carrie’s arm, pulling her along with a forceful tug.

Foxfire County was a remote area, its economy sputtering and stagnant, trailing Orkset by a good two decades in infrastructure and development.

This bar, a decrepit shell, was emblematic of the county’s neglect, lacking even the most basic security measures like surveillance cameras.

The vicinity was a perpetual construction site, a jumble of half-torn buildings and skeletal new structures, frequented by a transient and unpredictable crowd.

Any attempt to report tonight’s events to the police would likely be an exercise in futility, unlikely to lead to any arrests.

Carrie felt a pang of despair as her attempts to break free proved futile.

.

.

.