Hatred Is Always Better Than Being Forgotten
Joseph’s chest burned with restless heat, a fervor that demanded release. The alcohol he consumed
tonight was unusually odd, likely tampered with by the old man. Yet, at this moment, he could not spare
a thought for that. His mind was consumed by vivid images of Chloe together with Noah, their hands
intertwined.
‘Why is she always so defiant? She had explicitly promised to end things with Icarus, but here she is,
gravitating toward Noah. Does she truly believe she can’t exist without a man by her side?”
Overwhelming jealousy broke through his last line of defense, and Joseph stared at her
intently before impulsively capturing her lips in a forceful kiss. Chloe, never one to silently endure, was
like a cornered rabbit ready to fight back.
Smack!
She delivered a resounding slap across his face, sparing no mercy. The force of her strike turned his
face to the side, rendering him momentarily motionless. Time seemed suspended as the aftermath of
her action unfolded. The imprint of Chloe’s hand marred his once flawlessly handsome features,
accentuated by the still-healing wound on his forehead. A tinge of pity emerged from the depths of her
heart as she observed the now reddened face before. her.
Chloe gazed blankly at her own hand, feeling a tingling numbness resonate in her palm. She had not
anticipated exerting such force. All she had intended was to teach him a lesson.
As Joseph slowly turned his neck, his eyes mirrored the frigid essence of a solitary winter moon,
brimming with a volatile fury. His expression was truly terrifying.
Chloe trembled uncontrollably, her instinct driving her to leap off the bed and make a desperate attempt
to flee. In the blink of an eye, he seized her waist with a firm grip, forcefully yanking her back into his
clutches. Yet, this time, there was no gentle catch to soften her fall. His eyes bore an indifferent gaze
as she crashed onto the bed, pain coursing through her entire being. Fear consumed her, compelling
her to struggle and clamber to her feet,
desperately yearning for escape.
Joseph exerted pressure, subduing her beneath his weight. He gazed at the woman, her body adorned
with bruises and marks. His heart felt heavy with sorrow as he gently lifted her toward the bathroom.
Wash. Wipe.
Chloe screwed her eyes shut, resolute in her refusal to meet his gaze.
Returning to the bed, Joseph’s voice resonated with calmness, “Open your eyes and look at me.
Still, she remained unresponsive, her brows furrowing, a testament to her deep-seated emotions. Her
disdain for him was palpable. She despised him.
The veins on the back of Joseph’s hand twitched, and he forcefully grasped her chin, compelling her to
open her eyes. “Do you dislike me?”
“I don’t just dislike you, I hate you!” Chloe screamed in a hoarse voice. As her eyes met with his,
scalding tears streamed down her face and landed on his fingers. She sniffled, her words punctuated
with determination. “I regret the day I ever got close to you, and I regret marrying you even more!”
‘If only none of this had happened, how wonderful it would be,’ she thought, consumed by
regret.
Upon hearing the word “hate,” Joseph’s pupils suddenly contracted. He spoke slowly, his voice tinged
with resignation. “Then hate me.”
Hatred was always better than being forgotten.
The night passed in restlessness as Chloe, unable to find solace, failed to find sleep.
In the early morning, Patrick observed the two emerging from the room and offered a smile. ” Breakfast
is ready. Have a meal before you depart.”
“No, I want to go home,” Chloe replied with a weary shake of her head, her eyes bearing dark
circles.
Patrick was taken aback as he looked at the man who had equally heavy dark circles, feeling puzzled.
‘This shouldn’t be happening. I measured the amount I put in the drink last night. How is it possible that
instead of improving their relationship, it seems to have worsened? They’re like enemies now,’ he
thought.
Patrick pulled Chloe aside and cautiously asked, “Ms. Chloe, regarding you and Mr. Joseph…”
“Forget about us being together. It’s impossible,” Chloe replied, rubbing her temples. “You and Grandpa
need not concern yourselves any longer,”
She had noticed Joseph’s peculiar behavior the previous night, but even if the old man had not
intervened, she believed he still would not let her
1.
Patrick spoke earnestly, “I can see that you and Mr. Joseph have feelings for each other.
Someone like Xavia can never marry into the Whitmans. It’s impossible.”
“What does it matter if it’s impossible? She carries a Whitman child in her womb. Even if her Identity
isn’t acknowledged, her child will call her mother. What’s the difference?” Chloe
sighed. “Can Grandpa control everything indefinitely?”
Stepping back, if Xavia gave birth to the child, even if Harold never agrees, considering Xavia’s young
age, she could endure and strive to achieve her desires in the end.
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