Ignatius Leclair's fingertip motion paused slightly, and a tumultuous rage churned within his phoenix eyes.
Although he had allowed those rumors in the South Seas to run unchecked, this woman was probably wishing every day to leave him.
Ignatius sneered coldly. These past days, he had been mired in a quagmire of entanglement and struggle, even deliberately neglecting her.
He did truly like her appearance, liked her body, even liked her heartlessness and indifferent, aloof personality. But he had never imagined that one day she could influence some of his decisions.
Originally, he had planned to gradually distance himself, separate, and wait until he became accustomed to the feeling of her absence. Perhaps then, life would return to the way it used to be.
Just like the little deer he had saved during his youth—after raising it for a few years, he released it back into the wild, and all he felt was sadness for a few days.
