Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 141

She was hiding secrets from him—secrets he couldn’t begin to guess.

And that made Darren’s prideful sense of control slip right through his fingers.

No matter what it took, he was determined to break down every last wall between them, to force her into complete honesty.

Charlotte bit her lip. “If I were you, Darren, I’d be busy figuring out who pushed your little brat down the stairs.”

“My little brat?” His voice was dangerously soft.

Every time she deliberately distanced herself from Noah, refusing even to acknowledge their mother-son bond, something tight and resentful twisted in Darren’s throat.

His tone grew icier. “Charlotte, Noah is your son too.”

Charlotte’s reply was as cold as steel. “I only have one son now. His name is Ryan.”

The words pierced Darren’s chest, leaving him winded and aching.

His hand clenched around the cold iron chain linking her wrists, his voice taut with frustration as he pressed her further. “If you’re really as indifferent to Noah as you claim, why did you rush to the hospital? Why did you force your way into the operating room?”

She met his gaze, unflinching. “Practice.”

“What did you say? Practice?” Darren’s eyes narrowed, shock flickering across his face.

Charlotte watched the pain flicker over his expression, and twisted the knife. “I’ve never performed an intracranial surgery on a five-year-old before. Today was just a rare chance—a living, breathing case to practice on. I thought I’d make use of it. Judging by the results, I’d say it went pretty well.”

“You—” The strength seemed to drain from Darren’s body.

No. She was just lashing out, saying whatever she could to hurt him.

“Charlotte…” He leaned in, his presence overwhelming, his voice low and threatening. “You keep trying to distract me. But I’m done playing these games. If you don’t give me a straight answer tonight, I’ll strip you down and check every inch of you myself.”

Before his words had even faded, the sound of ripping fabric echoed through the room.

Under his forceful, unyielding grip, her resistance seemed as fragile as the thin clothes she wore—shredded and useless.

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