the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart
Chapter 74 Come Over, Beg Me Properly

Chapter 74: Chapter 74 Come Over, Beg Me Properly

The study was shrouded in darkness. Dusk hovered on the edge of nightfall, while the garden’s pathway lights had been lit, their pale glow casting a faint yellow tint against the windows of the study.

A tall, commanding figure of a man stood by the window, cigarette held loosely between his fingers, its embers still burning. The atmosphere was suffocatingly cold.

Delphine pushed the door open with force and rushed inside, her voice hoarse as she called out, "Ignatius Leclair."

She rarely called his name. Since returning to Nanyang, this was her first time. In her reckless youth, she had carved those three words onto the core of her heart. She had grown to love everything steeped in the deep hues of twilight. Later, to survive, she chose to forget all of it—including the name.

The man’s silhouette remained unmoving by the window. He squinted and took a drag from the cigarette, his long fingers holding it with casual elegance. Slowly, he exhaled a pale ring of smoke.

In the silence of the space, the scent of tobacco spread lazily through the air.

"Your mother is about to be beaten to death, isn’t she?" Ignatius spoke, his voice low and languid, laced with a mocking edge.

Finally, the man turned around. His coldly handsome face was sculpted to perfection. His narrowed eyes fixed on the pale-faced, panic-stricken woman before him, curling into a sneer that was impossibly frigid.

Delphine stood frozen in place, staring at the man’s expression. Her heart plummeted into an icy abyss.

Lowering her gaze, something spilled from the corner of her eye. Her voice trembled with an unprecedented humility, "I beg you, please save my mother."

"Heh." Ignatius squinted further, the dark turbulence in his eyes intensifying.

Gracefully, the man stubbed out his cigarette and spoke with detached indifference, "Come here. Beg me properly."

His voice was chilling, suffocatingly so.

Delphine’s entire body trembled, her blood feeling as though it had frozen solid. She raised her eyes to look at Ignatius.

She closed her eyes, as if seeing the Ignatius from years ago—a man standing high above, icy and merciless, announcing, "From today onward, you are banished from Nanyang. Never return."

Numbly, she walked forward, stopping in front of Ignatius, and bent her knees, preparing to kneel.

Icy malice overtook Ignatius’s striking, cold demeanor. He grabbed her slender arm and forced her against the floor-to-ceiling window. His low, chilling laughter echoed as he suppressed her, "Next time you kneel, make sure you strip off all your clothes first. That’s the only way to show sincerity."

His words were humiliating and cruel.

"Please, I’m begging you—save my mother."

Long ago, she had learned what it meant to live life as if walking on the edge of a blade. It was only because they had chosen the wrong path.

Her mother was greedy for luxury, obsessed with vanity, hopelessly blind to reason. She, on the other hand, indulged in foolish delusions, falling for a man who could never belong to her. This was punishment of their own making. Years of self-inflicted suffering and self-exile had brought no release.

Ignatius reached the peak of his fury. Grabbing her delicate face within his palm, he growled darkly, his voice biting, "Delphine Carter, if you don’t want Beatrice to be beaten to death, stay away from that man forever."

His large hand moved to grip her slim waist, squeezing hard enough to nearly crush her. Delphine writhed in extreme discomfort, softly crying out, "It hurts."

She wasn’t truly in pain; she simply couldn’t endure this level of intimate inevitability. Ignatius was the kind of man who responded only to softness, never harshness. She had always understood his nature—if she surrendered gently, coaxed him tenderly, she wouldn’t suffer terribly.

But she never acted coy. Once she stepped too deeply into a role, there was no way out.

The man allowed himself to be hugged tightly by her, as though he was her only anchor in the storm. Slowly, his volatile temper was appeased.

Knowing how frail she was, Ignatius refrained from pushing further. Yet his anger was undeniable, and with a change of clothes, he slammed the door and left.

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