After divorce I am a billionaire

Malcolm smiled lightly without changing his face, "I'm in good health. What can happen?" Lyra didn't believe it at all, having spent so much time with him and knowing his smallest gestures too well.

It was a little normal if it happened once or twice. For three days in a row, that was too abnormal.

She reached toward Malcolm, "Give me the bowl. | want to eat it myself." Seeing her insistence, Malcolm handed her the bowl and instructed in a gentle voice, "Be careful. Don't get burned.” Lyra nodded her head.

The moment she took the bowl, she turned her hand and put it on the bedside table, grabbed Malcolm's hand with both hands and lifted his cuffs with one hand to check his wrist which had just reacted visibly.

"Rara!" By the time Malcolm pulled his hand back, it was too late, and Lyra could already see the broken skin and red welts on his wrist.

Lyra stared at him in shock, with anger brewing in her chest, "How did you get hurt like this? Even when you made mistakes, | never spared to beat you so hard. Who did this?" Malcolm lowered his eyes which were flickering slightly. He did not dare look at her in the eye and tightened his cuffs with guilty conscience.

"No one did it. It was when | was cooking porridge, | was accidentally burned by the edge of the pot. | didn't rinse with the cool water in time afterwards. | didn't expect to break the skin, but it has been medicated. Don't worry." How was it possible not to worry? Lyra's eyes reddened as she carefully recalled the scene she had just seen.

How can a pot rim burn be that large piece of skin and the bruises were flat, like they were hit by something.

"I don't believe you. Put your hand out and I'll take a closer look." He didn't move, very much in denial, "It's really okay. No need to make a fuss." "Come on, hold it out!" Her tone was heavier. It was a command that brooked no argument.

"Why are you hiding your injury?" Malcolm lowered his head and remained motionless, not explaining or reaching out.

He was inwardly depressed. Lyra was really shrewd as always. A little small action can not hide her eyes.

"Mel, you know me. | will not rest until | reach my goal. You can not show me now, but you have to be sure that you can hide it.

Otherwise | will know sooner or later." She lightened her tone and went to grab the back of his hand, "I am heartbroken for you. Let me see it." Malcolm pulled his hand back to keep her from touching it.

Seeing that he was so resistant, Lyra took advantage of his head down and unfocused thoughts to decisively rush over and forcefully lift up his cuffs with deft force, revealing a small half of his strong, but scarred arms.

Lyra was stunned at the sight of more than one wound on his arm.

And each swelling marks, which had smooth and flush edges, were absolutely impossible to be burned.

"How did it hurt so badly ... Who did this hit? You tell me!" He was totally unable to hide it. Malcolm sighed helplessly, "Rara, you calm down." "You suddenly and inexplicably are injured like this. How do you let me calm down? Say it! Who did it!" Malcolm didn't strike up a conversation.

Lyra was on the verge of an emotional outburst.

Her husband, who was in love with her every day, was the patriarch of the White family and the boss of National Investigation Bureau in Suham, had suffered such a serious flesh wound behind her back, so how can she not be angry? Her eyes were watery, and suddenly another key point came to mind.

His right arm was injured like this. What about the rest of the body? What kind of injuries will it cause? She sat up and pulled Malcolm's suit, "Let me see if you're hurt anywhere else." "Rara ..." Malcolm had not slept well for three days in a row. Over the past these days he was up early, and beaten. Last night in order to survive that special swelling medicine, he was exhausted all his strength.

Now his face was paler and the body was very weak.

In contrast, with the infusion last night and after a full night's rest, plus with her emotional anger, Lyra's force was much greater than Malcolm's.

She undid Malcolm's tie and ripped the buttons off his shirt.

There should be fair and delicate chest and abdominal muscles, but were crisscrossed with injuries.

Lyra's heart ached as she watched, and her chest felt as if it was being pinched tight, making it difficult to breathe.

Looking at Malcolm's hideous and horrific scars, she suddenly got a nerve headache.

When she closed eyes, the image of Malcolm standing in front of her, being beaten under his belt and holding back, suddenly flashed in her mind.

Why did these fragmented image appear in her mind? That beating ... could it be her? She raised her watery eyes and stared at Malcolm incredulously, "Mel, these bruises, did | do this? Did | do this to you?" Malcolm saw her hard and his eyes turned red as well, "Rara, don't be sad first. | can explain.” To explain was to make excuses.

No rebuttal meant it was true.

She laughed lightly like a self-deprecating laugh. Malcolm would never let a second person touch a finger of his besides her.

These injuries were actually caused by her ...

"I'm sorry." She shook her hand to reach his chest's broken skin where there were purple wounds, but because of his skin was covered with wounds, her hand stopped.

"How can | hurt you like this. How can ..." Tears fell uncontrollably, and she stared in defeat and shock at his injuries.

Malcolm's broad palm caressed her cheek and gently wiped away the teardrops, "It's not your fault. Rara you are just sick. I'm really not in any pain. It's just superficial wounds. It looks scary, but it's not really damaging, really.” "Don't you coax me. | have eyes. | can see." She sniffled and asked again, "What disease do | have?" "Mania." Lyra lowered her head grimly, contemplating the disorder.

Malcolm grabbed her hand and explained seriously, "In the end, it's still me. If it wasn't for my poor measures, you wouldn't have gotten pregnant with the babies, let alone travel all the way to European Swye for my illness. The reason you got this disease is basically a factor related to me, so Rara, | let you vent out on me. Don't need to feel guilty.” It was a lie to say that she didn't feel guilty. How could Lyra not know that his words were all comforting.

Malcolm softened his voice and kept wiping her tears, "My good babe, don't cry, okay? It breaks my heart to see you sad." Lyra suppressed her mourning, calmed herself down and said in a serious manner, "There are not light injuries. You have to apply medicine every day to heal quickly. Have you applied the medicine today?" Malcolm shook his head.

"Then go get the ointment and I'll put it on you." Malcolm: "No, it's really no big deal. It's too much trouble." Lyra explained with a straight face, "I have to make up for the fact that | hurt you like this, so let me help you with the medicine.

Otherwise I'll be suffocating.” Seeing that she took it pretty well and didn't have any extreme ideas, Malcolm was briefly relieved and compromised.

"Okay, then you have the porridge first. I'll get the ointment and come up soon." Lyra nodded in silence.

While waiting for Malcolm to return, she held her bowl of porridge and casually took a few bites, coping with little appetite.

When Malcolm entered the room again, he was quickly relieved to see her eating, "Rara, you can eat first. Finish this whole bowl of porridge, and then help me with the medicine, okay?" "Great." As a patient with a known condition, she did need the supplement to have sufficient strength to fight the disease.

But, being depressed and unable to eat more, she barely ate half a bowl.

Malcolm did not force her, and when he saw that she really could not eat, he obediently took off his clothes.

Lyra gazed at him and added, "Take it all off." To be naked so that she can check.

Malcolm froze and obeyed, taking off his suit and shirt and immediately unbuckling his belt.

The fact that Lyra was still emotionally stable after learning of her condition was already his greatest relief.

This was a small request that should not be a big problem.

But he neglected to mention how appalling the injuries on his body were.

Lyra originally thought she was mentally prepared, but when she saw his back, new wounds and old scars overlapping, she couldn't help but once again her eyes were reddened.

The back, because he could apply the medicine himself, had the most serious injuries, and healing was also slow. Those deep red and purple swollen wounds and even the bleeding injuries burned her eyes.

She told Malcolm to lie down on the bed, fought back tears and helped him apply the medicine.

When she had mania, she lost consciousness and didn't remember anything at all.

If not for these injuries on Malcolm's body were too shocking, she was afraid she can not think of a few images.

She was too threatened to know when the onset will occur and what she will do to vent when it did.

She was such a morbid person. If she was staying by Malcolm's side, it will only continue to hurt him.

After hesitating and thinking for a long time, she finally gathered the courage to say, "Malcolm, or ... can we divorce?"