CHAPTER 137: CHAPTER 137: "I’M WILLING TO GIVE—ARE YOU WILLING TO TAKE?

The bathroom was filled with steam, and the sound of rushing water poured down from above.

The mist-shrouded white porcelain walls reflected two silhouettes—one with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, strong and muscular, the other delicate and graceful, petite and fragile.

Sleek, elongated hands moved over the shadowed contours, fingers flying, performing a silent shadow puppetry.

"Don’t hold back, let it out."

Renee bit her lip and kept silent, prepared to resist no matter what.

A calloused fingertip pinched harshly, and thin, sharp lips pressed against her ear, the man’s voice hoarse with tension: "Be good, don’t resist."

Renee turned her head to bite his taut arm, biting with all her strength until she drew blood, the metallic taste filling her mouth, making her so nauseated she wanted to vomit, before she finally released her grip.

Tears mixed with the hot water flowed down, reaching the corners of her mouth. The blend of tears and blood was both metallic and salty, making her feel even more nauseous.

With a retch, she lowered her head and made a gagging sound.

Jack Yates was completely enraged, suddenly gripping her face, his fingers pinching her chin as he stared at her with fierce eyes: "Do you find me disgusting?"

Renee took a deep breath and replied coldly, "Disgusting or not, don’t you know yourself?"

"Ha." A low, short laugh rolled from his throat, carrying a sharp chill.

Renee once again endured Jack Yates’s long-suppressed anger, being carried out of the bathroom like a dough kneaded to its limit, soft without a trace of pride, not even leaving any vitality.

Jack Yates placed her on the soft and luxurious hotel bed, randomly pulling the quilt over her, and in a bathrobe, went out to the balcony to smoke.

Holding a foreign cigarette he disliked between his long fingers, Jack Yates disdainfully smoked half before flicking the butt to the ground and stomped on it hard with his foot.

The cigarette butt extinguished, the tobacco crushed.

He opened his mouth to exhale a thick white cloud of smoke, turned back inside, and called Kyle Sheffield.

"Tell Anson to meet at this hotel in half an hour."

Kyle Sheffield: "Alright, I’ll arrange it now."

Jack Yates put down the phone, strode over to the bed, and leaned down with one hand on the edge,

looking at Renee’s tightly shut, broken expression, Jack Yates felt a dull pain in his heart; he had indeed gone too far earlier, he shouldn’t have done that.

He lifted one hand to gently caress her face, long fingers brushing the reddened corners of her eyes, tracing down her elegant nose, finally resting on her lips, his thumb softly rubbing her pursed lips.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked softly.

They had been together for over a year, had numerous times, and given it had just happened in the bathroom, such a question shouldn’t have been asked.

But this time was different from before; previously, Jack Yates’s anger would at most go to that extent, but this time he not only went completely overboard, he also forcefully took the back door as if mad.

Receiving no response, Jack Yates wasn’t angry, instead turning to get the anti-inflammatory medication he had prepared, lifting the quilt to tend to her wounds.

With his long index finger, he gently spread the white ointment, his fingertip ensuring it was absorbed, helping her recover faster.

Renee opened her eyes, her voice hoarse from screaming: "I can’t get pregnant now, if I do, I won’t live."

The man’s fingers paused, his fingertips suddenly sinking deeper.

Renee furrowed her brow slightly, tightly pressing her lips together.

A low laugh emanated from the bedside, deep and hoarse.

"Threatening me, hmm?" Jack Yates grasped her face with his medicated hand, speaking with a hint of a smirk, "After being with me for so long, can’t you see I respond better to gentleness rather than force?"

Renee struggled against the grief: "I have no choice, you’re forcing me."

Jack Yates chuckled: "What do you mean you have no choice? Tell me, what would give you a choice? Hmm?"

Renee sat up abruptly, moving too sharply, triggering the pain below which made her inhale sharply.

Leaning against the bed, she looked at Jack Yates with clear, bright eyes: "Never mind that I haven’t graduated yet and can’t have a child temporarily, even if I had graduated, tell me, Mr. Yates, in what capacity would I bear a child for you?"

Jack Yates’s lips twitched, a flirtatious smile spreading in his eyes, placing both hands on either side of her, leaning down, his lips brushing her face, whispering in her ear: "Renee, as long as you’re willing, identity is not a problem. I’m willing to give, are you willing to receive?"

-

At the five-star hotel by The Meonan Riverbank, in the second-floor conference hall.

Jack Yates, in a well-tailored black bespoke suit, walked in, extending his hand with a smile: "Apologies for being late, General Montgomery, please forgive me."

Montgomery is Anson’s surname, his full name is Anson Monroe.

Anson shook hands with Jack Yates, smiling as he replied in Cathan: "Mr. Yates is too polite, it was us who startled you today; I should’ve offered you hospitality at my place to calm your nerves, but thinking of how tired you must be from the journey, I had to come here to apologize."

Jack Yates wasn’t surprised that Anson spoke Cathan so fluently, having already looked into Anson’s background before their cooperation.

Anson’s grandmother was Celestrian, a daughter from an official family during the Republican era, who fled here during the chaos and became a concubine to Anson’s grandfather, bearing Anson’s father.

After Anson’s grandfather’s official wife passed away, Anson’s grandmother was elevated to the position of the official wife.

Later, Anson’s father married a Cathan-Thai woman, which is why Anson speaks fluent Cathan.

The two took their seats as host and guest, Jack Yates lit a cigarette, lightly tapping the mahogany table with his fingers, speaking with a faint smile.

"I really didn’t expect that General Montgomery, a dignified brigadier general, couldn’t even deal with a scumbag drug dealer."

This was a harsh statement, equivalent to giving Anson a resounding slap in the face, echoing loudly.

Anson, under the scorn, felt humiliated, but dared not voice any resentment, still having to smile and apologize: "Mr. Yates, please don’t be angry, this was indeed my oversight."

Jack Yates’s lips curled coldly: "General Montgomery’s grandmother was one of our Celestrians, a civil service family lady fortified with education and culture, surely General Montgomery is familiar with the stories of The Warlord Envoy."

As he spoke, the man’s sharp, thick black brows lifted, and with his slender fingers drumming the table, he smiled coldly and evilly, with an expression both arrogant and fierce: "If today I were to die here, have you considered the consequences?"