Remarried Wife: Mr. Ex, We Will Never Reconcile! Chapter 39: Nina Sullivan: That Man Is Your Husband

In the bedroom, Ian sat at the edge of the bed with Vera’s foot resting on his leg, her ankle wrapped in a heated herbal pack.

It was almost 11 o’clock. Vera gently suggested that he go back to his room to rest, as he had work the next day.

Ian was unhurried. He helped her remove the herbal pack and, after standing up, adjusted her pillow.

Just as Vera lay down, the man in a deep blue silk robe suddenly leaned down, aiming to kiss her.

The robe’s belt hung loosely, revealing sinewy muscles and scars. The well-defined abs on his lower abdon were in full view, and Vera’s heart tightened.

Her hands instinctively clenched the sheets. The words "don’t" reached her throat but were swallowed back down, her heart hardening as she closed her eyes, trying her best to cooperate with him.

The beauty on the bed, dressed in a pearl-white silk nightgown, with her parted dark hair falling around her closed eyes, trembling lashes, exuded an aura of restraint. This made Ian want to possess her purity even more.

The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his long fingers slowly untied her robe’s belt...

The silky fabric slowly fell open, revealing a matching slip beneath. Her skin glowed under the silk’s sheen.

Ian’s long fingers slowly reached her shoulder, gently sliding down her robe.

Vera felt his movents, her mind flashing with all sorts of erotic, terrifying images. Every cell in her body trembled, and she held back tightly, gritting her teeth.

Ian could see that she was afraid, that she was holding back. In the past, he might have let her go.

Tonight, he didn’t want to hold back.

He leaned forward, kissing her graceful swan-like neck.

Vera suddenly opened her eyes, eting the naked desire in his. She reached out to push him away, but Ian quickly held her wrists, pinning them to the sides of the pillow.

No!

Vera couldn’t find her voice.

Ian buried his head in the warmth of her neck, his whole body filled with a rush of heat.

At that mont, Vera’s phone vibrated on the nightstand.

Vera abruptly opened her eyes, instinctively relaxing, and pushed against his shoulders, "My phone."

Ian breathed hot breaths against her neck, "Ignore it."

Vera tensed up again, a wave of nausea forcing her to push him away hard, leaning over the bed, "I, I... feel like throwing up..."

Ian frowned in frustration, grabbing the trash can and placing it in front of her.

He picked up the phone, seeing it was Noah calling, his face darkening.

Vera asked, "Who’s calling?"

With a sowhat cold tone, Ian replied, "Noah."

In his presence, Vera took the phone and pressed the speaker, "Senior."

The moonlight tonight is beautiful.

Leaning against the window fra, looking at the bright moon, Noah said, "Vera, the orthopedic specialist I contacted earlier just replied to . You can go see him soday; he should be able to help."

Vera’s eyes lit up, looking at Ian, "Really?"

Ian’s face was extrely gloomy.

Vera didn’t understand.

Noah continued, "Mm, I’ve sent you his business card."

"Okay, thank you, Senior."

After ending the call, she looked at the man with a brooding deanor, "My foot could be treated, aren’t you happy?"

Ian replied, "Of course I’m happy, but what does my wife’s foot injury have to do with Noah? Haven’t I found you all those famous doctors? Does it have to be him worrying?"

Vera fell silent.

Ian tightened his grip on her hand, "In the past, he always ca to support your performances. Now he just can’t bear to see you limping, right?"

A pang hit Vera’s heart, and she said nothing.

Anyone who had seen her dazzling presence on stage would feel sorry for her disability.

Ian kissed the top of her head gently, "Don’t be sad, it’s enough that I don’t mind, right?"

Vera answered with a heavy "Mm."

She beca more proactive about her psychological therapy, but the side effects grew worse. She was tortured by physiological vomiting, nightmares, and even began losing hair...

The next day, he took so ti to bring Vera to see the doctor, and of course, the result was still that it couldn’t be treated.

Before going, Vera was full of hope. After seeing the doctor, she fell back into a mood of disappointnt.

...

That day, Vera was writing a report in her office.

Outside the window, gossip from the cleaners drifted in, "Ms. Sheridan and Mr. Kane are truly affectionate. Can’t wait even in the classroom, but Ms. Sheridan doesn’t seem like such an open person..."

Vera frowned.

The aunt must have mistaken them; it was probably Nina and Quentin Hawthorne again.

For the past few days, Quentin ca to pick Nina up from work every day at the dance troupe.

After a while, she turned off the computer, glancing at her watch. At this ti, Ian should be coming.

Vera left the office to get a speaker from Dance Studio 1.

As soon as she pushed the door open, a peculiar sll hit her, making her instinctively cover her nose as nausea welled up. The next second, she heard a "Yah!"

Nina pulled down her puffy tulle skirt, turning to the doorway to see Vera, her tone cold, "Ms. Sheridan, why didn’t you knock..."

As she spoke, she pulled up her straps.

The girl, with her bare snow-white long legs, had a pair of cream-colored ballet socks hanging on the barre nearby.

Vera’s face darkened, her tone displeased, "What are you doing in my classroom?"

Nina crossed her arms, her chest revealing a deep cleavage, her gaze provocatively teasing, "This classroom is more private. My boyfriend and I just used the barre here... Ms. Sheridan, you understand."

Imagining the scene, Vera felt nauseated, stumbling to the restroom, where she leaned over the sink and threw up.

When Nina followed her, she saw Vera by the sink, in a clearly distressed state.

She looked visibly thinner.

"Ms. Sheridan, you’ve been throwing up a lot lately. Could you be pregnant?" Nina deliberately hit her sore spot.

Vera knew her intentions and didn’t look at her.

Nina continued, "Oh right, you don’t even let Mr. Kane touch you, how could you be pregnant."

Vera took out mouthwash from her bag, rinsing her mouth without acknowledging her.

Nina washed her hands, took out a perfu, and sprayed her long, fair neck.

The scent made Vera feel physiologically averse, so she moved away.

Through the mirror, Nina looked at her, "Ms. Sheridan, what man could endure a sexless marriage? Do you really think Mr. Kane wouldn’t fool around outside?"