All Chapters of My Husband Hates Me: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

Dorothy glared at Rosalie. Before Rosalie could react, Dorothy took the dagger on the tea table and held Rosalie's shoulder tightly with one hand, and pointed the dagger at her delicate neck with the other. She sneered at the man who was striding in. She sneered at the man who was striding in, "Credence, let me go, or the two of us will die here." The dagger was small, but sharp. Under the bright crystal lamp, it emitted a dazzling light. Dorothy waited for three seconds. Without waiting for Credence's reply, she made up her mind. She ignored Rosalie's pale face and trembling lips, immediately piercing the dagger into her neck without hesitation. "Ah!" Rosalie felt so much pain that she trembled violently. She turned her head around and glared at Dorothy with hatred, so furious that she gnashed her teeth. "This f*cking b*tch, we agreed it would just be a show," she cursed in her heart. Who knew that she was really taking things this far. "Just

Credence still remained silent even after a full minute, and his entire body was surrounded by an aura that was so cold that it made everyone around him feel extremely scared. Rosalie grew so scared that she trembled, not daring to make another sound. She endured the pain in her body and her face slowly turned pale as it alternated between paleness and horror. She was horrified! "Credence... I'm sorry. I couldn't save Dorothy. It's all my fault. It doesn't matter how you punish me anymore." Tears streamed out of Rosalie's eyes. She reached her hand out towards the cold and motionless man in front of her, her cold fingertips touching his arms. Veins bulged out of his skin and every single one of his movements intoxicated and infatuated her. "Let go of me." Credence's face was freezing cold. When he felt the soft touch on his arm, he immediately shook it off angrily. He lightly gave her a cold smile as he said, "I followed you and saw everything clearl

Rosalie was in too much pain, but she dared not make a sound. She curled up at the foot of the bed, her delicate face pale as her lips trembled. "Credence, do you still blame me for not saving Dorothy? I'm sorry, it's all my fault. I don't blame you for bankrupting the Fisher family. I won't blame you for kicking me, either. But... could you please tell me the reason?" "Even if you want to sentence me to death, you still have to let me know what I've done wrong." Credence looked down at her from high above. His cold voice trembled a little as he let out a smile. "After my car accident, there may have been some blood clot on my brain nerves suppressing it, but I didn't lose my memories! The only reason I've selectively lost my memories is because of your actions, right?" "Six years ago, you kept framing Dorothy. You plotted against your own sister that grew up with you. You were also the one who caused my father to end up in a coma. Six years later, in order to s

It was the 22nd day of Dorothy's disappearance and the night was darker than the depths of the ocean. The man behind the desk was silent as he read the pile of urgent documents. However, after reading it for a while, he started to smoke in irritation again. He could not understand why his feelings of guilt and longing for her had increased more and more every day, despite only regaining a little of his missing memories. When it was daytime, he had an incredible amount of affairs to deal with in the company, and he got so busy that he could not think of anything else for the time being. However, at the dead of night, when it was deathly silent, he missed her so much that he could not sleep at all. Thus, he kept on tossing and turning on his bed. If only he had given her more trust, then they would have never ended up in such a situation. She was most probably dead, and he felt a strong sense of regret and pain. He could not climb out of this.

Hearing the light and elegant footsteps heading to the door of the surveillance room, Jeremy turned around and went out. He blocked the way of a well-preserved middle-aged noble woman. He looked at his mother, Ysabelle Chilton, who had never smiled at him, and he beamed at her, a grin that was laced with frost. He kept a distance from her and asked, "What do you want?" Ysabelle looked delicate and seemed to be mixed-race. Her eyes were blacker than ink, her nose tall, and her skin fairer than snow. However, none of that could cover the trace of anger in her eyes. She was a woman who was close to fifty years old, but she still looked like she was in her thirties. She could easily stun any man who came into contact with her. "I heard that you brought a woman back to my hospital, so I came to see her." Ysabelle did not pay Jeremy's indifference any attention. She swept her sharp eyes over to the woman lying on the operating table. The woman's face was pale, b