When she returned home, it was already afternoon, and what she didn't expect was that Lei Changhao was actually at home. As soon as she entered the bedroom, she smelled a pungent smell of alcohol.

A hint of foreboding immediately enveloped her, and at the same time, a feeling of unease gripped her tightly. Still, she pretended to be calm and walked over to the dresser and put her bag down.

She pulled open the drawer and pulled out her jewelry box to see how much jewelry was inside. Suddenly, a large hand was placed on the back of her hand, and she looked up in surprise to see that his cheekbones were flushed with his white face, and she said to her a little slurred, "Why did you come back so late?"

"Didn't I say I'd stay there for dinner? They were very welcoming to me, so I stayed a little longer. She squeezed a smile into her lips and said, her heart full of sourness and desolation.

"Will they be so nice?" he smiled, tossed the bottle of wine in his hand to the ground, and before she could react, he picked her up and threw her on the bed, and his body pressed against him.

"Don't!" she looked out the window at the clear sky, her face turning slightly pale.

He ripped off her kerchief and reached into her collar to caress the back of her neck.

She saw the pain in his eyes. What happened to him today?

"Do you have the right to say no? You're the wife I bought for 20 million, no, it's just a tool. Who are you to refuse me?" he buried his head in her chest.

"Don't touch me!" she suddenly pushed him away with a burst of courage from nowhere. She couldn't stand him asking for her anytime and anywhere, she couldn't stand him asking her roughly, and every time she did, she felt that she was no different from those young ladies who sold herself, except that she was only sold to a man.

He didn't watch out for a moment, and was almost pushed out of bed by her, he staggered back a few steps, and finally came across something that he could support, and barely stood still.

"You dare to refuse me?" his eyes were dark and misty, gloomy and deep. She stared into his eyes with a creepy feeling. She curled up on the bed, her fingertips suddenly touching something hard and cold.

She subconsciously pulled it out and looked at it, and immediately held her breath. It was his father's last photo, how could it be in their bed?' her fingertips retracted spasmodically, but her eyes were locked on the lingering photograph of the warm liquid that remained on it.

He lunged forward again, this time squeezing her chin hard, and she saw the flames of anger in his eyes.

"Why are you like your sister, why are you so resistant to me?" his two thick eyebrows were knotted together, and his face became rather gloomy and ugly. His lips ran over her earlobe, and he bit her out of surprise. She closed her eyes in despair, feeling that today, like those days before, she couldn't hide and she couldn't escape.

"It's your father's funeral, why don't you go?" she said.

The weight on her body was gone, and the touch of that moist lips was gone. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with a scorching gaze, a sword blade shining from his long, dark eyes.

"Why should I go? You give me a reason! I hate him to death, I once swore at my mother's sickbed that I would not shed a single tear at his grave. His pupils were cloudy, and his eyes were dark and shining.

"But there are your tears on this frame, and you still miss your father very much!" her voice was like a sharp knife piercing his heart.

"Shut up, shut up for me!" his furious, twinkling eyes shone in the light, and then he ripped off her shoulder straps and entered her at once.