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Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Immortal Husband

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 722    |    Released on: 21/09/2026

e Goodw

lly at the entrance of the Dusk Mist Harbor

f for the possibility that the

immaculately maintained black SUV

ary-style black jacket, but it still coul

ancient silver signet ring (a sunstone signet ring, used to w

ked straight into the town hall and b

rify both parties' occupa

howed that he was employed by "Polaris Air Ca

mind disappeared: a cargo captain with irregular hours who oft

d, tired, and somewhat unsociable air

s handwriting was ancient and ornate, somewhat i

e the pen, our fingers

instinctively and asked with concern whethe

then replied mildly, "An old problem-a

ess. Ten minutes later, we walked out of the hall w

ut a long sigh of relief. The inheritance was

. As agreed, we won't interfere in each other's lives. If y

and go straight to the law office

ped me, handing me a set of brass keys

il said in a low voice. "If you keep living in your old apartmen

. My uncle was a petty man who would

s-and-wood cabin. Usually I'm the only one who lives there. For the next

It's very quiet, suitable for your antique restoration wor

as ice, his eyes held none of the repulsi

omewhat heavy in my palm. "All ri

deeply, as if he wanted to engrave me i

the street, tightened my grip on the keys,

Sweene

yes immediately and respectfully hande

at City Hall, when I smelled the blood fragrance emanati

mmediately clear all hidden guards from around the glass-and-wood

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Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Immortal Husband
Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Immortal Husband
“I entered a contractual marriage with Cyril Sweeney just to protect my antique restoration studio from local developers. I thought he was merely an eccentric, wealthy cargo pilot, but I soon realized I had married a monster. His skin was colder than ice, he could throw a grown man across a room effortlessly, and strangers in tailored suits dropped to their knees calling him "My Lord." But the most agonizing part was his violent rejection of me. Whenever I got close, or accidentally scraped my skin and bled, he would shove me away like I was a plague. His glacial eyes would turn pitch black, his throat convulsing as if fighting a demon. "Run before I kill you!" He roared at me with a feral, terrifying rasp, his hands clawing at his own throat. The final straw came when I found an antique pocket watch on his desk, holding a faded photograph of a young girl. I realized I wasn't a wife; I was just a convenient, nameless replacement for a ghost he still carried over his dead heart. I didn't understand why he looked at me with such desperate agony, nor why my blood drove him to the brink of madness. I didn't know the girl in the photograph was actually me from ten years ago. As I slammed my truck into reverse to escape his haunted glass villa, I had no idea the real nightmare was just beginning.”