Chasing My Pregnant Wife

"Your car is over there. Take everything out of it and drive it into the river."

Rosalie understood the severity of the situation. If she didn't do as he said, she might get dragged into this, and the police would eventually find out what happened here. This man was rather meticulous.

Rosalie got out of the car.

Her movements were swift. She took her phone and wallet from the car, then started the engine and put it into slow gear. Immediately after, she got out of the car.

The car slowly rolled toward the river and eventually disappeared.

By the river, there was a warning sign indicating that the water was deep and swimming was prohibited, with consequences at one's own risk.

After completing all of this, Rosalie got back into the SUV, sat in the driver's seat, and fastened her seatbelt.

"Go straight for about 1.2 miles and then make a right," the man instructed.

"Got it."

Rosalie glanced in the rearview mirror. The man was lying in the back seat, covered in blood. She was deeply worried that he wouldn't last the journey.

"Who exactly are you?" Rosalie wanted to talk to him, afraid that he might lose consciousness.

"I'm not a good person. The less you know, the better." Vincent pulled out a first aid kit from a hidden compartment in the back seat. Inside were bandages. He took off his shirt, revealing his well-built muscles, and wrapped the bandage around his wounds to stop the bleeding.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Through the rearview mirror, Rosalie saw that his body was covered in scars.

"I hear a Briusian accent. Are you from Briusia?" Rosalie had been speaking Briusian with him all this while.

"Are you investigating my background?" Vincent suddenly spoke to her in Toscanian.

Rosalie was startled. "You speak Toscanian? Then let's just converse in Toscanian."

Although her Briusian was good, it wasn't her native language. She wasn't as fluent in it as she was in Toscanian.

The man's Toscanian was great, like that of a news anchor-clear and pleasant to the ear.

Vincent pressed on his wound, his brows slightly furrowed. "Just focus on driving. I won't pass out."

He had survived injuries far worse than this, so this was nothing. He understood that she was trying to keep him awake, but he didn't want to reveal too much about himself. Knowing too much wouldn't benefit her

Rosalie didn't say anything more. Her expression turned serious as she continued to drive.

Along the way, Vincent didn't lose consciousness as promised. He stayed alert, giving her directions on which roads to take.

Later, Vincent took out a bottle of pills and swallowed a few.

Rosalie didn't know what kind of medicine it was, but after taking it, he seemed to gain a bit more strength, though he still looked pale.

Finally, Rosalie drove the car to a secluded area. It was a remote neighborhood with very few houses. The ones that were there were spaced far apart, and most appeared to be uninhabited.

"This is the place. Drive inside."

"Okay."

Rosalie drove the car into the

courtyard, and the heavy gate slowly closed behind them. She helped Vincent out of the car and into the house. With a thud, she placed Vincent down on the sofa.

Next to this tall man, she seemed even more delicate. As she placed him down, she lost her balance and fell into his arms with a soft thud.

Fearing she had pressed on his wound, she hurried to get up, but suddenly noticed that the man was gazing deeply at her.

Following his gaze downward, Rosalie was startled to find that her torn blouse was still wide open. Her chest was barely covered.

Things had been so urgent earlier

that she had completely overlooked it. She frantically tried to pull her clothes together, attempting to button them up, but the

fallen off when it was Jozet

had

The moment she let go, the blouse gaped open again.