<h4>Chapter 200: Chapter 200: I Will Handle It Myself</h4>


    --


    Unsure if it’s Scarlett Yates’s psychological effect.


    After rinsing her mouth five times and brushing her teeth until they felt sore, the lingering scent between her lips and teeth still remained.


    Faint and subtle, impossible to dissipate.


    She seemed to be cursed.


    Whenever she closed her eyes, uncontroble images appeared in her mind.


    "How can this happen..." Scarlett Yates cradled her burning face, sitting dazedly on the sofa, her expression confused and bewildered.


    Why had it turned out like this...


    Why did that scene keep reying in her mind?


    Why did something she clearly didn’t want to remember keep recurring uncontrobly in her head.


    She was about to go mad!


    She loathed his frivolousness and carelessness, hated how he treated her as a disposable woman, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about his excessive actions toward her.


    What was wrong with her? Why had she be so strange?


    Scarlett Yates had never felt so flustered; after pondering for a long time, she couldn’t make any sense of it.


    She felt she was sick, suffering from some strange illness, which made her act so bizarrely.


    It was already four-thirty in the morning.


    Yet Scarlett Yates wasn’t sleepy at all; after finishing her wash-up, shey on the sofa counting sheep.


    She counted a whole bunch of sheep, but her mind was stillpletely alert.


    Perhaps beset by a demon’s spell, she sat on the sofa in a stupor for a while before suddenly rising and heading to the bedroom.


    Just as she couldn’t control her mind, she couldn’t control her actions at that moment.


    Deep down, a voice told her to be rational, not to act foolish and confused, but she still walked step by step to the room where Matthew Saxon was.


    Hesitating for just three or four seconds, not yet clear about her intentions, her hand already reached the door.


    Just as she was about to knock, the door suddenly opened.


    Scarlett Yates froze, her hand still mid-air, seeing Matthew Saxon standing at the doorway, looking at her expressionlessly.


    He had changed into a robe.


    A deep blue silk robe, casually tied at the waist, generously revealing his alluring chest.


    Scarlett Yates’s gaze collided with his deep, ocean-like dark eyes, and after locking eyes for a few seconds, her heart skipped several beats.


    That strange, uncontroble feeling arose again.


    When she couldn’t see him, he upied her thoughts, but now standing before her, she was timid and wanted to leave.


    "What is it?" Matthew Saxon looked down at her with a lofty demeanor, his voice indifferent, devoid of emotion.


    "I..."


    Scarlett Yates was momentarily at a loss.


    She didn’t really know what she wanted.


    As if possessed, she seemed enticed by something.


    Everything about tonight had been abnormal; she concluded she probably had gone crazy.


    She feared making eye contact with him, keeping her head down, her voice low and soft, like a mosquito’s buzz, "Well, um, I’m, I’m here to ask how your, your wound is?"


    Scarlett Yates had never felt it was so difficult to say a sentence.


    Every word was so challenging, finally piecing together into aplete sentence.


    "Just a minor injury, won’t die from it, I can handle it myself." A lukewarm tone, indifferent yet carried a hint of sarcasm.