The anger gradually receded, and the jealousy that almost burnt away his rational thinking slowly extinguished.
The briefly uncontrolled emotions slowly calmed down, Scarlett Yates' sobs rang in his ears, full of sadness, pain, despair, disappointment, and fear of him.
Maxwell Saxon suddenly felt very sad.
His heart was as bitter as if he had swallowed a large bowl of gall juice, the entire heart soaked in bitterness, making him want to cry.
He felt the pain akin to thousands of needle pricks.
Those long thin needles, shimmering with cold light, stabbed his heart fiercely, one by one.
He seemingly saw his heart bleeding, bright red blood flowing from the wounds, quickly making his heart drenched in blood.
Could he really not care about her heart, did he actually want her to hate him forever?
If he couldn't have her heart, but just her body, would he really be indifferent?
The answer was no; how could he truly not care?
