From His Invisible Wife to the World's Icon novel Chapter 164

The instant the door gave way, Xavier's towering figure surged forward. His cold hand clamped around her wrist, hauling her securely against his chest.

The door slammed violently into the wall with a deafening crash.

Startled, Lydia gripped his sleeve and ducked behind him for cover.

Peeking past his broad shoulders, she spotted Wesley blocking a tidal wave of reporters.

Camera flashes strobed relentlessly in the hallway.

She shrank back, her fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of Xavier's suit jacket.

The heavy thud of over a dozen footsteps approached.

"Members of the press, please calm down and show some respect for the grieving family," Wesley's voice rang out.

His words were swiftly followed by the sharp click of the door closing, plunging the room back into silence.

She cautiously peeked out again. Seeing the door shut, she exhaled a breath of relief, only to realize how intimately she was plastered against Xavier. Blushing, she quickly stepped back.

"Mr. Ford?" Feeling completely trapped, she looked to him for a way out.

He turned, looking down at her with a chillingly impassive gaze.

"I... I have a flight to catch. Can you find a way to get me out of here?" she whispered, glancing nervously at the door where muffled shouting continued.

"A flight?"

"Ms. Sterling, you can't leave," Wesley interjected smoothly from the doorway.

"According to the contract, you are required to attend the funeral as Mr. Ford's fiancée—and now, wife—so that the old lady may rest in peace." He pulled out the agreement, flipped to the third page, and handed it to her.

Stunned, Lydia scanned the document. It was right there in black and white. She looked up at Xavier. "I didn't read the fine print. I didn't know this was part of the deal."

Meeting his icy stare, she desperately tried to explain. "I truly want to pay my respects, but I have to leave right now."

Instinctively grabbing his sleeve, she pleaded, "Let me go, please?"

"Your reason?"

His tone was frigid, his eyes dropping to her pale fingers gripping his dark jacket.

Lydia hadn't planned on exposing her rawest wounds to anyone, but knowing she was breaching their contract left her no choice. "Mr. Ford, my husband..."

The moment the word slipped out, his brow furrowed in severe displeasure.

Wesley tapped a screen, pulling up the latest news feed.

Her sudden exit from the press conference had sparked endless rumors. The media concluded that Frederick's guilt was undeniable and she had fled out of sheer devastation.

"Ms. Sterling, are you really willing to break your promise for a man like that? Is he worth it?" Wesley asked.

Clearly, Wesley believed Frederick was guilty too.

But all Lydia could see was a young Frederick shielding her from Arthur's brutal beatings. "You don't understand. He's not that kind of person. He would never do something like this."

The fabric was yanked from her grip.

Xavier took a step back, severing the connection.

She looked up into his fathomless eyes and shuddered. His stare was absolute zero, projecting an aura cold enough to freeze hell over.

A strange sensation crept over her.

"Don't say a word. Just wait," Xavier instructed.

She nodded obediently.

He was a man of immense power; she just needed to follow his lead.

As she slipped the mask on, his warm fingers wrapped firmly around hers.

He guided her hand to rest in the crook of his arm.

She clung to him tightly.

Wesley threw the doors open, and a blinding barrage of camera flashes hit them instantly.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

Sensing her panic, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She glanced up at his profile. He had completely masked his predatory aura, answering the reporters' rapid-fire questions with calm, elegant grace.

She was wearing a breathtaking, minimalist white gown—a custom bridal piece from a top designer. It fit her flawlessly.

Looking at the silver tie clip against his dark suit, it struck her that his attire wasn't just suitable for a funeral. He looked exactly like a groom.

Standing together, they looked like a perfect match.

"One last question," Wesley announced.

"Mr. Ford, apologies for the timing, but when do you plan on hosting the wedding? Will you be officially announcing your wife's identity then?"