From His Invisible Wife to the World's Icon novel Chapter 165

Xavier suddenly looked down at her, his eyes softening as if gazing at his beloved.

Her breath hitched as he murmured, "Yes, whenever she's ready."

It sounded like an answer for the press, but felt entirely meant for her.

Her heart skipped a beat before reality set in—it was just a perfect PR spin.

"Alright everyone, Mr. and Mrs. Ford have family matters to attend to. That's all for today," Wesley concluded.

But the relentless crowd refused to budge, pushing forward for more pictures.

Wesley signaled the security team to forcefully clear a path.

Xavier ushered her through the mob.

Once the elevator doors slid shut, she went to pull her hand away, only for him to release her immediately.

They rode down to the underground garage in complete silence.

Wesley arrived, slightly out of breath. "Boss, the main exit is swarming with paparazzi."

Whether as Mrs. Foster or Mrs. Ford, she couldn't afford to be caught. She looked to Xavier anxiously.

When he remained unfazed, she grabbed his arm in a panic.

He finally gave an order. "Take two cars."

Dropping her hand, she followed him into the back of a sleek Lincoln.

A decoy Bentley sped out first, drawing the entire media frenzy with it.

Their Lincoln slipped quietly out the opposite exit.

Lydia's phone buzzed yet again. She hurriedly answered it.

"Lydia, where did you run off to?"

She thought on her feet. "I had to grab my passport."

"Call Charles immediately. He's furious," Madeline urged.

"Okay."

She hung up and instantly dialed Harrison. "Harrison, can you bring my passport to the private airstrip?"

"There's no time, we'll talk later."

She ended the call.

Seeing an incoming call from Charles, she picked up and offered a firm reassurance, "I'm almost there."

The drive was smooth until they neared the private helipad.

A massive crowd blocked the entrance. Reporters, livestreamers, and even overhead drones were scanning the area.

Shocked, she rolled the window up and turned to Xavier. "Just drop me here. I'll make a run for it."

The Lincoln slowly pulled over to the curb.

Her phone vibrated—Charles again.

Panicking, she gripped the door handle.

A strong hand seized her wrist. Pulled back by his grip, she spun around, her eyes widening. "What is it?"

His gaze was cool, his tone edged with irritation. "Change your dress."

She looked down at the bridal gown and gasped. If anyone caught her in this, the entire charade would collapse.

Horrified that he might think she was trying to trap him, she grabbed his retreating arm. "Please don't misunderstand, I wasn't trying to wear this outside on purpose. I was just so anxious I forgot."

She couldn't let him think she was scheming against him.

She didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

He released her abruptly and reached for the door handle.

Realizing he was about to step outside into the media circus.

She grabbed his arm, meeting his irritated scowl. "There are drones out there. They'll catch you."

He stared at her, a profound look of exasperation crossing his face. "What exactly do you want?"

Flushing bright red, she handed him her face mask. "Can you... wear this over your eyes?"

He snatched it wordlessly and snapped it over his eyes.

With the upper half of his face obscured, his sharp jawline and perfectly sculpted lips were agonizingly highlighted.

Her pulse skipped a beat at the sight. Tearing her eyes away, she hurriedly stripped off the bridal gown and shimmied into her pants and long-sleeved shirt.

It was only then she realized Gable had packed an outfit that Xavier had actually gifted her.

Folding the white dress onto the seat, she pulled the mask off his face. "Thank you, Mr. Ford. I'm going now."

As she turned, he seized her wrist.

Her heart leaped as he drew her hand closer, his fingers deftly sliding the silver wedding band off her ring finger.

He missed nothing.

When she tried to pull away, his grip only tightened.

She looked into his dead-calm eyes, shivering as he delivered a ruthless ultimatum. "If you are not back in eleven days, our contract is void."

His cold fingers somehow sent a scorching heat through her veins. A jolt of recognition struck her—his eyes looked incredibly familiar.

A fragmented memory surfaced: the dark gaze she had seen through a drunken haze that night.