From His Invisible Wife to the World's Icon novel Chapter 167

Lydia nodded in understanding.

"If you two could share a passionate kiss on camera, that would seal the deal," he added casually.

Lydia scowled, opening her mouth to refuse.

"Absolutely not!"

Sierra burst into the room. "I forbid it."

"Who do you think you are to forbid anything?" Charles shot back, his face darkening.

Flushing bright red, Sierra shot a desperate look at Frederick.

Lydia heard Frederick interject coolly, "Cancel the kiss."

Both Lydia and Sierra silently let out a breath of relief.

Once Frederick changed back into a bespoke suit, he stepped out and casually tossed his tie into Lydia's hands.

"Perfect timing. Let's get some intimate behind-the-scenes shots, Mrs. Foster," Saul directed.

Reluctantly, Lydia stood up with the silk tie.

Even in heels, she barely reached five-foot-seven, whereas Frederick stood well over six-foot-two.

As she went on her tiptoes to loop the tie, he suddenly leaned in, his nose lightly brushing hers.

Startled, she tried to step back, but his strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

She shoved at his chest, but Saul's voice cut in. "Perfect. Hold that pose."

"Keep taking pictures."

Gritting her teeth, her slender fingers moved rapidly to knot the tie before he finally let her go.

At eight sharp, Frederick intertwined his fingers with hers, and they stepped out of the precinct.

A mob of Western and domestic reporters was already swarming the steps.

They flawlessly executed the rehearsed Q&A.

Suddenly, a group of protestors crashed the scene, holding up gruesome posters of a blonde woman covered in horrific bruises.

"She's sharp. She even gave me a few critical leads."

"She cares deeply about you. Drop the icy act and start treating her properly."

Before heading to the estate, Charles had ordered his guards to drag Sierra straight to the airport.

Sierra was the only poison in their marriage. Without her interference, Lydia would surely come around.

Frederick offered a noncommittal hum. Tossing his files onto the table, he followed Lydia's path upstairs.

He strolled into the third-floor master suite just as she stepped into the bathroom with a robe. He leaned against the wall, silently tracing her silhouette through the frosted glass.

He had watched the live stream of the press conference in the holding cell.

She had defended him tooth and nail.

If he hadn't known she only married him to destroy the Suttons, he might have believed she actually cared.

He was almost fooled again.

A dark, dangerous hunger flared in Frederick's eyes as he recalled the unfinished business from the night before his arrest. He reached out and wrapped his hand around the bathroom doorknob.