From His Invisible Wife to the World's Icon novel Chapter 30

Watching him walk away, Lydia's wrist was suddenly seized by her mother. “Lydia, go after him and bring him back.”

“I still have questions for him.”

“Mom...”

“Go!” Madeline insisted.

She had no choice but to obey.

Leaving her mother with the caregiver, she ran out to the hallway.

They stood at opposite ends of the long corridor.

“Frederick...”

She called out to him.

“Wait.”

His tone toward her was freezing, yet when he addressed Arthur and Frederick, it was noticeably softer. “Arthur, Cecilia, I'll walk you out.”

He was polite and gentle to the Suttons, but completely callous toward her mother.

Why couldn't her mother see it? Why was she still clinging to false hope?

She stood there for a long time. When he still hadn't returned, she decided she didn't want to wait anymore.

As she turned to leave, a large hand suddenly snatched her, slamming her hard against a stone pillar.

“Luke!”

His face was battered and bruised, his wrist wrapped in bandages, looking as if he had just taken a massive beating. He suddenly pinched her chin, a twisted, disgusting smile on his face. “Acting all high and mighty, huh? Too good for me? Tonight, you're going to serve me nicely.”

“Let me go!” She thrashed wildly, but Luke was prepared this time. He pinned her legs with his own, rendering her immobile.

“Frederick beat me half to death and let you walk! Who the hell am I supposed to take that out on?”

Shock jolted her into realization. “Frederick is coming right back! If he catches you doing this, he won't let you off the hook this time!”

To her horror, Luke didn't look scared at all. Instead, he burst out laughing. “Do you still think you're his precious little darling?”

“Why don't you see where your perfect husband really is?” He pinned both of her wrists behind her back with one massive hand, pulled out his phone, and clicked on a video from his social media feed.

In the chaotic footage of a nightclub, Frederick's eyes were lethal as he grabbed a man by the collar, slamming his fist into the guy's face over and over. In the corner of the leather booth, Sierra was crying hysterically, her dress torn to shreds and barely covering her.

It was only the second time she had ever seen Frederick lose control and hit someone. The first time was on their wedding night, when he had beaten Luke.

Luke tossed his phone aside, grabbed her hands, dragged her toward the flowerbeds, and shoved her down, pressing his weight onto her. “Why are you crying? A guy like that isn't worth it. When I grabbed you at the Foster Group earlier, he acted like he didn't even see it.”

“But the second I bumped into Sierra, look what he did to me.”

“Stick with me. I promise I'll treat you right. You'll be living way better than you ever did as Mrs. Foster!”

He reached out to wipe her tears, showing a sickening, twisted form of pity.

She seized the moment, grabbing a handful of damp dirt and flinging it straight into his ugly face. While his eyes stung and his vision blurred, she shoved him off her with all her might.

Before she could scramble away, he grabbed her by the hair. A sharp pain tore at her scalp, followed by his hysterical, venomous screaming. “Lydia, you bitch... if I don't finish you tonight... I'll change my fucking name...”

He yanked her back violently. Losing her balance, she crashed on top of him, and he instantly wrapped his arms around her like a vice.

Tears of sheer terror streamed down her face. Feeling his repulsive hands wandering over her, she frantically blindly searched the ground around them. Just as her blouse was ripped open, her fingers closed over a solid rock.

“You're hurting me like this. Let's go somewhere else?”

She swallowed back the tidal wave of nausea. Terror made her voice tremble, but she forced herself to play along.

Luke suddenly flipped them over, pinning her to the dirt. His voice was breathless with excitement. “Doing it outside is way more fun...”

In a flash, she brought the rock up and smashed it viciously against his head. The blow threw him entirely off balance, and he collapsed to the side. Trembling uncontrollably, she clawed her way forward. Just as her fingers hooked onto the edge of a garden bench, a hand closed around her ankle, dragging her back into the deep shadows of the flowerbeds.

Suddenly, she spotted a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette in the corridor. She screamed at the top of her lungs, “Help! Frederick, help me...”

The man turned his gaze toward the flowerbeds. And with him turned the pitiful, trembling Sierra tucked securely into his arms.

“Fred... mmph...”

A hand clamped hard over her mouth, muffling her screams. The desperate plea in her eyes shattered into total devastation as she watched Frederick frown, shield Sierra closer against his chest, and turn to walk away in the opposite direction.

Lydia's pale face flushed crimson. She bit her swollen lips, a faint hint of mint still lingering in her mouth. Remembering the scene that had just occurred, she found herself inexplicably glancing toward Xavier's lips.

The man radiated a distant chill, looking away with total indifference.

It was a jarring contrast to the intense heat from moments before.

Seeing him about to leave, she remembered he had helped her time and again, and she had almost beaten him up instead of thanking him. Feeling deeply guilty, she scrambled to grab his sleeve. “Mr. Ford, thank you for saving me. I owe you my life, and I have no way to repay you, I...”

His large hand suddenly covered her slender fingers. Her heart gave a hard thump, but he didn't even look at her, keeping his cold profile turned away.

The next second, he brushed her hand off.

His lips parted, his voice ice-cold. “Don't get any ideas about offering yourself to me.”

“Have some self-awareness.”

With that, he turned and strode out the door.

“Wait... who said anything about offering myself... you... you... hold on a second!”

The overwhelming gratitude welling up inside Lydia evaporated into utter speechlessness. She wanted to chase after him and set the record straight, but the moment she moved, the thin blanket nearly slipped off her shoulders. She hurriedly clutched it to her chest, both furious and exasperated. “I meant I'm going to work hard to repay you!”

Nearby, Mrs. Wu chuckled. “You and Mr. Ford are quite the entertaining pair.”

She felt she had no right to face him.

“Professor.”

Harrison noticed her apprehension and gently nudged her forward. “Lydia came to see you.”

Professor Thorne's gaze landed on Lydia. With his natural, imposing authority, he let out a cold scoff. “I don't need her to.”

Knowing she was unwelcome, she didn't want to upset him further, but then she noticed him looking unwell.

Professor Thorne curled his hand into a fist, pressed it against his mouth, and coughed weakly. “It's enough that the rest of you came to see me.”

He looked awful. His hair was almost entirely white now, and the wrinkles around his eyes had deepened significantly compared to two years ago. Even his hands looked sallow and gaunt.

How had he aged so much?

“If I work myself to death in the lab, she doesn't need to come check on me then, either.”

“Harrison, take her away.”

Most people at sixty-five were still full of energy, smoothly directing their subordinates from the sidelines. But at his age, he was still on the frontlines of research, running experiments himself. The physical and mental toll must have been unimaginable.

She thought back to two years ago, when he had planned to hand the research institute over to her.

If she hadn't given it all up... would his health be better now?

“Professor, she's already here,” Harrison spoke up in her defense.

“Yeah, Professor, she...” the other researchers chimed in, trying to smooth things over.

But Professor Thorne's expression only grew colder. “She's not your colleague. She's a billionaire's wife. She doesn't have the time to sit here and talk about boring academic research with us.”

The harsh words felt like ice water poured over her head. She knew she should leave, but her legs felt like lead. She couldn't take a single step.

“Professor, I...”

“Don't. I can't bear the title. If you must, call me Professor Thorne.”

That one sentence drew an absolute, uncrossable line between them.

A bitter ache bloomed in her chest.

It was all her fault back then.

She deserved every bit of resentment he threw at her now.

“Professor Thorne...”

She murmured.

There was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that even though she hadn't been actively running experiments, she had never stopped studying and researching. She wanted to beg for one more chance, but how could she possibly have the nerve to ask?