From His Invisible Wife to the World's Icon novel Chapter 87

Lydia froze for a fraction of a second, but recovered almost instantly. She continued peeling the seafood without even looking up.

"Don't blame Daniel. I know he did everything he could."

A fiercely determined light flared in her eyes. "I'm going to get that divorce, one way or another. Even if it doesn't happen immediately, I'm leaving the country in eighteen days."

"Out of sight, out of mind."

Those words, landing softly alongside the peeled meat on the plate, felt like a heavy blow to Joanna's heart, bringing a surge of agonizing guilt.

Her grip on Lydia's arm tightened slightly.

*I'm sorry, Lydia.*

*Let me be selfish just this once.*

As long as she and Xavier Ford finalized their engagement and set a wedding date, she swore she would personally hand Lydia that divorce certificate!

Five years of unrequited love were finally about to bear fruit. She couldn't let any variables ruin it.

Lydia followed Joanna's gaze and looked up with a smile. "Stop spacing out. The food is going to get cold."

Seeing Joanna finally eating, Lydia felt a wave of relief.

"By the way, who exactly is your fiancé? Is he the blind date you mentioned yesterday? You haven't even officially met him yet, have you? Isn't getting engaged this quickly a little reckless? Can I at least meet him before the engagement to screen him for you?"

She was still genuinely worried, even knowing Joanna wasn't the impulsive type.

Two hours later, the night completely blanketed the city.

Lydia dropped the relaxed facade she had maintained for Joanna, walked out of the hospital, and prepared to head back to Moonlight Cove.

"Ma'am," Griffin suddenly stepped out from the shadows of an old oak tree. "Mr. Foster requested I take you back to Tidal Crest Manor."

"Have you been following me this whole time?"

Sensing the sharp edge of her shock and anger, Griffin gave a curt nod.

In that moment, the crushing reality hit her: she was still just a plaything, completely under Frederick's thumb.

She trembled from head to toe, closing her eyes as she forced herself to swallow the bitter truth.

She was still his wife.

She fought to suppress the humiliating rage clawing at her throat, but she could feel herself standing on the razor's edge of a breakdown...

"Take me to the psychological clinic," she commanded, opening her shadowed eyes and walking forward.

Griffin immediately followed, opening the back door of the van for her.

They arrived at the clinic.

"Mrs. Foster, please wait in the VIP room. Dr. Vance is currently in a session."

His warm breath brushed her ear, heavy with palpable irritation.

"Ms. Sterling, did I not make myself clear?"

"What?"

Lydia looked up into his intense, dark eyes, briefly forgetting to pull away as the man curled his attractive lips into a sneer.

"Stop following me."

"I wasn't..."

His sharp gaze silenced her explanation.

"Averton is a big city. Just how many times have we 'accidentally' run into each other in the past few days?"

That...

Lydia bit her lower lip, a humiliating blush creeping up her neck.

She recalled crashing into him at The Pulse, accidentally tumbling into his lap in the back of his Bentley, kissing him under the influence of the drugged drink, and even initiating the kiss back at the club...

Looking at it from the perspective of the heir to the Ford empire—a man relentlessly hunted by high-society women—she had to admit she looked exactly like a woman desperately trying to seduce him.

The man suddenly took a step forward, planting a hand flat against the wall behind her. He trapped her between the wall and the solid expanse of his chest. Looming over her, his oppressive aura radiated a dark, intoxicating danger. "Don't forget your place, Ms. Sterling," his voice was crisp and cold. "And don't cross the line again."