I Chose Me Over My Marriage novel Chapter 29

After a long moment, Maxwell cursed under his breath.

Since when had Lyra gained the power to hijack his thoughts?

The night dragged on, plunging the massive villa into absolute silence.

Two separate rooms. Two people. Separated by nothing but a single wooden door, yet standing on opposite sides of an uncrossable abyss.

The next morning.

When Maxwell woke up, the door to the guest room was still firmly shut.

He had long grown accustomed to Lyra waking him up with a soft voice, her having already laid out a perfectly coordinated suit for his day.

Now, there was nothing.

"You brought this on yourself, Lyra."

He had spent the entire night agonizing over one specific question.

And by morning, he finally had an answer.

Why had he been acting so out of character these past two days?

Why was every single move Lyra made suddenly consuming his mind?

He found the perfect justification.

It was just habit.

Even if he didn't love Lyra, they had spent years living under the same roof. He was human; he couldn't just switch off his humanity overnight.

But as for love? His heart had belonged to Aria from the very beginning. There was absolutely no way he harbored feelings for Lyra.

"You used to be satisfied just holding the title of Mrs. Sterling. Now, you're demanding far too much. I can't give it to you, and I never will."

"Throw your little tantrums, but don't push your luck. I can give you one or two chances, but there will absolutely not be a third. This is the third time. Suit yourself."

Leaving those words to the empty hallway, Maxwell walked out.

He was certain Lyra was already awake.

And he was right—she had barely slept a wink.

Lyra had spent the entire night obsessing over how to pry her grandmother's heirloom from Maxwell's grip.

But she didn't even have the slightest clue where he had hidden it.

Knock, knock—

The sound snapped Lyra out of her trance. She walked over and opened the door.

"Fine. Perfect."

In all their years of marriage, this was the first time he had actually gone out of his way to be considerate, and this was how she repaid him.

Maxwell glared up at the second floor.

Lyra wasn't going to walk down those stairs to greet him like she used to.

The excuses he had fed himself all morning felt like expired pain meds—they couldn't even numb the sting.

Suddenly, the food in front of him tasted like ash.

Maxwell shoved his chair back and stormed out the door.

Lyra spent half the day suffocating inside the walls of the villa.

It wasn't until Chloe called that her tense posture finally relaxed a fraction.

"Hey, why didn't you come home last night? I moved all your stuff in, and now you're the only thing missing. Don't tell me you couldn't find the heirloom? That's impossible. You barely leave the house, and unless someone went out of their way to hide it, how could it just vanish?"

Lyra had to hand it to her friend's detective skills.

"Maxwell took it."

"What?" Chloe's voice skyrocketed in outrage. "Excuse me? That's your property. What right does that bastard have to take it?"