She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 104

Quentin glanced at the cover of the algorithm textbook in her hands. Before he could speak, Lyra closed the book and stood up.

"Finished? Let's go. Dinner is on me."

"Uh?" Quentin was caught completely off guard. He was starving, sure, but grabbing dinner with the heiress of Fairchild Holdings hadn't exactly been on his agenda.

"Is that... appropriate?"

Lyra didn't give him a chance to overthink it. "You're practically working yourself to the bone for my family's company. Buying you a meal is the least I can do. I work here too, you know. Just treat me like any other coworker."

Quentin considered her logic. "Alright. Lead the way."

Half an hour later, Lyra pulled up to The Sapphire Room, one of the city's most exclusive bistros.

They ordered a few signature dishes and fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. Quentin was genuinely surprised by how engaging the heiress was.

Armed with the knowledge of a past life, Lyra knew exactly which tech ventures would explode into multibillion-dollar empires, and which heavily hyped apps would inevitably crash and burn. Her insights were sharp and flawless.

By the time they finished their steaks, Quentin found himself wishing the dinner didn't have to end so soon.

As they stood up to leave, he reached for his wallet, only to find out Lyra had already discreetly settled the tab via her phone.

Night had fully fallen over Seaborne City. The moment they stepped out of the elegant glass doors of The Sapphire Room, Lyra looked up—and froze.

Rowan was walking directly toward them, accompanied by a man she didn't recognize.

Their eyes locked. The easy smile on Lyra's face vanished instantly.

Rowan's gaze swept over Quentin, calculating and cold, before returning to Lyra. He looked at her with the absolute indifference of a stranger, then walked right past them without breaking stride.

Quentin couldn't help but look over his shoulder.

Lyra's heart hammered against her ribs. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Quentin muttered, shaking his head. "He just looked familiar."

Lyra pressed her lips into a thin line, refusing to elaborate.

"Come on," she said tightly. "I'll drive you home."

Quentin didn't refuse. "Okay, let's go."

...

Lyra grabbed her trench coat. The second Montgomery shoved the medical kit into her hands, she bolted for the elevator.

She practically flew across the city, breaking multiple traffic laws to reach the Jameson Group tower.

Without bothering to knock, she shoved open the heavy oak doors of the CEO's office.

On the drive over, Waylon had texted her the details: Caleb had found out Rowan was actively accusing Lyra of orchestrating Jasmine's accident, and he'd lost his mind.

"Caleb..."

Lyra burst into the room, but her brother was nowhere to be seen.

Rowan was the only one there. He leaned casually against his mahogany desk, a lit cigarette pinned between his fingers. A vicious cut bled freely near his temple. His expression was dangerously calm, the curling cigarette smoke blurring the lethal edge in his eyes.

Lyra stood frozen in the doorway, the first-aid kit dangling from her grip. The panic she had built up on the drive over suddenly lodged in her throat.

Where was Caleb?

Desperate to avoid the fallout, Lyra briefly considered pretending she hadn't noticed the blood dripping down Rowan's face and sneaking right back out.

But Rowan lifted his head, his predatory gaze locking onto her.