She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 189

Lyra had no idea where Lucas was taking her.

Right on cue, her stomach let out a loud, embarrassing growl.

She froze, mortified. It was dinnertime, and she usually ate with her family at this hour.

Lucas let out a mocking scoff. "Hungry?"

He tapped the partition. "Find a high-end bistro nearby and pull over."

He glanced sideways at Lyra. "Let's get you fed. If you starve and pass out, people will start rumors that I'm mistreating you."

Lyra had zero desire to share a meal with this psycho, but she was terrified he would snap and send his goons back to Calvin's factory if she refused. Resigned, she sent a quick text to her family so they wouldn't worry.

Inside the elegant, dimly lit restaurant, Lucas swirled the wine in his glass. "Alistair has officially given his blessing to Jasmine."

"You should stop butting heads with her," he advised smoothly. "The renovation crew is already working on Alistair's multi-million dollar mansion."

The implication was clear: Rowan and Jasmine's wedding was rapidly approaching.

Lucas watched her intently, analyzing her reaction to every word. But Lyra just chewed her food in total silence, her cheeks puffed out slightly, her gaze fixed blankly on her plate. She didn't so much as flinch.

Satisfied with her indifference, Lucas nodded. "Eat up. You've lost weight recently."

The casual comment struck a nerve, dredging up a horrific memory from her past life. Lyra shot him a fleeting, haunted look before quickly dropping her eyes back to the table.

Oblivious to her internal panic, Lucas seemed to be in excellent spirits. "Once Rowan and Jasmine tie the knot, you can finally drop this ridiculous charade with Caspian."

The food tasted like ash in her mouth. She forced herself to swallow before looking up. "Caspian and I are genuinely in love. We're going to get married."

Lucas's jaw clenched. He knew she only said it because it was the one thing guaranteed to piss him off.

He slammed his wine glass down onto the table, his knuckles turning white. "The Fairchild Princess sure moves on quickly. Why don't you speed up the timeline and find a third guy to fall in love with?"

Lyra was about to snap a sarcastic reply when a bubbly voice interrupted them.

"Lucas?"

It was Elara Townsend. She and a friend happened to be dining at the same restaurant. Seeing Lucas sitting with Lyra, her voice dripped with sour jealousy. "What are you doing here?"

As the driver navigated the city streets, Lucas closed his eyes to rest.

Elara bit the inside of her cheek. Jasmine was right—truly powerful, elite men preferred a clean, luminous complexion over a heavily contoured, artificial mask. Jasmine always kept her look effortlessly natural, wearing minimal makeup that made her look radiantly elegant.

Suddenly, Elara felt profoundly embarrassed by her own heavy makeup. It felt cheap and garish.

Her grandmother had told her to observe and learn from Jasmine. Clearly, the old woman was right.

Perhaps it was the sheer stress of sitting across from Lucas, but that night, the nightmares returned.

In her dreams, she was backed into a corner, tormented and assaulted by Lucas. His voice echoed in the darkness, whispering that she was too thin, that she needed to fatten up for him.

Lyra woke up in the dead of night, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

A vicious cramp seized her stomach. She curled into a tight ball beneath the duvet, biting her lip so hard she tasted copper.

The room was engulfed in suffocating silence. Unable to bear the isolation, she flicked on her bedside lamp, pushed off the blankets, and stepped her bare feet onto the freezing hardwood floor.