The rest of the dinner was dominated by the lieutenant general, the conversation revolving heavily around old military stories.
To Lyra, it felt like Rowan had completely hijacked the room to put on a personal showcase. After just a few exchanges, even Secretary Thorne was looking at Rowan with clear admiration.
After dinner, Thorne said his goodbyes to Lyra, and the high-ranking officials climbed into their respective vehicles and drove off.
As the cars disappeared down the street, Rowan stepped out of the shadows and stopped right next to her. "Was that really necessary?"
"Absolutely," Lyra snapped.
Rowan tilted his head, his charming smile entirely gone. "Aren't you being a bit too hostile? Even in front of Secretary Thorne, you had to..."
"Compared to what you've done to my family, this doesn't even qualify as hostility."
"What exactly did I do?" Rowan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do I need to remind you that Fairchild Holdings is still standing?"
"You didn't spare Fairchild Holdings out of the goodness of your heart, Rowan."
Lyra let out a cold laugh. "You backed off because I secured Thorne's support, and you know you can't touch us now. So of course I'm going to make it crystal clear to him that we have nothing to do with each other. I couldn't let you charm him with that face of yours."
With that, Lyra climbed into the waiting armored Lincoln sedan—the one Thorne had arranged to take her home.
Rowan stood there, watching the car speed off into the night.
...
As soon as Lyra walked through her front door, she said, "Mrs. Whittaker, you're fired."
Mrs. Whittaker stared at her in shock. "Lyra, did I do something wrong? I can fix it! Please don't fire me!"
Lyra had realized that her every move was being monitored by Rowan, and it made her skin crawl.
She glared at the woman. "It was you, wasn't it?"
"After I left, you contacted him, didn't you?"
Andrea was no longer tailing her.


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