The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 110

The black Bentley cruised smoothly through the night. The interior was dead silent, save for the low hum of the engine and the soft whisper of the climate control.

In the backseat, Christian was slumped against the premium leather, his eyes squeezed shut and his brows locked in a deep scowl. His breathing was far more ragged than usual, and a feverish red flush had completely taken over his face. A sheen of sweat clung to his forehead, matting strands of his dark hair against his skin.

The drug was relentlessly consuming his rationality and physical control.

From the driver's seat, Preston cast a worried glance in the rearview mirror and spoke cautiously to Lyra in the passenger seat. "Ms. Langford, did the boss drink a lot tonight? Even when Mr. Hilti hits the bottle, Mr. Lancaster rarely gets like this..."

Lyra's heart skipped a terrifying beat, but she instantly molded her features into a mask of pure, tender concern. She twisted in her seat, gently pressing a soft tissue against Christian's sweating forehead. Her movements were delicate, her voice dripping with affection. "He's just been under an insane amount of pressure lately, jumping from one event to the next. That red wine they opened tonight was incredibly strong... Christian was just so thrilled about closing the deal that he overindulged."

She pulled her hand back, her fingertips still tingling from the unnatural heat of his skin. That burning touch sent a jolt of raw terror and thrilling anticipation straight through her veins.

"Preston, head straight to The Pinnacle Apartments. It's closer, and it'll be easier for me to look after him," Lyra instructed, her tone effortlessly slipping into that of a commanding wife.

Preston hesitated for a fraction of a second. Christian had a massive estate where he usually stayed, and while The Pinnacle was his ultra-luxurious private penthouse, he rarely ever slept there. But... Preston glanced in the mirror again at his feverish, groaning boss. Factoring in Lyra's current status and the elite gossip that she was the undeniable "future Mrs. Lancaster," his hesitation vanished.

"Understood, Ms. Langford," Preston replied, spinning the steering wheel and accelerating toward the west side of the city.

The Bentley pulled into the underground garage of the high-rise. Preston parked the car, jumped out, and ripped open the rear door.

"Christian, we're here," Lyra murmured softly, leaning in and wrapping her hands around his arm.

Christian slowly forced his eyes open. The sharp, commanding chill that usually defined him was gone, replaced by a thick, unfocused haze. His eyes drifted over Lyra's face, pausing for several long seconds as if trying to identify her. Finally, he let out a rough grunt and, with the support of both Lyra and Preston, practically stumbled out of the car.

He was burning up. Even through the thick fabric of his bespoke shirt, Lyra could feel the scorching, unnatural heat radiating from his body. He slumped heavily against her. His masculine scent, heavily laced with the smell of rich wine, washed over her, making her heart stutter before it launched into a frantic rhythm—a mix of pure nerves and the intoxicating rush of her plan falling perfectly into place.

"Preston, you can head home and get some rest. Thank you for tonight," Lyra said, straining under Christian's weight as she flashed the assistant a gracious, appreciative smile. "I'll take it from here. I'll make sure Christian knows how much you helped when he wakes up tomorrow."

Preston waved his hands frantically. "You're too kind, Ms. Langford, it's my job. I'll... leave the boss in your capable hands." Watching Lyra struggle to walk Christian toward the private elevator, Preston's last shred of doubt evaporated. This woman was completely devoted to his boss. It was only a matter of time before she officially ruled the Lancaster empire.

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