The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 130

*Bang!*

The deafening slam of the door exploded behind her, shaking the frame violently and making Madeline's heart lurch in her chest. She stood frozen, her back to the heavy wooden barrier, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the adrenaline of their brief, explosive confrontation. Christian's final, icy demand—"what exactly she is trying to accomplish"—still hung in the air, sharp as a rusted blade.

Drugged? Evelyn?

Ridiculous!

The very idea of linking those words together sparked a furious, almost hysterical rage inside Madeline. She spun around, her eyes burning like coals, locking onto the manila envelope sitting innocently on the glass coffee table. The pale brown flap was slightly open. It sat there on the polished surface, looking entirely out of place, like a ticking time bomb waiting to level her life.

Evelyn pulling a stunt like that? Only if hell froze over!

Madeline knew her best friend better than anyone. The sheer, ingrained pride Evelyn possessed—the kind that kept her spine rigidly straight even when her life was falling apart—completely contradicted using a cheap, disgusting trick like drugging someone. It was the most vile, degrading insult to Evelyn's character! It genuinely sickened Madeline more than the cold shoulder and the divorce papers ever did.

And yet... Christian's reaction just now.

It wasn't like Madeline had never seen the CEO angry. When the ruthless tycoon lost his temper, he could freeze a boardroom solid. But just now, beneath the fury in his eyes, there was something she had never witnessed before—a chaotic, vulnerable mix of shock, agony, and total disbelief. That wasn't just him looking for a scapegoat or throwing a tantrum. It looked like the visceral reaction of a man who had been deeply wounded by 'proof.'

What kind of 'proof' could possibly make a man like Christian Lancaster lose his mind and storm into his ex-wife's best friend's apartment demanding answers?

Doubt and rage waged war in her chest. Gritting her teeth, Madeline marched over to the coffee table. With a furious, aggressive swipe, she snatched up the seemingly weightless, yet impossibly heavy envelope. The paper felt cold against her skin. Without a second thought, she ripped the flap open and pulled the contents free.

It was a stack of color photographs. They were blown up, and the resolution wasn't great—they carried the blurry, grainy quality of stealth shots taken from a highly specific angle.

One look, and Madeline's pupils shrank to pinpricks. Her brow knitted into a fierce scowl.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify