The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 170

Sebastian was utterly suffocated by her words, a violent surge of rage rushing straight to his head. He had never met a woman like this! So relentlessly cold, so razor-sharp, effortlessly reducing an encounter that he viewed as uniquely significant—almost fated—into a clinical "transaction" to "solve a problem"! She had even used that exact, sterilized, medical tone to ask if he acted this way with every woman!

His legendary self-control, his pride in always dominating the board, evaporated entirely in front of her. He was so furious he literally couldn't find the words to strike back. The fire inside him violently ricocheted against his ribs, leaving his throat parched and raw.

Watching his face cycle through a spectrum of colors as he choked on his own anger, Evelyn felt no thrill of victory. She just felt exhausted and found the entire display ridiculous. Having zero interest in entertaining his pointless emotional outbursts, she tapped the folder against the desk again.

"If there's nothing else, please see yourself out, Mr. Thorne. Again, thank you for the file."

It was a direct eviction notice, leaving absolutely no room for debate.

Sebastian glared at her, a terrifying storm raging in his bottomless eyes—fury, disbelief, absolute defeat, and a sharp, piercing pain that he couldn't even begin to define. Finally, all that chaos condensed into a low, guttural snarl that he squeezed through his teeth.

"You're unbelievable, Evelyn!"

He spun around violently, refusing to look at her for another second, and marched toward the door. His posture was as imposing as ever, but every step radiated a suffocating, suppressed rage. Just as his hand gripped the brass doorknob, he froze. He didn't turn around, but his low, gravelly voice echoed clearly across the room.

"You can be as reckless with yourself as you want. That's your choice. But that was my first time, and it's not something you can just brush off. You'd better remember that."

With that, he yanked the door open and vanished into the darkened hallway. The heavy door slammed shut with a deafening bang, shaking the framed paintings on the wall.

The room crashed back into dead silence.

Sebastian stood outside the door, his chest heaving heavily from the violent emotional surge. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to lock down the inferno threatening to burn out of his chest, fighting against a deeply unfamiliar, chaotic blend of ice and fire.

"Boss?" Lance Sterling, who had been waiting down the hall, practically fused with the shadows, was jolted by the explosive noise and the suffocating, almost tangible aura of fury radiating from Sebastian. He quickly closed the distance.

Lance had been at Sebastian's side for ten years. He had survived countless brutal corporate wars, life-or-death crises, and underworld assassinations with him. He had seen his boss furious, ruthless, and coldly calculating. But he had never, ever seen him like this—like a suppressed volcano currently tearing itself apart from the inside, radiating a heat so intense it burned to even stand near him. Sebastian was drowning in an emotion Lance couldn't fully comprehend—a toxic cocktail of biblical rage, crushing defeat, and something that looked almost like the raw, fragile hurt of a child.

Lance's heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes instinctively darting to the closed door. Inside was... Ms. Sullivan. The only person on the planet capable of breaking the boss this thoroughly had to be her. Considering the folder Sebastian had carried in—the dirt on the Lancaster family's messy scandals—did they just have a blowout fight over business? But what kind of "business dispute" could possibly drive the eternally composed Sebastian Thorne to the brink of insanity?

Choosing his words with extreme caution, Lance lowered his voice. "Boss, are you... alright? Did you and Ms. Sullivan..."