The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 2

"Mr. Lancaster! What is your relationship with Ms. Langford?"

"Is this your child?"

Camera flashes erupted in a blinding frenzy.

Christian swept his gaze over the crowd. His eyes were as cold as ice, yet when he looked down at Lyra, they softened with a rare, tender warmth. Facing the cameras, he spoke every word with absolute clarity.

"Lyra is the most important person to me. As for anything else, no comment."

He paused, then added a sentence that acted like an ice-cold dagger, stabbing straight into the heart of the woman sitting in a living room thousands of miles away.

"As for certain business marriages, they are nothing more than mutually beneficial transactions. They aren't worth mentioning."

---

The chaos on the television continued to roar.

Trending hashtags climbed the charts at a visible speed: #LyraLangfordReturnsWithSon #ChristianLancasterAirportRescue #LancasterCEOHiddenChild

Evelyn watched in absolute silence, her face completely devoid of expression. Only the slight tremble of her eyelashes betrayed the storm raging inside her.

She stood up and walked into the dining room.

The twelve dishes had gone completely cold. The grease had congealed on the surface like an ugly scab. She picked up the plate of pan-seared sea bass and dumped it into the trash can. Then the black truffle baked lobster, the red wine braised beef cheeks... one plate after another.

Finally, she reached for the third-anniversary cake.

The light purple frosting remained pristine, but the fresh rose petals had already wilted. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the cool, delicate cream, and then pressed down hard, burying her entire hand into the cake.

"Mrs. Lancaster..." Arthur's voice drifted from behind her.

"Clean it up," Evelyn said, her back to him. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. "I won't be having dinner tonight."

She walked out into the garden.

The night had fallen, and the roses were in full bloom under the moonlight. This was a wedding gift from Silas Lancaster—a century-old rose garden transplanted all the way from the Coastal Valley. For three years, she had personally tended to every single plant, pruning, fertilizing, and weeding them as if they were her own children.

Her fingertips traced a deep red rose, the petals as soft as velvet.

Then, she gripped it tightly.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify