The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 228

The air inside The Undercurrent was a thick cocktail of alcohol, perfume, sweat, and sickly-sweet incense. The EDM beat thumped like a physical wall, rattling against her eardrums and completely throwing off her heartbeat.

Lydia pushed through the grinding bodies on the dance floor. Her stiletto clipped someone's foot, but she didn't even bother to look back.

In the corner booth by the bar, the man in the gold-rimmed glasses remained seated. His amber glass of whiskey sat practically untouched. Dressed in a sharply tailored black suit with his crisp white shirt buttoned strictly to the collar, he looked entirely out of place in the grimy club—yet he possessed an imposing aura that screamed he was not to be approached lightly.

Lydia slipped onto the high stool across from him, dropped her clutch on the table, and tilted her chin up. "You looking for me?"

The man raised his eyes. Behind the lenses, his narrow gaze traced her face for two full seconds before he finally spoke. "Lydia Langford?"

"That's me." Lydia pulled a slender cigarette from her clutch. "Do I know you?"

"We haven't met," he replied smoothly. "But I've heard of you."

Lydia lit the cigarette, took a deep drag, and blew the smoke out slowly. "Heard of me? Because I'm Lyra's sister?"

The mockery in her tone was loud and clear. For years, too many people had reduced her to just that—'Lyra's sister,' as if she were nothing more than someone else's accessory.

The man adjusted his glasses, the faintest ghost of a smile touching his lips. "To be exact, because you're Christian Lancaster's future sister-in-law."

Lydia's fingers froze around her cigarette.

Christian Lancaster's sister-in-law.

That label repulsed her even more than being Lyra's sister.

"And?" She flicked her ashes. "Are you a friend of Lyra's? Or Christian's? Because if you are, we have nothing to talk about."

She shifted her weight, pretending to stand up.

"I'm not close with Lyra." The man's voice wasn't loud, but it cut cleanly through the club's deafening bass. "And I wouldn't call myself friends with Christian... either."

Lydia stopped, settling back into her seat, and studied him through narrowed eyes. "Then what do you want from me?"

"Just wanted to introduce myself." The man picked up his glass and gave it a gentle swirl. "After all, it's not every day you meet someone brave enough to cause a scene at the Lancaster family dinner."

The implication was heavy.

It was true. She knew almost everyone Lyra knew, or at least recognized their names. She had zero recollection of a Julian St. Claire.

Suddenly, her phone started vibrating on the table.

Lydia glanced at the screen—it was her mother. She frowned, deliberating for two seconds before picking it up.

Mrs. Langford's frantic voice immediately pierced through the receiver. "Lydia! Where are you? Get home right now!"

"I'm out," Lydia snapped impatiently. "What do you want?"

"Listen to me and come home immediately." Her mother's voice cracked with tears. "Your sister is furious. If you don't come back, she's going to cut off your credit cards..."

"Let her cut them!" The rage flared up in Lydia instantly. "Mom, is Lyra the only person you care about? Whenever she's mad, you bend over backwards to coddle her! What about me? Am I just supposed to be suffocated and bossed around by you people forever?"

"Lydia, that's not what I meant..."

"Then what did you mean?" Lydia shouted over the club music. "Since we were kids, you've only ever had eyes for her! She's perfect, and I'm a mess! And now that she's marrying into the Lancaster family, you care even less if I live or die, right?! Fine! Then just pretend you never had a second daughter!"