The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 260

At eleven o'clock late at night, Christian Lancaster's car turned into Emerald Bay.

This was one of New York's oldest and most exclusive affluent neighborhoods, an oasis of quiet amid the bustling city, with each sprawling estate separated by meticulously manicured oak trees. Three years ago, he had purchased this property as their marital home, spending the better part of a year having it renovated and flying in custom furniture from Italy.

Christian parked in the garage and sat in his car for a long time.

After he killed the engine, the surroundings grew so silent he could hear his own heartbeat. Through the window, he stared at the three-story house. Every single window was dark; not a single light had been left on for him.

Three years.

Over the past three years, he rarely came home at this hour. Social engagements, business trips, overtime at the office... there was always an excuse to stay away. On the rare occasions he did return, it was late at night. He would head straight for his study and leave before dawn.

He and Evelyn Sullivan had lived in this house like two complete strangers sharing a lease.

Christian pushed the car door open and stepped into the foyer.

The house was pitch black, illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlamps filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn't turn on the lights, simply standing in the darkness for a long while.

The air carried a faint scent of dust—he hadn't been back in two weeks. The housekeeper came once a week to clean, but no matter how thoroughly she scrubbed, a home without people in it always felt cold.

Christian shrugged off his coat and hung it on the rack by the entrance. Hanging right next to it was a light gray cashmere shawl. It belonged to Evelyn. He recognized it; she had worn it constantly when she went out last winter.

She hadn't taken it with her.

For some inexplicable reason, that realization caused a subtle, uncomfortable tug somewhere deep in his chest.

He walked further inside, passing the living room and the formal dining room she had never once used for a meal. Finally, he stopped in front of a tightly shut door.

It was Evelyn's bedroom.

In their three years of marriage, he had never once stepped inside.

It wasn't that he was forbidden to enter; there was simply never a reason to. They slept in separate rooms and lived separate lives, like two parallel lines that occasionally intersected in the living room for a polite nod before moving on.

Christian gripped the doorknob, paused for a few seconds, and then gently pushed it down.

The door clicked open.

By the ambient light spilling in from the hallway, he took in the room he had never once visited.

It wasn't particularly large, and the furnishings were incredibly sparse. A bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a single chair. There were no paintings on the walls, no plants on the windowsill. The entire space was as sterile and impersonal as a standard hotel room.

But her presence lingered in the air.

Christian stood frozen for a long time before he finally forced his legs to move.

He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open.

A dozen dresses hung neatly inside, all of them high-end designer gowns—Chanel haute couture, Armani evening wear, embroidered Valentino maxis. He had ordered his assistant to buy every single piece so she could accompany him to various high-society galas.

The price tags were still attached. Some looked as though they had never even been tried on.

Christian reached out, his fingers brushing against the heavy fabric of an emerald-green velvet dress. He remembered this one. It was from a charity gala. Evelyn had worn it that night, standing quietly in the crowd, utterly detached and perfectly poised. When he had walked down the red carpet with Lyra Langford on his arm, Evelyn had been standing alone in a corner, sipping champagne.

The look she had given him was no different from how she would look at a stranger.

Christian closed the wardrobe and pulled open a drawer.

Over a dozen velvet jewelry boxes were neatly stacked inside. He snapped one open to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. He opened another—a ruby necklace. A third held a sapphire bracelet.

He just hadn't ever bothered to notice it.

Christian closed his eyes.

Strangely, the crushing exhaustion of the entire day—the bitter arguments in the boardroom, the suffocating superficiality of his social events, Lyra's gentle doting, the ticking clock of his impending wedding—everything slowly melted away in this very moment.

His breathing gradually steadied.

The tension that had locked his shoulders for three years finally unspooled.

Just before his consciousness slipped away, he remembered something from a long time ago. It was perhaps the first week of their marriage. He had been working in his study until three in the morning. Walking past her bedroom, he had noticed a sliver of light spilling out from beneath her door. Assuming she was asleep, he had hesitated and chosen not to knock.

It was only later that he learned she was terrified of the dark.

For three years, she had needed the bedside lamp on just to fall asleep.

And he had never once asked her about it.

Christian fell into a heavy sleep.

It was completely dreamless.

For the first time in six months, he slept soundly.

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The early morning sun slipped through the gap in the curtains, casting a pale golden beam across the foot of the bed.