The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 3

Just then, a harsh ringtone shattered the silence of the bedroom. The name "Lydia Langford" flashed on the screen, casting a piercing glare in the dimly lit room.

Evelyn stared at the name, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips.-

She didn't answer.

The call automatically disconnected, only to ring again less than ten seconds later.

She still didn't answer.

When it rang for the third time, Evelyn walked over to the vanity and looked at her pale reflection in the mirror. The dried blood still clung to her fingertips like a withered, dark red flower. She picked up the phone, swiped to answer, and remained silent.

"Wow, finally decided to pick up?" Lydia's voice dripped with undisguised gloating. "Evelyn, you saw the news, didn't you? Lyra came back, and she brought a kid. So, how does it feel? Is your seat as Mrs. Lancaster still secure?"

Evelyn pulled out the vanity chair and sat down, her gaze locked calmly on her own reflection.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Heartbroken? Devastated?" Lydia's sharp, grating laughter echoed through the speaker. "Makes sense. No matter how well you played the part these past three years, you were never anything more than a stand-in. Now that the real deal is back, it's time for a fake like you to—"

"Are you done?"

Evelyn finally spoke. Her voice was incredibly light, yet it acted like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing Lydia's tirade.

The line went dead silent for a second.

"You..."

"Lydia." Evelyn cut her off, her tone as detached as if she were stating a simple, unrelated fact. "Christian has treated you quite well these past three years, hasn't he?"

Lydia froze, then quickly regained her smugness. "Of course. Christian always—"

"He got you the best job, bought you limited-edition designer bags, and canceled meetings just to visit you when you were sick." Evelyn spoke slowly, every word as clear as a judge reading a verdict. "Everyone says Mr. Lancaster spoils the younger Ms. Langford absolutely rotten."

Sensing the shift in her tone, Lydia grew defensive. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing much." Evelyn let out a soft laugh. "I just think that right now, shouldn't you be the one feeling the most miserable?"

"What nonsense are you talking about!"

Evelyn didn't even glance at it. She switched it to silent and tossed it onto the vanity.

She walked over to her closet and pulled out a nightgown. As her fingertips brushed against the fabric, she realized her cut was still throbbing. Looking down at the dried blood, her mind drifted back to her wedding night three years ago.

Christian had come home blackout drunk, supported by his assistant. Wearing a crimson nightgown, she had sat on the edge of the bed, watching him collapse onto the mattress, slurring a single name.

"Lyra..."

She had frozen, her fingers unconsciously clutching the bedsheets, her nails digging into her palms with the same sharp pain she felt now.

When he woke up later and saw her sitting there, a brief flash of disorientation crossed his eyes before they rapidly iced over.

"Why are you here?" he had asked.

"This is our bedroom," she whispered.

He frowned, didn't say another word, and got up to use the bathroom. After that night, he permanently moved into the guest room.