The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 310

The van pulled smoothly away from the entrance of The Bourbon Opera House.

Lyra sat in her seat, her hands still trembling. She stared out the window at the flashing streetlights, her mind a tangled mess.

The man sat across from her in a lazy posture, not saying a word.

The car was dead silent.

Only the low hum of the engine and the occasional rumble of the tires against the road could be heard.

Lyra peeked up, stealing a glance at him.

He had Asian features. His complexion was luminous and his bone structure was exquisite, indistinguishable from the men back home. His contours were soft, yet his jawline was sharp, giving him a striking, almost androgynous beauty.

He was incredibly handsome.

The kind of handsome that stopped people in their tracks.

It wasn't Christian's cold, rugged charm, nor was it Sebastian's calm, commanding presence. His allure carried a brooding, almost toxic edge. When he lowered his gaze, he looked like a harmless aristocrat, but the moment the corner of his lips curled up, a chill shot down the spine.

He wore a perfectly tailored black suit over a black shirt, buttoned meticulously to the collar. His hands were encased in black leather gloves, highlighting his long, elegant fingers.

The most unsettling thing about him, however, was his eyes.

They were blue.

Not the typical dark brown, but a pure, translucent blue. Like the deep ocean, or freezing ice—a color that didn't seem to belong in this world.

Set against his Asian features, those eyes were breathtakingly beautiful, yet terrifying enough to make a heart skip a beat.

Looking into those eyes, Lyra's heart hammered against her ribs.

Leon Astor.

She knew this face far too well.

Four years.

They had been together for four whole years.

That was right. While she had been dating Christian, she was also seeing Leon. When Christian married Evelyn, Leon was the one who arranged for her to study in France. From her arrival in Paris to securing her spot at the opera house, this man had been the most important figure in her life. He taught her French, pulled strings, and handed her resources on a silver platter. She had honestly believed that even after leaving Christian, she and Leon would last forever.

Until she got pregnant, only to discover she was just one of his many women.

That baby—

Lyra's fingers suddenly clenched.

Leon seemed to notice her gaze.

He lifted his eyes and looked right at her.

There was zero warmth in those blue depths.

He slowly raised a hand, pressing a gloved index finger gently against his lips.

"Shh."

His movement was subtle, his voice an intimate whisper, like a lover's murmur.

This time, he sat right next to her.

So close.

Close enough that Lyra could smell his faint cologne—crisp and sharp, like a pine forest after a snowfall. After all these years, he was still wearing the same scent.

Leon raised his hands and slowly peeled off his gloves.

His hands were pale, almost translucent. The knuckles were pronounced, his nails trimmed immaculately.

He reached out, gently caressing Lyra's cheek.

His skin was as cold as ice.

Lyra shuddered violently. She instinctively tried to pull away, but his other hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"Don't move."

His tone was soft, like he was coaxing a child.

Lyra froze, feeling those freezing fingers slowly trace her face. From her cheek to her jaw, and down to her neck, every inch of her skin felt like it was being sliced by a blade of ice.

Her whole body was shaking.

She couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from pure terror.

Watching her reaction, a slow smile curved Leon's lips.

"You stirred up so much trouble back home," he said in flawless, unaccented English. "And now you're about to become Mrs. Lancaster. Why are you still such a coward?"