The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 350

The heavy gates of Château Rothschild slowly swung open.

Sebastian Thorne followed Charles and Evelyn inside the palatial estate.

Flanking the grand entrance, two rows of black-clad guards bowed their heads in perfect, mechanical synchronization, moving as if they had been drilled thousands of times.

As they moved past the foyer, the space dramatically opened up before them.

They entered a massive grand hall with a soaring, vaulted ceiling adorned in Renaissance-style frescoes. Angels, clouds, and golden rays of light seemed to come alive under the glow of countless crystal chandeliers. Priceless, floor-to-ceiling oil paintings lined the walls, while a richly patterned, hand-woven Persian rug swallowed the sound of their footsteps.

An elderly man dressed in a sharp tailcoat hurried forward to greet them.

He appeared to be in his sixties, his hair silver but his posture ramrod straight. A polite smile rested on his face, though his gaze was as predatory and sharp as a hawk's.

"Sir. Evelyn," he said, offering a slight bow. His voice was steady and deeply respectful.

Charles gave a curt nod and continued walking deeper into the manor.

Evelyn offered him a warm smile. "Felton."

The butler's gaze shifted to Sebastian.

It was a single, sweeping glance, taking him in from head to toe and back again.

The scrutiny felt like an X-ray, as if he were trying to strip away Sebastian's exterior and examine his very bones.

Sebastian stood his ground, radiating a calm, unyielding confidence.

The corners of Felton's mouth twitched upward into a faint smile that inexplicably dialed up the tension in the room.

"And this gentleman?" he asked.

Before Evelyn could speak, Charles answered for her.

"One of the girl's suitors, Sebastian Thorne," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "He insisted on tagging along, so I let him."

A sudden spark lit up Felton's eyes.

He looked at Sebastian, his gaze sharpening with intensified scrutiny.

It was the look of an appraiser evaluating a piece of merchandise—weighing whether this man was truly worthy of Evelyn.

Then, he leaned forward in a polite bow, his smile remaining perfectly proper but laced with profound implication.

"Welcome."

Sebastian nodded. "Thank you for having me."

Felton chuckled softly and stepped aside to clear the path.

"It is right around dinnertime, and you both must be famished. Mr. Thorne, if you wouldn't mind, would you care to join us for a simple, casual meal?"

A casual meal?

Sebastian glanced around at the palace-like opulence surrounding them, scoffing inwardly.

There was absolutely nothing casual about this place.

Still, he kept his expression perfectly neutral and gave a polite nod.

"I'd be honored."

***

The dining room was even more extravagantly luxurious than the foyer.

A thirty-foot mahogany table dominated the space, draped in pristine white linens and adorned with sterling silver candelabras and fresh floral arrangements. A massive portrait hung on the wall, depicting some unnamed aristocrat who seemed to stare down at the table with haughty disdain.

Charles took his seat at the head of the table, with Evelyn settling in at his right.

Felton pulled out the chair on Charles's left, gesturing for Sebastian to take a seat.

Sebastian sat down.

The butler clapped his hands lightly.

A line of servers in crisp white uniforms filed into the room, carrying polished silver platters. Their movements were graceful and entirely silent, like meticulously trained dancers.

Course after course was served—appetizers, soup, a main course, and sides—each dish plated as exquisitely as a work of art.

Sebastian stared at the food, his mind completely elsewhere.

He shot Felton a look that clearly communicated, 'Keep going.'

Taking the hint, the butler continued his interrogation.

"How old are you, Mr. Thorne?"

"Thirty-one."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

Felton arched a brow. "Never?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Never."

Felton stared at him, a distinct trace of skepticism in his gaze.

Thirty-one years old, the heir to the Thorne family of San Francisco, sitting on billions of dollars, and undeniably handsome—and he had never had a girlfriend?

Charles chimed in from the side. "Earlier, right in the middle of the hall and in front of an entire crowd, he declared he wants to marry our Little Treasure. Offered to hand over all his assets, let the child take her last name, and walk away with absolutely nothing if he ever cheats."

Felton's eyes went wide.

He looked at Sebastian with a sudden, complicated mix of emotions—surprise, admiration, and perhaps... a touch of pity?

To make a brazen claim like that right to Charles's face took some serious guts.

The butler turned his attention to Evelyn.

She was still staring down, idly pushing her food around the plate as if the conversation had absolutely nothing to do with her.

Charles looked at her as well.

"Little Treasure," he prompted softly. "What do you think?"