The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 400

At six o'clock in the morning, the private Astor family estate was still cloaked in a heavy, ethereal mist.

Lydia Langford was gently shaken awake.

"Miss, it's time to get up."

She fluttered her eyes open. The sky outside the towering windows was just barely beginning to lighten. Two maids were already hovering dutifully by her bedside, holding her wardrobe and an extensive makeup kit.

She was guided into the lavish bathroom, where scalding water washed over her skin. As the steam filled the room, she leaned against the marble tiles, letting the maids scrub her down. She had long since grown accustomed to this hollow, paralyzing numbness.

Once she was dried off, they sat her down in front of the ornate vanity.

Three maids swarmed her—one for makeup, one for hair, and one meticulously curating her outfit.

Soft brushes swept delicately across her skin, layering the products with absolute precision.

Her eyebrows were trimmed and shaped into soft, gentle crescents.

A sheer wash of pale pink eyeshadow made her eyes look remarkably wide and innocent.

Her lips were tinted a natural, flushed pink—nothing too heavy, striking the perfect balance of youth and vitality.

Her hair was swept up and loosely pinned at the back of her head, with a few carefully placed strands framing her face, giving off an effortlessly soft and vulnerable aura.

Finally, the makeup artist selected an ultra-fine eyeliner pen and gently dotted a tiny, subtle mole just beneath the corner of her eye.

It was a minuscule detail, but it instantly transformed her entire face, lending her an aura of unique, captivating melancholy.

Lydia stared at her own reflection in the mirror.

Those wide eyes were pure, utterly innocent, carrying the fragile, skittish vulnerability of a frightened doe.

She looked exactly like a harmless, pure-hearted girl.

The memory of the mysterious man's instructions from the night before echoed in her mind:

"Tomorrow, you will attend the university. Remember, you are just an ordinary, struggling student. You work part-time at the library to afford your tuition. This will be your first time crossing paths with a man of extreme power. You will act nervous. You will act shy. And you will look up at him with pure, unfiltered admiration."

She had no idea who that mysterious benefactor was; she only knew he was the architect orchestrating this entire charade.

But she was acutely aware that the man she was scheduled to meet today was of unimaginable importance.

A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts, and a maid peeked her head into the room.

"Miss, the car is waiting out front."

Lydia took a deep, steadying breath and stood up.

She was dressed in a remarkably simple, crisp white button-down shirt and well-worn jeans. With her hair pulled back and her face seemingly devoid of heavy makeup—save for that striking little mole beneath her eye—she looked flawlessly pure, like an untainted innocent dove.

She walked out of the room.

—

Meanwhile, at the ancestral Astor Family estate.

The morning sun cascaded over the ancient stone architecture, wrapping the oppressively gloomy manor in a rare, golden warmth.

Inside the grand dining hall, a decadent breakfast was arranged across the endlessly long table.

The Duke sat at the head of the table, methodically cutting his food with practiced aristocratic grace.

Pierre Fontane sat a few seats down, eating in absolute silence.

The father and son hadn't exchanged a single word.

Pierre would occasionally steal a glance at his father before quickly dropping his gaze back to his plate.

He knew the patriarch had been in a foul mood lately.

And he knew exactly why: Leon.

That bastard son had made an absolute fool of himself at the matriarch's banquet, dragging the entire family name through the mud. The Duke hadn't explicitly condemned him, but he had aggressively frozen Leon out for three straight days. The bastard hadn't even been invited to today's university anniversary gala.

A faint, triumphant smirk pulled at the corners of Pierre's mouth.

This was a godsend.

"Father," Pierre spoke up, his tone a perfect picture of filial respect. "Would you like me to accompany you to the university today?"