The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 443

"Study?" The tall girl scoffed. "Study what? I've seen a million girls like you. You think opening your legs is a one-way ticket to a better life. But you need to remember where you are. How long is that old man going to keep you around? A year? Two? The second he gets bored, you're nothing."

She reached out, snatched Lydia's notebook off the desk, and flicked through it. The pages were filled with meticulously neat French vocabulary. "Wow, she really tries." She sneered, tossing the notebook back onto the table.

The notebook hit the edge, flipped over, and scattered its loose pages onto the floor. Lydia knelt to pick them up, but just as her fingers grazed the paper, a heel stomped down on the edge of the sheet.

The tall girl pressed her stiletto heel into the paper, slowly twisting it. The paper ripped with a sharp, crisp sound. It wasn't loud, but in the dead-silent library, it sounded like a gunshot.

Lydia's hand froze mid-air. Kneeling on the floor, clutching half a torn page, she kept her head bowed. Tears swam in her eyes but refused to fall.

The tall girl looked down at her, her voice laced with venom. "Trash like you doesn't belong at a school like this."

"That is enough."

The voice wasn't loud, but it was deep and resonated with a terrifying, glacial authority that sent a shiver down everyone's spine.

Every head snapped toward the sound. The Duke stood at the end of the aisle, dressed in a charcoal overcoat, a book in his hand. With the sunlight pouring in behind him, his expression was obscured in shadow, but his eyes were colder than ice. He walked toward them, the heavy thud of his dress shoes against the hardwood echoing like a death knell in the silence.

The three girls went deathly pale. The tall girl instinctively stumbled backward, her heels scraping loudly against the floor.

The Duke stopped right in front of Lydia. He bent down and offered his hand. It was a large, elegant hand with long fingers and pronounced knuckles, casting a soft shadow in the sunlight. Lydia looked up, her eyes red, tears still swimming in her vision. Her eyelashes fluttered, and a single tear finally broke free, splashing warmly into his open palm.

She stared at his hand for a long time. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand in his. His grip was warm and dry as he gently pulled her up, his movements incredibly careful, as if terrified he might break her.

The tall girl stood frozen nearby, her lips trembling. "Y-Your Grace..."

The Duke didn't even look at her. He kept his eyes locked on Lydia. "Are you hurt?"

Lydia shook her head. Another tear spilled over. She aggressively wiped it away with the back of her hand, but another took its place. She bit her lip, fighting back a sob, and looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with grievance, terror, and something entirely indescribable—a mix of adoration and desperate reliance, like a drowning victim clinging to their savior.

The Duke stared into those eyes for a very long time. He said nothing, merely placing a protective hand on her shoulder to guide her away.

As he passed the three girls, his footsteps paused. He didn't spare them a glance, speaking only to his assistant trailing behind him. "I do not fund this institution to harbor students like this."

The tall girl's face was completely drained of blood. The other two kept their heads down, trembling violently, too terrified to utter a single sound.

The assistant nodded. "Understood, Your Grace."

The Duke escorted Lydia out of the library. The sun was blinding. Lydia squinted, instinctively raising a hand to shield her eyes. A sleek black sedan was already idling at the curb, its paint gleaming under the sun. The assistant rushed forward to open the door. The Duke gestured for her to enter first before sliding into the back seat beside her.

The door clicked shut. The cabin was perfectly silent, save for the low hum of the engine and the faint rush of traffic outside. Lydia sat in the leather seat, head bowed, her fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt. The tears had stopped, but her eyelashes were still damp, her nose tinted pink.

The Duke looked at her. "Where do you live?"