The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 453

Sebastian watched her intently. "You want to confront her?"

Evelyn's frown deepened. "She's far too paranoid for a direct approach. If I just ask her to meet, her defenses will be up instantly. Casual conversation won't get her to slip. I need to manufacture a reason that forces her to initiate..." She trailed off, the rhythm of her fingers on the armrest becoming erratic, like she was trying to solve a complex puzzle in her head.

Seeing the crease between her brows, an overwhelming wave of affection crashed over Sebastian. He reached out, gently pressing his fingertips against her forehead to smooth out the tension. "Don't stress over it. We'll figure something out."

Evelyn froze and looked up. He was incredibly close—close enough that she could see her own reflection in his eyes. His hand was still resting against her forehead, radiating a comforting warmth. She didn't pull away, and he didn't pull back.

The gentle splash of the fountain hummed in the background, accompanied by the soft rustle of wind through the sycamore leaves. They simply looked at each other, wrapped in total silence. The sunlight filtered through the branches, casting a warm glow over them as their shadows merged onto the grass.

After a long moment, Evelyn was the first to break eye contact, looking down and pretending to smooth out the hem of her dress. Sebastian withdrew his hand, the tips of his ears burning slightly, and awkwardly pretended to admire the distant fountain.

The sudden vibration of a phone shattered the quiet.

Evelyn picked it up and glanced at the screen. The name displayed made her lips slowly curve upward. She held the phone up for Sebastian to see, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I was just wondering how to get her to talk. Speak of the devil."

Sebastian glanced at the screen—Lyra.

He frowned. "What does she want with you?"

Evelyn didn't answer. She opened the message. The text was brief, devoid of any greeting or pleasantries. It was as cold as the woman herself.

*Evelyn, Café de Flore by the Seine, tomorrow at 3 PM. We need to talk. Come or don't, it's up to you.*

Evelyn stared at the text for a long time. She noted that Lyra hadn't used "Dr. Sullivan" or "Ms. Sullivan"—just her first name. She wasn't even bothering to fake politeness anymore. A smile touched Evelyn's lips, faint but carrying a sharp, calculated edge in her eyes.