The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 473

Lydia froze. "My move?"

"Yes, Miss. The car is waiting downstairs. Whenever you're ready, we can leave."

Lydia stepped aside to let him in. The man stepped into the cramped room, his eyes immediately sweeping over the dismal space—the half-packed suitcase sprawled on the floor, the pile of unfolded clothes, the half-eaten crust of bread, and the cup of stone-cold tea resting on the cheap desk. His gaze lingered on the table for a fraction of a second before quickly snapping away. Lydia noticed the judgment, but she swallowed her pride, saying absolutely nothing as she turned back to folding her clothes.

The man stood rigidly by the window. He didn't offer to help, nor did he rush her. He simply stood there, waiting in eerie silence. Lydia shoved the last of her clothes into the suitcase and yanked the zipper shut. The entire process took less than ten minutes. She grabbed her handbag and cast a fleeting glance over her shoulder. "I'm ready."

The man gave a curt nod, effortlessly grabbed the heavy suitcase, and led the way out. Lydia followed close behind, her eyes glued to his back. His gait was terrifyingly steady, every single stride perfectly measured, as if dictated by a ruler. She had never encountered people like this back home, but since arriving in France, she had seen plenty of them. The people surrounding the Duke were all identical—they didn't speak unnecessarily, they never smiled, and they executed their tasks with the cold, ruthless efficiency of machines.

The sleek car glided to a halt outside a magnificent apartment building. Stepping out onto the curb, Lydia tilted her head back to take in the imposing Haussmann-style architecture. Its cream-colored stone facade gleamed under the sun, accented by towering, elegant windows. A plush, dark red carpet cascaded down the entrance steps. The man carried her suitcase, walking slightly ahead of her. The concierge instantly rushed out from the lobby, snapping perfectly straight the moment he recognized the man. "Sir."

The man offered a single nod. "Third floor. The suite arranged by the Duke."