The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 480

Paris, The Shangri-La Hotel.

Mid-afternoon sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, slicing a blindingly bright rectangle across the plush carpet. Sebastian stood in the elevator, a sleek black mask covering the lower half of his face. His left eye was still horribly swollen, but with the mask on, only the bruised, purple skin around his eye and the white gauze on his forehead were visible. Standing half a step behind him, Lance Sterling clutched a leather briefcase, shooting his boss covert glances through the mirrored elevator walls. The physical damage was mostly hidden, but the sheer, suffocating aura radiating from him was impossible to mask—spine perfectly straight, jaw set. He was every inch the ruthless head of the Thorne family in San Francisco.

The elevator chimed. The doors glided open to reveal a corridor lined with thick, sound-absorbing carpet. Lance trailed his boss until they stopped outside Suite 1818. Sebastian raised a hand and knocked three times, a measured, authoritative rhythm.

The door swung inward. Julian St. Claire stood in the entryway, dressed in a sharp navy-blue button-down, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, tie discarded. Taking in the mask covering Sebastian's face, a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of Julian's mouth.

"Mr. Thorne, wearing a mask to a business meeting? Afraid I might recognize you?"

Sebastian met his gaze with absolute silence. Reaching up, he unhooked the mask, exposing the full extent of the damage—the left eye swollen into a narrow slit, the crusted split on his lip, the mottled purplish-black bruising across his cheekbones, and the stark white gauze plastered over his temple.

Julian's eyes flicked over the injuries for a fraction of a second before his smile deepened. "Well, Mr. Thorne, it seems being the prospective grandson-in-law to a global tycoon like Charles isn't a walk in the park."

Sebastian remained expressionless. "Let's get down to business, Julian."

Julian stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. The atmosphere between them wasn't hostile, but it was far from warm. They weren't friends, nor were they eager partners; they were simply two men forced to sit at the same table by a mutual enemy.

The suite was expansive, featuring a lavish outer living room separated from an inner private lounge by a decorative partition. In the lounge sat a dark mahogany coffee table flanked by heavy armchairs. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting narrow beams of sunlight spill across the floor. Julian motioned for Sebastian to sit, then walked over to a sideboard where he began preparing a pour-over coffee. His movements were unhurried, perfectly measuring the grounds and the hot water, like a man who had performed the exact ritual a thousand times.

Sebastian settled into an armchair, with Lance standing rigid like a sentinel behind him. Julian flipped open his laptop, pivoting the screen toward Sebastian. "Take a look at this first."