The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 499

Lawrence stared at him, falling into a prolonged silence. For several agonizing seconds, it felt as though half the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, leaving the air heavy and suffocating. Finally, he leaned back against the sofa, dropping his voice as if broaching a subject he detested even mentioning. "If you're not going to marry her, then make Lyra abort that child. Dragging this out isn't an option. The longer you wait, the worse it gets for the Lancaster family."

Christian frowned deeply. He looked at his father. Lawrence's face was practically completely devoid of emotion, yet there was a glint in his eyes that Christian knew all too well—calculation. He had grown up seeing that exact look. He saw it at negotiation tables, in boardrooms, and at every critical crossroads where the Lancaster family had to make a ruthless decision. But he never imagined he'd be on the receiving end of that look when it came to his own marriage.

"I have an old associate whose daughter is returning to the country next month," Lawrence continued, his tone suddenly turning casual, as if discussing the weather. "She's an Ivy League graduate, worked on Wall Street for years as an investment banker, and handled major portfolios. She's coming back to expand her career, which makes this the perfect time to get acquainted. Meet with her. Put everything else on hold for now."

Christian's expression instantly darkened. It wasn't a gradual shift—it was a sudden, violent freeze, like someone had hurled a bucket of ice water directly at his face. His jaw locked tight, a muscle ticking violently near his temple.

"Dad, is my life just about marriage?" His voice wasn't loud, but every word sounded like it was squeezed through gritted teeth. "Evelyn Sullivan was forced on me, and I married her. We divorced. Then, because of public opinion, I was forced to get engaged to Lyra Langford. Now that Lyra is out of the picture, you're arranging someone else. What am I to you? Just a pawn in your game?"

Lawrence's expression shifted. It wasn't the flushed red of explosive rage, but a chilling, pale fury. He stood up, his leather shoes silent against the carpet, and walked over to tower above Christian. The office was dead silent, the air so still they could hear each other breathe.

"And whose fault is that?" Lawrence's voice remained low, yet every syllable slammed into Christian's chest like a sledgehammer. "It's your own damn fault. You're the heir to this empire. You know exactly what state the Lancaster Group is in under your leadership. Do you have any idea how much the stock has plummeted? How many billions in market cap have evaporated? Are you entirely oblivious to how the board looks at you? And you have the nerve to play the victim?"

Christian looked up, meeting his father's gaze. The floor lamp hit Lawrence from the side, plunging half his face into bright light and the other into deep shadow. He had known this face for over thirty years. He knew every line, every grimace. But right now, the emotion swirling in his father's eyes was completely foreign to him. It wasn't anger. It wasn't disappointment. It was an undefinable coldness. He looked at Christian not like a son, but like a stranger, or perhaps a defective product that had failed to meet expectations. There was scrutiny. There was hesitation. And there was a chilling, inexplicable distance.

"If it weren't for..." Lawrence started, his voice barely a rasp, as if the words were being forcefully wrenched from his throat. He stopped abruptly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Christian stared at him intensely. "If it weren't for what?"

Lawrence didn't finish his sentence. He simply looked at Christian, holding his gaze for an uncomfortably long time. A dark undercurrent churned beneath his eyes—ripples on the surface, masking a bottomless abyss. His hands hung at his sides, his fingers twitching into a half-fist before slowly relaxing. Without another word, he broke eye contact, turned, and walked toward the door. He paused after a few steps, refusing to look back.