The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 582

HEC Paris. The cafeteria.

Lydia Langford carried her lunch tray and slid into a secluded seat by the window. Her tray held nothing but a small salad and a bowl of soup, which had long stopped steaming. She had zero appetite—it had been like this for days. Every bite of food made her nauseous, and even the smell of the cafeteria turned her stomach.

She hadn't been sitting for even two minutes when a blonde girl holding a coffee cup marched over and dropped into the seat directly across from her.

Camille.

She was one of the very few girls in her cohort who ever bothered speaking to her. But today, the smile plastered on Camille's face was entirely different—her lips were curled up, but her eyes were cold, sparkling with a mocking, knowing gleam.

"Eating this again today?" Camille eyed Lydia's tray, her tone dripping with exaggerated concern.

"I'm not hungry."

"You barely eat anything lately." Camille rested her chin on her hand, her gaze raking over Lydia from head to toe. "You've lost so much weight. And you look awful. Don't tell me you're sick?"

Lydia didn't reply, opting to push her salad around with her fork.

Camille didn't leave. She took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving Lydia's face.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" she suddenly asked.

Lydia's fingers stiffened. "...No."

"No?" Camille let out a sharp, grating laugh. "Then who's picking you up and dropping you off every single day? A sleek black sedan, a chauffeur in a tailored suit—the whole campus is talking about it."

The way she said 'the whole campus is talking about it' wasn't casual gossip. It was laced with malicious intent, practically screaming: Look at you, everyone knows you're faking it.

"A friend arranged it for me." Lydia kept her voice remarkably flat.

"A friend?" Camille tilted her head, her mocking smirk widening. "What kind of 'friend' treats you this well? Chauffeured rides every day, showering you with designer clothes—I noticed that coat you're wearing. That's this season's limited edition Dior, isn't it? You can't even buy that with just money."

Lydia stayed silent.

Camille's eyes did another sweep over her, this time carrying the predatory gleam of a hunter cornering its prey.

"Everyone in Paris knows exactly what kind of people live in those luxury apartments in The 16th District. You're just an international student with no prominent family background and no real connections, yet you're living in a place like that—"

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Lydia snapped, finally raising her head to glare at her.

Camille faltered for a second under the intense glare, but she quickly recovered her smug smile. It was the self-satisfied grin of someone who had finally hit a nerve.