The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 77

The black sedan pulled up smoothly outside the grandiose wrought-iron gates of The Lancaster Estate.

Evelyn pushed the car door open. The cool morning air rushed over her, carrying the crisp, earthy scent unique to the estate's sprawling gardens. She stood up straight, smoothed the lapels of her coat, and thoroughly wiped away the last traces of exhaustion from her face, replacing it with her signature mask of calm.

"I'll wait in the car," Madeline said, rolling down the window. Her tone was even, though her eyes offered silent solidarity. "If you need me, just say the word."

"I will," Evelyn nodded, turning toward the massive doors she had walked through countless times before, yet never once truly felt like she was coming home.

Arthur, the butler, was already waiting at the entrance. At the sight of her, a wave of profound relief washed over his features, though his eyes were conflicted, as if he wanted to say more. "Mrs. Lancaster, you've arrived. Mr. Lancaster is waiting for you in his study." He stepped aside to lead the way, pausing slightly to lower his voice. "The young master... is also home, and he seems to be in a foul mood."

Evelyn didn't break her stride, merely offering a faint "Mhm" in acknowledgment. What did Christian's mood have to do with her?

As she navigated the familiar courtyard and strolled down the corridor lined with expensive paintings, she spotted the study door slightly ajar. Evelyn was just raising her hand to knock when an arm shot out from around the corner, grabbing her wrist with a brutal, wrenching force!

"Evelyn!"

It was blatantly a candid shot, the resolution slightly grainy. The backdrop was a dimly lit hotel corridor. In the photo, a tall, broad-shouldered man was carrying a woman in his arms. The woman was wearing a pale-moonlight silk dress—the exact outfit she had worn last night. Her face was mostly buried in the man's chest, obscuring her expression, but the visible sliver of her profile was flushed an unnatural red. One of her hands weakly clutched the lapel of his shirt, and her entire posture was soft, heavily reliant, practically molded to his frame.

The man's face was cleverly cropped out, leaving only a razor-sharp jawline and a partial silhouette. But Evelyn instantly recognized the dark-gray suit jacket, and those steady, powerful arms holding her. It was Sebastian.

Her heart gave a violent lurch—not out of guilt, but from a chilling surge of fury at being stalked and set up. Who took this photo? When was it taken? Lydia? One of Caleb's goons? Or... someone else entirely?