The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 84

Lydia let out a scoff, her voice dripping with undisguised contempt and calculation. "Like him? Of course, Christian is a great catch. But look, first of all, I just can't stand Evelyn's holier-than-thou attitude. Just looking at her makes me sick! And secondly..."

She paused, lowering her voice, though it only made the words carry more clearly to Lyra's ears on the other side of the door. "It's not a done deal that Lyra will actually become Mrs. Lancaster. Those years she spent abroad... do you really think she was just purely dancing and raising a kid? Mom and Dad are pinning all their hopes on her, praying she secures the Lancaster family. But what if she fails? What if the Lancasters simply refuse to accept her?"

"Are you saying..." Chloe seemed to catch on.

"I'm saying," Lydia's tone grew breezy, yet underlaid with a chilling ruthlessness, "by taking down Evelyn for her, I did her a massive favor. If she actually secures the ring, she'll owe me big time. But if she blows it... well, maybe the opportunity will fall to someone else. Christian can't stay single forever, right? When the time comes, Mom and Dad will realize who the more sensible, useful daughter actually is."

Outside the door, Lyra's body locked up, her blood turning to ice in her veins. She widened her eyes in sheer disbelief, her manicured nails digging so hard into her soft palms that they nearly broke skin, yet she felt no physical pain.

So... that was it!

Her supposed sweet little sister, who seemed to rely on her and hang on her every word, had been harboring these kinds of thoughts all along! Using Lyra's hands to clear the obstacles, all while secretly coveting her position, completely ready to usurp her! All those affectionate reassurances, all that seemingly innocent support—it was all built on cold-blooded calculation!

Anger, a freezing chill, and the sharp agony of being stabbed in the back by her own flesh and blood swallowed her whole. She had always thought Lydia was just a bit spoiled, vain, and stubborn. But a sister was still a sister. Only now did she realize that in the face of greed and ambition, blood ties were laughably fragile.

Inside the room, the two girls had already shifted topics, discussing the latest designer bags and weekend parties as if that bone-chilling conversation had never happened.

Lyra slowly straightened her posture and stepped away from the door. Her face was ashen, drained of all color. Her lips were pressed tight, and her usually soft, watery eyes were now void of anything but a terrifying coldness and the dead calm of a passing hurricane.

She didn't knock. She didn't storm in and rip her sister's face off.

She simply turned around and padded silently down the stairs, her back rigid, radiating a heavy, suffocating aura of frost.

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