Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 222

Not soldiers

Lydia POV

Which technically?

She kind of did.

Even almost retired, that woman still carried power like perfume.

Elegant.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

The moment she saw me, she smiled warmly.

“Lydia.”.

“Madam Eloise.”

I walked toward her carefully.

Immediately suspicious.

Because elderly women who smiled calmly before 8 a.m. were usually planning emotional violence.

She gestured for me to sit.

And the moment I did, she crossed her legs gracefully before speaking.

“I’ve been hearing about everything happening between you and your ex husband.”

Ah.

There it is.

Dave.

Of course.

Honestly I should have known immediately.

At this point that man was becoming a recurring emotional infection in my life.

I leaned back slowly.

“Madame Eloise…”

“No no,” she interrupted gently. “Let me talk first.”

Dangerous sentence.

Very dangerous sentence.

I stayed quiet.

She studied me carefully for a few seconds first.

And suddenly her expression softened.

Not pity.

Something warmer.

Prouder.

“You handled this situation beautifully.’

I blinked slightly.

“You raised those children wonderfully.”

My chest tightened unexpectedly.

“You built your career. You protected your children. You survived embarrassment, heartbreak, public scrutiny and emotional abandonment without becoming bitter.”

I looked away briefly because compliments from Madame Eloise always felt heavier than compliments from other people.

That woman did not praise easily.

“You did well, Lydia.”

Softly now.

“With everything.”

And honestly?

That nearly broke me more than criticism would have.

Because sometimes strong women get so used to surviving that kindness catches them off guard.

I swallowed once before answering quietly.

“Thank you.”

She smiled gently.

Then unfortunately continued.

“However…”

Ah.

There it is.

I knew peace would not last.

She folded her hands neatly.

“What Dave did was terrible.”

Very motherly tone.

Calm but devastating.

“That boy behaved like a foolish child.”

Correct.

Accurate.

Continue.

“But,” she continued carefully, “I also knew his grandmother very well.”

I sighed internally.

Of course she did.

“Your marriage was arranged with hope,” she said softly. “Not manipulation. His grandmother genuinely believed you were the kind of woman capable of balancing him.”

“That sounds exhausting for me.”

“It was,” she agreed immediately.

I laughed despite myself.

And somehow that relaxed the atmosphere slightly.

Madame Eloise leaned forward now.

“I am not asking you to forget what happened.”

Good.

Because I absolutely would not.

“I am not even asking you to take him back.”

Better.

“But I am asking you to stop making every interaction a battlefield.”

I stayed quiet.

Because annoyingly?

There was truth there.

She watched me carefully.

“Lydia… do you know why your children are emotionally intelligent?”

I folded my arms slightly.

“Structure?”

“No.”

She smiled knowingly.

“Because despite everything, you never poisoned them emotionally.”

That landed quietly inside me.

“You allowed them form their own opinions. Even while hurting.”

Nooked down briefly.

Because honestly?

That part had been hard.

She smiled beautifully.

Terrifying woman.

Honestly terrifying.

Eventually the conversation shifted back toward work naturally.

Campaigns.

Clients.

PR structures.

Brand restructuring.

Business strategy.

Normalcy.

But even while discussing work, my brain kept replaying her words over and over again.

You are raising children, not soldiers.

And annoyingly?

I knew exactly why that sentence would stay with me for a very long time.

-----

Private apartment

Lydia POV

By midday, I had already made up my mind.

Honestly, once Madame Eloise speaks, your options reduce dramatically.

Not because she forces you.

Worse.

Because she says things that sit inside your head and start making sense against your will.

So the entire morning passed in a strange blur.

Meetings.

Client reviews.

Campaign approvals.

Media restructuring.

At some point somebody was passionately explaining brand positioning to me and I realized halfway through that

I had not absorbed a single word because my brain kept replaying:

You are raising children, not soldiers.

Very irritating woman.

By around 5 p.m., I finally decided I did not want to drag this conversation till another day.

If I postponed it longer, I would either lose the courage entirely or get angry again.

Neither option was productive.

So I messaged Dave.

Meet me at this address in thirty minutes.

I sent him the location of one of my private apartments instead of my house immediately after.

Deliberately.

Because absolutely not.

There was no universe where I was risking having this conversation inside my actual home.

Dave had a unique ability to irritate me emotionally within minutes and I already knew if this conversation escalated too badly, I would want him out immediately.

At least in the apartment, nobody was invading my personal space permanently.

Neutral ground.

Safe distance.

Professional environment.

Private dartment