Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 7

Empty

Lydia POV

That afternoon, the house was unusually empty.

Not empty empty.

Just… scattered.

The cleaners were somewhere in the far wing doing whatever rich people’s staff did in corners of houses no one actually lived in. 1

Bernard had gone out to restock household supplies.

Even the cook had disappeared into whatever kitchen dimension produced my meals on time and without emotional damage. 1

So it was just me in the living room.

Curled into one side of the massive cream sofa in an oversized T–shirt and shorts, binge–watching a Korean drama I had clicked on by accident and gotten emotionally trapped inside.

I didn’t even know the title anymore.

All I knew was that the male lead had spent the last twelve episodes acting emotionally constipated, and he was finally, finally leaning in to kiss the girl.

I sat forward automatically. 1

“Oh, if this man backs away now, I’ll scream,” I muttered.

He leaned closer.

She closed her eyes.

And just then, I heard the front door open.

I frowned but didn’t turn immediately.

Bernard, I assumed.

He was the only one who came and went with enough quiet confidence to open the door like he paid mortgage

there.

So I ignored it and kept my eyes on the screen.

The male lead tilted his head.

The female lead’s lips parted.

Then I heard it.

Heels.

Sharp.

Steady.

1/7

+15 8gnus

Expensive.

Crick.

Click.

Click.

That was not Bernard.

I turned.

And froze.

A woman stood in the middle of the living room like she had been dropped there by a luxury brand campaign.

Tall.

Lean.

Beautiful in a way that looked professionally maintained.

She wore oversized sunglasses even though she was indoors, a fitted beige two–piece that probably cost more than my entire semester wardrobe in university, and heels sharp enough to stab through dignity.

One designer bag hung loosely from her wrist.

Her hair fell in perfect dark waves over one shoulder.

She looked less like a guest and more like the kind of woman who expected buildings to rearrange themselves when she entered them.

She stopped when she saw me.

Her gaze moved over me once.

Slowly.

Dismissive.

From my face, to my bare legs, to my T–shirt, to the throw blanket beside me.

Then she looked away.

Just like that.

Like I had already been assessed and filed under irrelevant.

My brows lifted.

Well.

That was rude.

I sat up straighter.

“Hi,” I said. “Who are you?”

She took off her sunglasses with the kind of precision that felt insulting.

2/7

ོ་།

+15 8çnus

Then she looked at me fully for the first time.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because there was no uncertainty in her expression.

No hesitation.

No polite confusion over seeing another woman in a place she clearly knew well.

She looked at me like she had already decided I was temporary.

“Someone important,” she said.

Then she walked past me.

Just like that.

I stared after her.

Excuse me?

My first thought was:

Dave has a sister?

My second thought was:

If that is his sister, she has the manners of an armed robber.

She was already halfway to the staircase when I stood.

“Wait,” I called after her.

She didn’t.

Not even a pause.

Not even a glance back.

She just kept walking upstairs in those impossible heels like she had every right in the world to be there.

I stood in the middle of the living room in my house shorts and emotional confusion, watching this woman climb the stairs like I was the intruder.

Then she disappeared upstairs.

I remained there for a second longer than necessary.

Then two.

Then five.

My heartbeat had picked up, not because I was intimidated exactly, but because there was something about her face that was bothering me.

She looked familiar.

Very familiar.

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+15 Bonus

Like I had seen her before.

a screen maybe.

A magazine cover.

Social media.

A fashion campaign.

But before I could chase the thought properly, the front door opened again.

This time it was Bernard.

He walked in carrying two paper bags and paused when he saw me standing there like I had just witnessed a robbery.

“Yes, madam?”

I know more than I’m willing to say.

“No.”

Long enough for unease to settle properly under my skin.

Then I heard it.

Fast footsteps.

5/7

Sharp.

Annoyed.

Coming downstairs with enough force to qualify as a warning.

And then-

“Bernard!”

I looked up just as Cyn appeared at the bottom of the stairs like a very expensive storm.

Gone were the sunglasses.

Gone was the smooth indifference.

Now she looked irritated.

Like the house had personally failed her.

“Bernard, where are you?” she snapped.

He appeared almost instantly, because apparently rich women with attitude summoned staff faster.

“Yes, Miss Cyn?”

She gestured toward the staircase with one manicured hand.

“Why hasn’t my baby’s room been cleaned?”

I went still.

My what now?

Bernard, to his credit, did not even blink.

“Young master instructed that no one is to enter his room in his absence, miss.”

Cyn stared at him.

Then laughed once, short and disbelieving.

“I’m here now.”

Silence.

She tilted her head.

“Clean it.”

Bernard hesitated.

Just slightly. 1

+15 8çnus

And in that hesitation, something cold slid into my stomach.

Because that was not the hesitation of staff dealing with a random guest. 1

That was the hesitation of staff dealing with someone who had authority they were not supposed to discuss.

6/7

“I want to rest there,” she added.

Rest there.

In his room.

Not the guest room.

Not the lounge.

Not the upstairs sitting room.

His room.

I sat very still on the couch.

My expression stayed neutral.

Mostly because I did not trust my face not to embarrass me.

Did she just call Dave my baby?

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