Chapter 109
Isabel had hoped Lyman would stay with her, maybe at least offer a few words of comfort. But his manner remained distant and cold as ever.
“Lyman, could you… could you stay with me for a little while?” Her voice trembled with a pleading note, her eyes full of expectation.
Lyman’s expression didn’t waver. His tone stayed as detached as before.
“I have things to take care of. The security team will be here soon, so you don’t need to worry.”
With that, he turned to leave.
Panic flashed in Isabel’s eyes. She hurried forward and grabbed his sleeve.
“Lyman, I… I’m really scared. Can you just-“”
He stopped, glancing down at her hand. There was a trace of impatience in his voice. “Isabel, that’s enough.”
Her hand trembled, and she let go of his sleeve.
Color drained from Isabel’s face. Disappointment and hurt flickered in her eyes.
Lyman didn’t look back. He walked straight out of the room.
Carole quickly came over to comfort her.
“Isabel, Mr. Etheridge already arranged for security. Try not to worry, alright?”
But Isabel didn’t seem to hear her at all. She just stared blankly at the spot where
Lyman had disappeared, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.
“Why… why is he always like this…” she whispered bitterly.
Carole sighed and lightly patted her shoulder.
“Try not to think about it too much. Just get some rest, okay?”
Isabel didn’t answer. She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
If that’s how it is, she thought grimly, then don’t blame me.
Effie, do you really think you’ve won?
Just wait this is far from over.
Meanwhile, Lyman slid into the back seat of his car. The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Home, sir?”
Lyman checked the time-it was already late-then nodded.
He’d sent one of his managers to handle the evening’s business dinner.
Leaning back against the seat, Lyman closed his eyes, but Effie’s face drifted unbidden into his thoughts.
A faint smile curled at his lips. He’d never realized how much he wanted to get home.
He used to be a workaholic, clocking well over eighteen hours a day. But now, as soon as the workday ended, he couldn’t wait to leave the office-because someone was waiting for him at home.
“Step on it,” he murmured.
“Yes, Mr. Etheridge.” The driver pressed on the accelerator.
When Lyman arrived home, Effie was curled up on the couch, waiting for him.
She stood as soon as he walked in. “You’re back early! Didn’t you have a dinner tonight?” she asked, her eyes warm and gentle.
He reached out and pulled her into his arms, a hint of affection softening his voice. “I sent someone else instead.”
Effie buried herself in his embrace, but suddenly a faint scent caught her attention —a kind of body wash, but not the one they used at home.
For a moment, she froze, an uneasy feeling flickering in her chest.
“What’s wrong?” Lyman asked, noticing her silence.
“Nothing. I already ate, but do you want me to make you some pasta?” she offered.
A smile flashed in his eyes. “Sure. Thank you.”
Effie headed to the kitchen. Luckily, there were still some fresh vegetables and eggs in the fridge.
Since it was late and they didn’t want anything heavy, she made a simple pasta with greens and eggs.
Effie’s cooking was decent-her grandmother had always worried she wouldn’t know how to take care of herself, so she’d taught Effie how to cook from a young age. Effie turned out to be a quick learner.
Before long, she emerged from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of noodles.