Chapter 141
Effie smiled, letting the conversation drop.
Her gaze drifted toward Lyman and Mr. Smith.
Lyman stood out effortlessly—a man who drew the eye wherever he went. Amid the crowd, he looked striking in his crisp white golf shirt, posture straight and confident. There was a natural grace to his every movement, a quiet authority that seemed both refined and unapproachable.
Beside him, Mr. Smith wore a practiced, worldly smile, the kind that suggested he’d seen every side of a deal.
As they talked, Lyman’s expression remained composed and aloof, nodding occasionally but always keeping a certain distance, as if he existed in a world just out of reach.
Effie looked away, a knot of conflicted emotions tightening inside her.
Their marriage had always been a transaction-an arrangement where each got what they needed. Lyman required her presence to keep his family satisfied, while she needed his influence for protection and security.
Had she agreed out of a sense of defiance, too? Maybe.
But over time, Lyman’s quiet warmth, his thoughtfulness and unwavering respect, had started to wear down her resolve. He made it hard to remember why she’d kept her guard up in the first place.
Then Mrs. Smith’s words cut through her thoughts like a bucket of cold water, a reminder of the harsh truths behind marriages like theirs.
“Mrs. Etheridge, are you alright?” Mrs. Smith’s gentle voice pulled her back.
Effie blinked, then offered a soft smile. “Sorry, I drifted off for a moment.”
Mrs. Smith gave her a knowing look. “Ah, to be young-you still have endless possibilities ahead. I, on the other hand, feel like this marriage has trapped me for good.”
Effie glanced at her, her voice gentle. “It’s never too late to choose yourself. There’s always a way.”
Mrs. Smith’s smile turned wistful. “If only it were that easy. There’s too much at stake—children, family, reputation…” She shook her head. “But enough about that. No point in dampening the mood. Looks like they’ve finished up over there. I hope the contract negotiations go smoothly.”
Effie gave a modest laugh. “Honestly, I don’t understand much about business.”
A flash of shrewdness appeared in Mrs. Smith’s eyes. “Mr. Etheridge really dotes on you. He won’t even let you worry about these things.”
Effie smiled but said nothing.
Just then, Lyman started toward them, his gaze softening when it settled on Effie. There was a focus in his eyes, a quiet tenderness he reserved only for her.
“All done talking?” he asked in a low voice.
Effie nodded. “Yes, I was just about to come find you.”
Lyman inclined his head politely to Mrs. Smith. “Excuse us, Mrs. Smith.”
Mrs. Smith quickly returned his smile. “Of course, Mr. Etheridge. Don’t mind me.”
It seemed the negotiations were coming to a close.
Lyman took Effie’s hand with an easy familiarity, leading her away for a stroll.
The grounds here were lovely-a rare chance to relax.
“Tired?” Lyman asked quietly, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand.
Effie shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Good. Let’s walk a little then.”
As they wandered off, Mrs. Smith’s expression dimmed.
She turned to see Mr. Smith, who was also watching Lyman and Effie’s retreating figures, a thoughtful look on his face.
Mrs. Smith let out a dry chuckle, then said, “If you’re thinking of anything reckless,
I’d suggest you stop right now. Mr. and Mrs. Etheridge have a strong relationship.
If Mr. Etheridge catches wind of you coveting his wife, you can kiss this partnership goodbye.”
Her tone was pointed.
Mr. Smith snorted, clearly annoyed. “I don’t need your warnings. Just mind your own business. Stay out of mine.”
He was frustrated, his irritation betraying that she’d hit a nerve.
After all, wealth had always brought him whatever women he wanted. Actresses, dancers-they’d all come to him, hoping he’d give them a leg up, make them famous.
But Mr. Smith had a cruel streak. The easier something came to him, the less he valued it.
Still, he knew the boundaries. As beautiful as Effie was, she was Lyman’s wife- and the wife of a key business partner.
Even he had to be cautious.