Chapter 283
Lyman stepped out of the apartment with another man just as a woman hurried toward them.
“Mr. Fenton.”
Jen Ames planted herself squarely in Fenton’s path, exuding an air of authority. She pulled out a bank card and held it out to him. “Mr. Fenton, represent me in court. Every cent of the hundred million on this card is yours.”
Jen looked at Fenton with absolute confidence-who could possibly turn down that kind of money?
Fenton arched an eyebrow. Rather than accepting right away, he glanced over at Lyman.
Lyman said nothing, simply gazing back at Fenton, unwavering.
Only then did Jen notice Lyman standing beside him.
The second her eyes landed on Lyman, her expression darkened and the confident smile vanished from her face.
Without hesitation, she slipped the card back into her purse. “I understand,” she said crisply.
With that, Jen spun on her heel and strode away.
She was alone, yet the force of her presence made it feel as if an army marched behind her, her aura unmistakable.
Fenton turned to Lyman, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “You saw that, right? I just threw away a hundred million dollars for you.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Lyman replied.
Fenton’s smile widened. “Excellent.”
“Let’s go check on your wife first.”
At the mention of Effie, Lyman’s expression grew somber.
He’d never been this worried-not until now.
They arrived at the police station just in time to witness Mitchell, thoroughly drunk, being dragged out by two officers and dumped unceremoniously onto the steps.
Mitchell landed right at Lyman’s feet.
Lyman stopped.
Sensing someone’s presence, Mitchell looked up and locked eyes with Lyman. His gaze hardened, his voice cold. “You never really loved Effie. Why can’t you just let her go?”
Lyman couldn’t be bothered to respond. He moved to step around Mitchell and head inside.
But Mitchell latched onto Lyman’s ankle, shouting, “I’m the only one who can save Effie now-I know Director Nichols, did you know that?”
Lyman shook off his grip and strode toward the station entrance.
Fenton called out after him, teasing, “Hey, the guy knows Director Nichols. Maybe you should just hand your wife over to him-then you wouldn’t have to deal with all the Etheridge family headaches.”
Lyman’s troubles with his extended family had only escalated since Effie ran afoul of the Ames family. Healy Etheridge, the family’s second son, and Fowler Etheridge, the third, had both come to see Lyman, urging him not to risk the empire the Etheridge family had spent years building for the sake of a single woman.
“The Ames family’s influence is overwhelming they have their hands in everything, legal or not. If you really cross them, they’ll make it impossible for us to do business,” Healy warned.
“Exactly. We can’t let one bad apple spoil everything for us,” Fowler chimed in quickly.
Lyman shot them a cold look. “Uncle Healy, Uncle Fowler, Effie is my wife. I have
a legal and moral duty to look after her for the rest of my life.”
“She brought this on herself-she should face the consequences,” Fowler snapped.
“Then we’ll face them together,” Lyman replied, voice steely and resolute.
Healy’s jaw clenched so hard it looked like he might break a tooth. “Face them together? What are you going to do-risk half of Etheridge Group for her? If our company takes a hit, we’ll be vulnerable on every side. The competition will crush us like ants!”
“Enough!”
At that moment, Bancroft Etheridge, supported by Lindy, made his slow but dignified way over to join them.