Chapter 342
But when he saw who it was, Mitchell froze. His face twisted as if he’d just bitten into something foul.
“Why is it you?” Mitchell’s eyes darkened, his voice cold.
Lyman smirked at him. “Looks like you haven’t been busy enough lately, since you’ve got the nerve to make a move on my wife.”
Mitchell suddenly understood everything.
“You’re despicable! You used Effie’s phone to message me, didn’t you?” Mitchell spat out the words, jaw clenched.
Lyman regarded him with a look of mild contempt. Even now, Mitchell was fixated on the wrong thing-how utterly foolish.
No wonder his company had started spiraling the moment Effie left. Without her, it was unlikely the business would have ever gotten off the ground in the first place.
Back when that tiny agency started gaining traction-enough to compete with the Etheridge Group’s design department-Lyman had actually admired them. It took him a while to realize that what he’d really admired was Effie, not the others.
In the early days, Effie had been a force of nature, helping the company rise fast. Maybe Mitchell saw her strength as a threat; he’d used a few tricks to push her out of the spotlight, keeping her behind the scenes. That’s when things began to unravel at the company, but Mitchell had been too blind to see it.
Now, with Effie gone, Lyman could crush Mitchell’s business with a single finger. He turned to Mitchell. “I’m warning you. Effie is my wife—”
Before Lyman could finish, Mitchell charged at him, shouting, “No! Effie belongs to me-she always has! You’re the one who stole her! After all these years together, you think she’d just walk away? She’s only upset with me right now-that’s all! You’re just a rebound! One day she’ll realize how she feels and come back to me
He didn’t get to finish. Lyman’s fist crashed into his jaw, snapping his head sideways. The sharp taste of blood flooded Mitchell’s mouth.
Damn Lyman-he didn’t hold back at all!
Fine. If that’s how he wanted it, Mitchell wouldn’t hold back either.
“Damn it! kill you!” Mitchell yelled
the punch of his own. H d to believe he’d lose en et
a black belt, after all.
was
At first, Mitchell managed to block a few of Lyman’s hits, but it didn’t last. Lyman was too fast, too well-rounded; he was quick, and he knew how to defend. Mitchell had gone all out from the start, and his strength faded fast. Soon, he was exhausted, barely managing to defend himself as Lyman knocked him to the ground.
What stung most was that Lyman stood over him, completely unscathed.
Just then, Effie stepped out from the shadows. “Are you alright?” she asked. Mitchell’s heart leapt she still cared about him!
But his hope died as he realized she wasn’t looking at him at all. Effie walked right past him—straight to Lyman.
She glanced at Lyman’s hand,
concern etched on her face. Gently,
she lifted his hand and examined it.
“You hit him so hard-your knuckles are red. Does it hurt?” she
murmured, her voice tender.
After all, every action has an equal reaction. If Lyman hit Mitchell that hard, it must have hurt him too.
She didn’t spare Mitchell a single glance her whole focus was on Lyman.
Lyman basked in her concern, his pride thoroughly satisfied.
“Effie…”