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5. SWEET SCENT OF PINE AND FLOUR

作者: Frya Isaac
last update 公開日: 2026-03-11 04:56:59

"More pancakes, Ly? You're eating for two now, remember!"

Jessica Sterling, Noah's older sister, beamed as she slid another golden-brown pancake onto Lydia's plate. Jessica was a whirlwind of energy—bright-eyed, kind, and completely unimpressed by the high-society world Lydia had just fled. To Jessica, Lydia wasn't a billionaire's runaway wife; she was the girl who used to help her tie her shoelaces.

Lydia felt a lump in her throat as she looked around the sun-drenched kitchen. "Thank you, Jess
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コメント (2)
goodnovel comment avatar
agz471
Exactly! He's only going to treat her the same as he had the last 3 years...only doing it because his father will take away the company...
goodnovel comment avatar
Lilys
Ridiculous.. He had been distant and cold towards his ex wife for 3 years while cheating on her with his mistress yet now he became possessive? What rights did he had when they were already divorced, just as he wanted ?
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    The heavy, metallic scent of aviation fuel vanished the moment the pressure seal on the Gulfstream G650ER finalized its lock. Behind them lay New York City—a sprawling grid of concrete, corporate warfare, and the newly smoking ruins of the Sterling and Thorne dynasties. In front of them lay nothing but the vast, uninterrupted blue of the Indian Ocean. Lydia Hart sank into the cream leather executive seat, letting out a breath she felt like she had been holding for five years. The tailored gray silk dresses and sharp blazers of Manhattan had been replaced by a soft, oversized white cashmere sweater and silk trousers. Yet, her hands still trembled slightly as she reached for the crystal flute of sparkling water on the console. "You are still mapping out the logistics for the quarterly extraction reports, aren't you?" Adrian Wolfe’s deep, gravelly baritone rumbled from across the wide cabin aisle. He had already shed his armor. His custom Brioni suit jackets were tucked away in th

  • Reclaiming the Love We Lost   193. The Sovereign Sanctuary

    Without another word, Vanessa Sinclair turned on her designer heels, her elegant silhouette gliding out of the boardroom doors without a single backward glance at her former partner. Julian Thorne was still on his knees, his hands trembling as he looked up at Lydia, tears of pure terror leaking from his eyes. "Lydia... please... my children... the Thorne legacy... it will all be gone..." Lydia picked up her matte-black portfolio, tucking the silver flash drive securely inside the inner pocket. She looked down at Julian Thorne one last time, her expression completely detached from any trace of human mercy. "Marcus," Lydia called out smoothly. Marcus stepped inside the room instantly. "Yes, Mrs. Wolfe?" "Call the United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York," Lydia commanded, her voice echoing off the glass walls with a chilling finality. "Tell them the Hart Estate has just received comprehensive evidence of systemic corporate fraud, tax evasion, and racketeer

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    The investors didn't wait. Sensing the absolute lack of leverage, Richard Vance grabbed the restructuring document and practically ran toward the exit, followed closely by a frantic stampede of old-money billionaires who were suddenly realizing that the old rules of Manhattan no longer applied. Within ninety seconds, the grand boardroom had emptied out, leaving only a few scattered papers, spilled coffee, and three people remaining at the table. Lydia. Adrian. And Julian Thorne, who sat paralyzed at the far end of the table. "Lydia... please," Julian whispered, his arrogance completely shattered. He slid out of his chair, his knees trembling violently as he walked down the length of the thirty-foot table toward her. He looked older now, the sharp lines of his face sagging under the weight of an impending financial ruin. "You can't do this to the Thorne family. Your father and I... we built the first deep-water port in Brooklyn together. We were brothers." "You were a parasite,

  • Reclaiming the Love We Lost   191. The Plenary Reckoning

    The whispering inside the massive boardroom ceased instantly. A dozen heads turned in unison—men in tailored charcoal suits, billionaires who controlled global shipping lanes, and old-money power brokers who had ruled Manhattan for decades. At the far end of the thirty-foot quartz table sat Julian Thorne, his silver hair unkempt, his tie slightly loosened, and his pale hands gripping a porcelain coffee cup as if it were a life raft. In the corner, draped in a cream Chanel tweed suit, sat Vanessa Sinclair, her legs crossed, her expression an unreadable mask of elite detachment. Adrian walked in first, his massive frame immediately dominating the room as he took his place at the head of the table. But he didn't sit down. He stood, resting his palms on the pristine quartz surface, looking down at his board like a judge preparing to read an indictment. "Gentlemen," Adrian announced, his voice vibrating through the reinforced glass walls. "And uninvited guests. I believe you’ve all b

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    The synchronized hum of the private executive elevator inside Wolfe Tower was the only sound separating the chaotic triumph of Foley Square from the ruthless battleground of the eighty-fifth floor. When the polished chrome doors slid open, the air changed instantly. It was cold, thin, and saturated with the scent of high-grade marble, expensive espresso, and the distinct, electric tension of a board of directors on the brink of an absolute mutiny. Lydia Hart stepped out first. The charcoal-gray silk dress she had worn to the family court still held its razor-sharp lines, but the cream coat was now draped casually over her arm, revealing the full, unyielding posture of a woman who had just survived an execution and walked away with the executioner’s axe. In her right hand, she carried a slim, matte-black leather portfolio. Inside it weren't just legal briefs; it held the certified court order validating her absolute, exclusive ownership of the Hart Lithium Patents—the single mos

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    "No! No! This is a mistake! You can't do this to me!" The sudden, high-pitched, and completely hysterical scream erupted from the defense table, shattering the private sanctuary Adrian and Lydia had built in the center of the room. Jessica Sterling had completely lost her mind. She stood behind her chair, knocking it backward onto the floor with a loud, hollow crash. Her hands were wild, clawing at the air as she stared at the double doors at the side of the courtroom. The heavy mahogany barriers had just been pushed open, and four uniform officers from the New York Police Department, flanked by two stone-faced federal marshals in dark suits, marched directly into the room. Their heavy tactical boots clicked with an ominous, rhythmic precision against the marble borders of the floor. "Jessica Sterling," the lead federal marshal stated, his voice completely devoid of emotion as he pulled a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his tactical belt. "Pursuant to a federal warrant i

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    Adrian groaned as the morning light sliced through the penthouse. Too bright. Too sharp. It drilled straight into his skull, where the ache pulsed—slow, relentless—fed less by champagne and more by everything he refused to feel last night.He was sprawled across the velvet chaise longue, still in y

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    Adrian didn’t remember grabbing his keys. He didn’t remember the elevator ride. Didn’t remember the drive. Only the sound…Screech.His car came to a violent halt outside the clinic, tires burning against asphalt, engine still growling like it shared his fury. His heart pounded.Too fast.Too hard.

  • Reclaiming the Love We Lost   31. THE REASON

    Vanessa didn’t wait. She never did.The moment Adrian stepped into the penthouse, she was already there—standing in the middle of the living room like a storm that had been waiting to break. “You went to her.” No greeting. No pretense. Just accusation.Adrian didn’t even bother taking off his coa

  • Reclaiming the Love We Lost   28. SEEING THEM

    Adrian pushed the door open and the world stopped.There she was.Lydia. Propped against white pillows under soft, dim light, her skin pale with exhaustion—but glowing with something stronger than it. Strands of damp hair clung to her face, her lips parted slightly as she breathed through the afte

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