Chapter 6

Chapter 6

POV: Lyra

My gaze collided with Bill's sharp eyes. My throat tightened as the pain threatened to rise, but I immediately lifted my chin and drew a trembling breath, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. I couldn't reveal my first card to him just yet. I had to prepare a proper defense first.

"This... this isn't about me, Bill," I lied, my voice hoarse and raspy in the silence of the skyscraper's ground floor. I tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear, trying to piece together the fabricated story I had mentioned at the nightclub. "Like I told you yesterday... this is about a friend of mine. My poor friend is in a terrible predicament and needs your objective legal perspective."

Bill let out a quiet snort, one eyebrow arching high. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he knew when to stop pressing a woman who was clearly falling apart before him. He slipped one hand into the pocket of his expensive tailored trousers while using the other to support his opposite elbow.

"All right, Miss Lyra's Friend," Bill said, deliberately softening his sarcastic tone. "Let's pretend I believe your story. So, what specific kind of assistance is your 'friend' looking for from my law firm at this hour, past eight in the evening?"

I swallowed with difficulty, feeling an overwhelming bitterness at the back of my tongue.

"My friend just caught her husband having a serious affair with another woman behind her back. This isn't just some meaningless fling, Bill. There's video evidence recording her husband engaging in indecent acts with that woman during working hours, and the woman happens to be someone close to them whom they've always treated as family."

Bill listened to every word without interrupting. His strong jaw tightened, and his sharp gaze pierced through mine as though he were calculating every lie and every wound I was hiding behind those words.

"My friend's husband controls the entire business empire, which was originally built from the ground up, even though the substantial capital behind his success actually came from a secret foundation controlled by my friend herself," I continued, my voice trembling slightly as I struggled to keep it from breaking into sobs. "My friend wants to know what the most decisive legal action would be to bring that man's power down and reclaim all the company's assets under her own name without leaving any loopholes."

Bill remained silent for quite some time. The quiet lobby made our breathing clearly audible. He briefly shifted his gaze toward the large glass windows, which reflected the city lights, before looking directly at me again.

"Tell your friend this," Bill said in a deep, emphatic voice. "In the eyes of the law, whoever controls the original assets and the legitimate flow of funds has the strongest legal foundation. But emotions can become a double-edged sword. She must never make a move before gathering the ownership documents and proof of the flow of funds. If she acts recklessly now, that man could move the assets or turn the tables against her. Tell her to go home, clear her head, keep an eye on her husband's movements, and come see me again once she has valid written evidence in her hands."

I nodded slowly, taking in every word spoken by my childhood friend.

"Thank you, Bill... Thank you so much."

Shortly before midnight, my black sedan slowly entered the driveway of my house. The porch lights glowed dimly, casting a false warmth over a place that now felt like hell to me. I turned off the engine, took several deep breaths to compose my expression, then stepped out and carefully opened the front door.

However, the moment the door swung open, the fragrant aroma of warm chamomile tea immediately greeted my senses. In the family room, illuminated by the dim yellow glow of the chandelier, a man dressed in silk pajamas stood waiting for me with the most sincere smile in the world.

Casian.

"Darling? You're home late." Casian's deep voice sounded incredibly gentle and full of concern. He immediately strode toward me, took the handbag from my grasp, and carefully wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "I've been waiting for you. Your phone was unreachable for a little while, and I was so worried about you driving alone on the highway in the middle of the night just to take care of Jenny."

I froze in his embrace. My heart thundered violently, not because of love, but because an overwhelming wave of disgust was crawling up my throat. Just a few hours ago, the man now holding me so sweetly and attentively had been the very same man who had indulged in his vile desires in front of a phone screen with another woman. His disguise was utterly flawless.

"I'm sorry, my husband," I replied, deliberately making my voice as soft and gentle as possible, playing the role of an obedient, exhausted wife. "Jenny had a very high fever earlier, so I had to stay with her until she finally settled down."

Casian tenderly kissed the top of my head before guiding me to sit on the comfortable living room sofa. He promptly handed me a freshly brewed cup of warm tea, then knelt in front of me to gently massage my calves and ankles, which had grown stiff after a day of holding back my emotions.

"You must be exhausted, sweetheart. I'm such an idiot for falling asleep on the sofa while waiting for you to come home. I should have stayed awake so I could have accompanied you there," Casian said sincerely, gazing directly into my eyes without the slightest trace of guilt on his face. "Don't push yourself too hard taking care of other people tomorrow, okay? Your health and Calvin's are what matter most to me."

My tears nearly fell, not because I was touched, but because I was horrified by how skillfully Casian played the role of the perfect husband. This man was truly a cold-blooded actor.

The following morning, the sun shone brightly through the glass windows of our house. Casian showed no signs of being in a hurry to leave for work. Instead, he wore casual home clothes and carried Calvin on his shoulders, laughing heartily in the front yard as the mailman delivered a package. When our next-door neighbor passed by and greeted us, Casian confidently wrapped an arm around my waist in public, kissed my cheek in front of everyone, and proudly proclaimed how lucky he was to have a wife like me.

The affectionate display under the bright morning sun made my stomach churn. Every touch of his felt like a bloodsucking leech clinging to my skin.

My golden opportunity finally came shortly before noon. Casian suddenly received an important call from his company's head office. He had to rush out immediately to attend an emergency meeting with the board of directors, leaving the house in a hurry after kissing Calvin and me on the forehead.

As soon as the sound of Casian's car disappeared beyond the residential complex's gates, I sprang into action. I instructed the nanny to take Calvin to play in the backyard while I quietly made my way toward Casian's private study on the second floor—a room I had rarely entered out of respect for my husband's privacy.

The teakwood door was unlocked. I stepped inside and glanced around the room, which was filled with large bookshelves and a neatly arranged mahogany desk. Remembering Bill Davidson's advice from the previous night, I had to search for important documents related to the company's assets, share ownership, or the Alpa Stevans Foundation that Casian might have kept in his study.

I immediately began searching through the desk drawers one by one. The first drawer contained pens, company stamps, and a stack of ordinary shopping receipts. The second held tax documents that were of no importance. However, when I tried to open the bottom drawer on the right side of the desk, my fingers suddenly met a solid obstruction.

The drawer was firmly locked.

I furrowed my brows and tried pulling the handle harder, but the small padlock refused to budge. There was no spare key anywhere around the desk.

Just as I straightened up and stared at the locked drawer, my breathing growing heavier, the sound of a car entering the front driveway suddenly startled me from outside the window.

Casian had returned earlier than expected.