บททั้งหมดของ I Married the Man My Ex Could Never Compete With : บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

Lydia POV The house is quiet again. Too quiet for what just happened. Security still moves outside, tighter, faster, more alert than before, but inside everything feels… controlled. Like the chaos never made it past the doors. But it did. It’s still here. I can feel it in the walls, in the air, in the way no one quite relaxes even when they pretend to. I find Adrian in his study. Of course he’s working. Of course he didn’t stop. The screens are still lit, data moving across them in steady streams, controlled and precise in a way that tries to impose order on something that isn’t ordered anymore. He doesn’t look up when I walk in. “I told you to stay inside,” he says. “I am inside.” “That’s not what I meant.” “I know.” He still doesn’t look at me. That’s the first problem. “You’re escalating,” I say. “I’m responding.” “No,” I reply. “You’re escalating.” His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t argue immediately. He finishes whatever he’s looking at, taps something

Lydia POV I don’t look for him. Not after everything that’s happened. Not after what Adrian said. Not after what I said. But when something starts to feel wrong again, instinct doesn’t ask permission. It just moves. And lately, everything feels wrong. The legal challenge changed the tone inside the house. Not panic, not yet, but something colder. More calculated. Like the fight isn’t just outside anymore. It’s inside the structure now, in places we can’t see. And Marcus Marcus doesn’t understand that kind of war. That’s what worries me. I find him because I stop ignoring the pattern. Not at the estate. Not anywhere obvious. Somewhere quieter. A place that feels normal enough to disappear into. A café tucked into a side street, the kind people pass without noticing. He’s already there. That alone tells me something. “You shouldn’t be meeting me like this,” I say as I walk up. He looks up, not surprised. “You came anyway.” “That doesn’t make it a good idea.” “No,” he

Lydia POV By the time everything collides, it doesn’t feel like impact. It feels like pressure. Constant. Expanding. Closing in from every direction until there’s no clear place to stand. The house isn’t quiet anymore. It’s controlled chaos. Voices move through the halls, low and urgent. Screens stay on in every room. Updates come faster than anyone can process them, each one stacking on the last until nothing feels separate. The company is slipping. Not collapsing yet. But close enough that people are starting to believe it will. The legal challenge spreads through every layer of the system. Analysts dissect it. Investors react to it. The board fractures further under it. No one knows what’s true anymore, only what’s possible. And possibility is enough to break confidence. The attacks haven’t stopped either. They’ve just… shifted. Less visible. More deliberate. Like whoever is behind this doesn’t need to prove they can reach us anymore. They’ve already done that. No

Lydia POV The room smells like paper and tension. Not panic. Not yet. But something close to it. The legal team doesn’t waste time with small talk when I walk in. That tells me everything before they say a word. Screens are already lit. Documents spread across the table in layered stacks, marked, flagged, cross-referenced. This isn’t routine. This is discovery. “Mrs. Cole,” the senior counsel says, nodding slightly. “Thank you for coming.” “You said it couldn’t wait.” “It can’t.” I take a seat without asking what this is about. The tone already told me. The way they’re standing, not sitting. The way no one looks relaxed. Something shifted. “Walk me through it,” I say. A file is pushed toward me. Not thick. Not overwhelming. Just… precise. “That’s the current challenge Richard filed,” he begins. “You’ve seen the outline.” “I’ve seen enough.” “Then we’ll skip to what changed.” That gets my attention. “Changed how?” He exchanges a look with the others before answering

Lydia POV By the time the news breaks, it’s already out of control. Not in volume. In direction. Every channel is saying the same thing in different ways. Leadership instability. Legal uncertainty. Market reaction. They don’t need to accuse directly. The repetition does it for them. Adrian removed. Temporarily. That word is everywhere. And no one believes it. I watch it for a few minutes longer than I should, standing in front of the screen as the narrative builds itself piece by piece. He hasn’t spoken. Of course he hasn’t. That silence is doing more damage than any statement could. “Media requests are stacking,” Damien says from behind me. “They want a response within the hour.” “From Adrian?” “They asked for him first.” “And now?” “They’ll take anything.” I nod once. Of course they will. Because right now, anything is better than silence. “Set it up,” I say. A pause. “Set what up?” Damien asks. “A statement.” “From legal?” “No.” “From the board?” “No.”