All Chapters of Too Late To Love Me: I Already Left With His Twins: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Lydia POV“You’re getting married to Dave Ashton tomorrow by eight a.m.”Those were the words that ended my life as I knew it.One sentence.One Tuesday evening.One announcement delivered with the same emotional weight my father would have used to ask someone to pass the salt.For a moment, I honestly thought I had heard him wrong.The living room blurred around me.My father stood by the liquor shelf, one hand resting against the polished wood, his expression flat and bored, like this conversation had already exhausted him before it even started.My mother sat elegantly on the cream sofa, her ankles crossed, fingers folded in her lap like she was hosting a charity luncheon instead of participating in the destruction of my future.And then there was Iny.Sweet, delicate, polished Iny.My younger sister.The family’s favorite investment.She sat there in a pale yellow dress with her glossy lips parted in what looked suspiciously like excitement.Excitement.For my arranged marriage.T

Lydia POVAfter what seems like forever, a black Rolls-Royce pulled into the court compound, I had already imagined three different ways to murder my husband.Future husband.Potential husband.Missing husband.Whatever.At that point, I wasn’t being picky.The sleek black car glided through the gate like it had no business sharing space with other cars there.I was seated outside by then.Not because I wanted fresh air.Because sitting inside had become unbearable.Every few minutes, another couple got called in.So yes, by the time the car arrived, I was irritated enough to chew glass.The driver stepped out first.Then the back door opened.And Dave Ashton stepped out like he wasn’t over an hour late to his own wedding.For one deeply annoying second, I forgot I was supposed to be angry.Because God.The internet had not lied.He was tall.Not just tall in a “nice build” way.Tall in the kind of way that made expensive suits look custom-made for intimidation.Dark charcoal suit.Wh

Lydia’s POVThe inside of the house was even worse than the outside.Worse, because now I had to physically stand inside it and accept that this was where I was expected to live.The space swallowed me the second I stepped in.The entrance opened into a massive living area with floors so polished I could practically see my stress reflecting back at me. Floor to ceiling windows stretched across one side of the room, letting in soft afternoon light that spilled over cream walls, expensive art, glass tables, and furniture that looked too rich to be sat on carelessly.Everything looked clean.Like one of those houses in luxury magazines where nobody ever seems to actually live.I turned slowly, taking it in.A sound behind me made me turn.A man in a perfectly pressed black suit approached with the calm expression of someone who had probably seen a lot more dramatic brides than me.“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said with a slight bow. “Welcome home.”I almost laughed.Home.That was ambitio

Lydia POVThat afternoon, the house was unusually empty. Not empty empty. Just… scattered. The cleaners were somewhere in the far wing doing whatever rich people’s staff did in corners of houses no one actually lived in. Bernard had gone out to restock household supplies. Even the cook had disappeared into whatever kitchen dimension produced my meals on time and without emotional damage. So it was just me in the living room. Curled into one side of the massive cream sofa in an oversized T-shirt and shorts, binge-watching a Korean drama I had clicked on by accident and gotten emotionally trapped inside. I didn’t even know the title anymore. All I knew was that the male lead had spent the last twelve episodes acting emotionally constipated, and he was finally, finally leaning in to kiss the girl. I sat forward automatically. “Oh, if this man backs away now, I’ll scream,” I muttered. He leaned closer. She closed her eyes. And just then, I heard the front door open. I frown

I stared at the name. Then looked up slowly. Bernard pretended to be deeply interested in the flower arrangement by the wall. Coward. I looked back down at the paper. “Interesting,” I said. Bernard wisely said nothing. I exhaled through my nose and moved on. “Fine. We’re doing this once and we’re doing it properly.” That was how I found myself planning a dinner for a husband who barely acknowledged I existed. Very romantic. The menu took an hour because I refused to serve anything that looked like sadness on a plate. I wanted it elegant, but not pretentious. Comfortable, but not boring. So after arguing with the chef, changing my mind twice, and rejecting one truly offensive canapé suggestion, I settled on a spread that made actual sense. A small starter selection. Peppered prawns. Mini puff pastries. A proper salad for the people who liked pretending leaves could satisfy hunger. Main options with grilled sea bass, braised lamb, chicken in cream sauce, jollof rice,