Chapter 81
Chapter 81
At that, the tension in Lucas's brow eased slightly. His tone was dismissive. "He's the Williams family's blood. Wanting to find his own sister is only natural. You should be more understanding about something like this. It's not worth picking a fight over."
Hearing Lucas take Victor's side, a dark shadow crossed Lynn's eyes.
She bit her lower lip and squeezed out a few more tears, making herself look even more pitiful. "It's not that I'm being unreasonable—I'm worried about Dad. He's furious over this whole thing. He thinks Victor has no loyalty to the Johnson family, that he doesn't care about us at all. The board is already pushing back, and there's talk of reassigning Victor to some dead-end branch office. Lucas, can you please talk to him? Tell him to let this go and make things right with Dad."
Lucas looked at her worried expression, assumed she was simply caught in the middle between her father and her brother, and nodded. "All right, stop crying. I'll go talk to him."
---
Late at night, at Emerald City's most exclusive private members' club.
The private room was dim, empty bottles scattered across the table.
Victor sat slumped against the sofa, a glass of straight whiskey in hand. His usually sharp, composed eyes were bloodshot and heavy with exhaustion.
Lucas pushed the door open and sat down across from him, taking the glass right out of his hand. "You're willing to throw away everything the Johnson family has given you just to find a sister who's been missing for years. Is it worth it?"
Victor let out a hollow laugh and tipped his head back against the sofa. His voice was rough. "Lucas, you don't understand. She's the only blood relative I have in this world. I've been searching for her for years. Now that I finally have a lead, it doesn't matter if I get reassigned. Even if they threw me out of the Johnson family entirely, I wouldn't stop looking."
Lucas went quiet and just watched him. He didn't push further.
He knew Victor. Once he made up his mind about something, nothing could change it.
Victor straightened up and looked at Lucas steadily, his tone earnest. "Lucas, Mr. Johnson is dead set on transferring me out of Emerald City. He wants to cut off my connections. The moment I leave, the search will stall. You're the closest thing I have to a brother. I can only ask you—please use the Smith family's resources to keep looking for her."
He paused. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes. "If you find her and discover she's struggling or in trouble, please look out for her quietly. For my sake. Consider it a debt I owe you."
Lucas met the sincerity in Victor's eyes. He nodded. "Don't worry. Leave it to me."
Neither of them noticed that the room's door was slightly ajar—and that Lynn was pressed flat against the wall just outside, listening to every word.
Her fingers dug into her palms so hard her nails nearly snapped. Her face was twisted with raw, ugly jealousy.
Why? She'd called Victor her brother for years, and he'd always treated her with cool, businesslike indifference. Yet for some faceless stranger he'd never even met—some woman who might not even be worth finding—he was willing to sacrifice everything the Johnson family had given him. He was even humbling himself to beg Lucas for help.
All that love and attention, being handed to some woman she'd never even seen. She would never allow it.
Inside the room, both men drank in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, glass after glass.
By the dead of night, Lucas was completely drunk.
He slumped against the sofa, brow knotted, muttering something incoherent under his breath.
Victor wasn't much better. He called the club manager and had Lucas helped into a car.
The driver took the familiar route to a vacant Smith family private villa nearby.
Lynn followed quietly the entire way.
Once the driver had settled Lucas in the guest room and left, she slipped in through the front door using the access code, her heels clicking softly on the floor.
The guest room was lit only by a single dim wall sconce.
Lucas lay sprawled across the bed, his tie yanked loose, his breathing heavy. He was out cold.
Lynn stood at the bedside, looking down at his sharp, handsome face in sleep. A calculating gleam flickered in her eyes.
She leaned over and deftly unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest. Then she tugged the already low neckline of her silk nightgown down a little further, baring a wide expanse of pale skin.
She carefully lay down beside him, rested her head on his shoulder, and draped one hand across his chest—arranging herself into a pose of unmistakable intimacy.
She pulled out her phone, found the right angle to frame both their faces in the same shot, and took several photos. In every one, the dim light, the disheveled clothing, the sleeping man and the woman nestled against him—anyone who saw them would draw the obvious conclusion.
Lynn selected the most suggestive photo, opened WhatsApp, and pulled up Sylvia's contact.
One tap. Sent.
She stared at the image on her screen. A vicious smile crept across her lips. She typed out a message to go with it: [Ms. Spencer, Lucas had too much to drink tonight and insisted I stay with him. You should get some rest. Don't wait up.]
---
Two in the morning. The guest room at Spencer Manor.
Sylvia was propped against the headboard, enduring the relentless pelvic pain that came with late pregnancy.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The screen lit up in the dark.
She picked it up. The moment she opened WhatsApp, the photo and the message hit her dead in the eyes.
Sylvia stared at the screen. Not a single ripple moved through her.
She pressed the screen off, set the phone back on the nightstand, rolled over, and forced herself to sleep.
---
The next morning, the doorbell at Spencer Manor rang.
Lucas came in looking like the wreck he was—hungover, hollow-eyed, dark stubble shadowing his jaw.
Sylvia was in the dining room, working through the bowl of oatmeal Rhea had made her. She didn't look up.
Lucas pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
He looked at her calm profile. His throat moved. Then, in a move that was almost uncharacteristic of him, he spoke first. "Last night I was drinking with Victor at the club. I had too much. The driver took me to the vacant villa nearby to sleep it off. Lynn just came by to check on me. Nothing happened between us."
He'd expected this explanation to crack her composure—even a little. In the past, anything involving Lynn would set off a fight.
Sylvia finished the last spoonful of oatmeal at her own unhurried pace. She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Then she looked up at him.
"Are you done?" Her tone was as flat as if she were listening to a stranger read off a travel itinerary. "You didn't need to come all the way here to tell me that. What you and she do is none of my concern. I only have one question—have you read the divorce agreement? When are you signing it?"
Lucas's face went rigid. Every word he'd prepared died in his throat.