Chapter 61

Lynn felt the sting of mockery in his words, her smile freezing in place as her eyes darkened instantly.

Unwilling to back down, she shot back with a sharp edge to her voice, "Friends? Colleagues? Mr. Windsor, Sylvia is a married woman. Your entanglement with her—if word gets out, it won't look good, will it? A man of your standing, getting involved with a married woman like this, aren't you afraid Lucas will find out?"

At her words, the warmth in Edward's eyes plummeted to absolute zero.

He stepped forward, closing in on Lynn, his voice low and dangerous, laced with undisguised contempt. "Getting involved? Ms. Johnson, you talk like you're some kind of expert on the subject. Then again, you probably are—after all, being the other woman is something you've got firsthand experience with."

"You—!" Lynn's face turned deathly pale in an instant. She hadn't expected Edward to be so merciless, much less that he would expose her most shameful identity to her face without the slightest hesitation.

She trembled with rage, pointing at Edward, but couldn't force out a single word.

Edward let out a cold snort. Without sparing her another glance, he turned and walked into the swirling snowfall, umbrella in hand, leaving Lynn alone to shake with fury in the bitter wind, her face twisted and grotesque.

The black sedan glided smoothly through the snowy night.

Sylvia leaned back against the seat, watching the blurred scenery outside the window, but unease began to creep into her chest.

"Mom, when we get back, if Lucas says anything, just don't argue with him, okay?" Sylvia said softly.

Rhea patted her hand gently and sighed. "I know, sweetheart. Don't worry."

The car pulled into the front courtyard of the villa, and Sylvia immediately spotted Lucas's black Bentley.

Her heart sank. She knew tonight wouldn't end quietly.

When she pushed open the door, the living room was brightly lit. Lucas sat on the sofa, a half-burned cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling around his sharp features and blurring the cold lines of his profile.

The moment Sylvia stepped inside, his gaze locked onto her like two blades forged in ice, scrutinizing, furious, and tinged with something far more complicated.

"Where were you?" His voice was low and hoarse, thick with restrained anger.

Sylvia ignored him at first, helping Rhea settle onto the sofa before turning to face Lucas and his dark, menacing eyes. Her voice was calm, almost detached, as if she were recounting facts that had nothing to do with her. "Mom took me to the hospital for a checkup. The doctor said the baby's fine. After that, we had dinner with Edward."

She didn't mention Queenie. She knew Lucas had already heard some embellished version from Queenie herself, and bringing it up now would only fuel his rage.

But she didn't lie either, she simply chose to omit parts of the truth.

Lucas crushed the cigarette into the ashtray with a harsh grinding sound. He stood and walked toward Sylvia, step by step, his towering frame radiating intimidation as he looked down at her. "Sylvia, do you think I can't do anything about you?"

Rhea quickly stood, positioning herself between them. "Lucas, don't do this! Sylvia just came back from the hospital, and she's pregnant. Can't you just talk this out like reasonable people?"

"Mom, stay out of this." Sylvia tugged at Rhea's sleeve, signaling her to step aside.

She met Lucas's gaze head-on, her eyes clear and resolute, without a trace of retreat. "Lucas, do you really want to know what happened tonight? Fine. I'll tell you."

She recounted everything, how Queenie had thrown the supplements into the trash, how she'd mocked them in front of the maid, how she'd slandered Rhea, and finally, how she'd shoved Sylvia, causing sharp pain in her abdomen and an unstable fetal heartbeat. She left nothing out.

As Sylvia spoke, Queenie's face grew paler and paler, her body beginning to tremble uncontrollably.

This little bitch was getting bolder by the day—daring to expose her in front of Lucas like this.

Lucas's expression darkened with every word Sylvia spoke.

He turned to Queenie, his eyes cold as knives. "Is what she said true?"

Queenie's legs nearly gave out beneath her, her whole body shaking. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but found she couldn't utter a single word.

"I asked you, is what she said true?!" Lucas's voice rose sharply, laced with savage fury.

"Mr. Smith... I... I just..." Queenie stammered incoherently, tears and snot streaming down her face.

"Just what? Just wanted something to happen to the Smith family's firstborn?!" Lucas's voice was filled with white-hot rage. He pointed at Queenie, his words coming out slowly and deliberately. "I don't care what grudges you two have, but if anything happens to this child, I promise you—none of you will get off easy."

Queenie was terrified by the harshness in his words. She knew that Lucas always meant what he said, so she quickly knelt down and pleaded desperately for mercy. "Mr. Smith, please have mercy! I wouldn't dare! I'll never do it again!"

Queenie collapsed onto the cold tile floor, trembling and too frightened to speak another word.

The chaos in the villa finally subsided, but Rhea's heart felt like it had been soaked in bitterness—sour and heavy.

She looked at Sylvia's face, calm to the point of numbness, and her chest ached with sympathy. She helped Sylvia to the sofa. "Sylvia, sit down and rest. I'll get you some hot water."

Sylvia sat obediently, her fingers unconsciously stroking her abdomen, feeling the baby's heartbeat slowly settle.

To Lucas, she and this child were ultimately just possessions—things no servant was allowed to touch. Nothing more.

Just then, Lucas's phone rang again.

He glanced at the caller ID, and in an instant, the violent fury radiating from him melted away. The ice in his eyes thawed into something soft and warm.

He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, deliberately lowering his voice, his tone filled with a tenderness and indulgence Sylvia had never heard before.

"Why are you still awake?"

Whatever the person on the other end said made Lucas chuckle softly, his voice low and husky, "Just got home."

This stark contrast in his demeanor was like an invisible needle piercing Rhea's heart. The hand holding the glass of water trembled slightly as she looked at the man speaking so gently on the phone, then back at her daughter—pale and numb—sitting beside her. Tears nearly spilled from her eyes.

Sylvia, however, seemed not to hear any of it. She took the glass from her mother and said quietly, "Mom, I'm tired. I want to go rest."

"Alright, let me help you."

Sylvia stood and walked past Lucas without so much as a glance, heading to her room and softly closing the door behind her.

The moment she disappeared, Lucas hung up the phone, grabbed his coat and car keys from the entryway, and stormed out without looking back. The roar of his engine tore through the silent, snowy night, and soon faded into the distance.