Accidentally Yours, My Super Rich Second Husband-Chapter 119: Fractured Bonds

The office was unnervingly quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Lydia stood near the door, her fingers clenching the strap of her bag, her heart pounding in her chest. Across the room, Evander leaned back in his leather chair, his posture rigid, his expression colder than ice.

Evander waved a hand dismissively toward Hugo, who stood near the door. "Make sure no one interrupts until we’re done," he ordered.

Hugo hesitated, glancing at Lydia with something akin to sympathy before nodding. "Understood, sir. And good luck."

When the door clicked shut, Evander’s sharp eyes locked onto Lydia. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled together. "I thought I told you not to come here anymore," he began, his voice calm but laced with irritation. "So why are you here, Lydia? What else is there to talk about?"

Lydia swallowed hard, her throat tight. Her nails dug into the strap of her bag as she tried to steady her breath. "I needed to ask you something," she said softly, her voice almost breaking.

Evander raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Go on."

She hesitated, staring at the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze. "Is it true?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Are you really married?"

Evander’s expression didn’t waver. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I believe that’s none of your business," he replied shortly.

His response hit Lydia like a slap. Her lips parted slightly, her brows furrowing in disbelief. "None of my business?" she echoed, her voice rising. "How can you say that? You’ve kept my son from me, and now you’re letting some stranger—some woman I don’t even know—be his stepmother?"

Evander’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his jaw tightening. "Watch your mouth," he warned, his tone low and menacing. "My wife is not a stranger. You’d do well to show some respect to her."

Lydia took a step forward, her emotions boiling over. "Respect?" she shot back, her voice cracking. "Do you think any of this is fair? I’m Ashton’s mother! I deserve to know who’s around him—who’s caring for him when you’re not there!"

Evander pushed back his chair and stood, the movement sudden and sharp. The room seemed to shrink as he loomed over her, his cold gaze piercing through her. "And I’m his father," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Do you think I’d ever let anything happen to him? Do you think I don’t know what’s best for him?"

Lydia’s hands shook as she clenched them into fists at her sides. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You’re impossible," she muttered, shaking her head. "You’ve always been like this. Cold and cruel from the moment we met."

Evander let out a sharp laugh, though it held no humor. "And? What exactly do you expect me to do about that? Care about what you think of me? I don’t."

Lydia’s jaw tightened, her emotions spiraling out of control. "You never do," she spat. "You never think about how I feel. Everything’s always on your terms, your way. Do you even care how much you’ve hurt me?"

Evander’s expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "I don’t care, Lydia," he said bluntly, his voice hard. "I don’t care about your feelings, your opinions, or your tantrums. If you’re done throwing your fit, I suggest you leave. Surely you don’t need me to point you to the door. Or would you prefer I call security?"

Lydia flinched at his words, her chest tightening painfully. She turned away for a moment, her shoulders trembling as she fought to collect herself. But the fight in her wasn’t gone yet. She spun back around, her voice rising. "Why are you like this?" she demanded. "Why do you make everything so difficult? All I want is—"

"What you want doesn’t matter," Evander interrupted, his voice cold and final.

Lydia’s breath hitched, but she pressed on. "It does matter!" she cried. "You can’t keep acting like I don’t exist. Like I don’t have any right to be in Ashton’s life. I just want one chance—just one—to see my son."

Her voice broke on the last word, and for the first time, Evander’s expression flickered. It was brief—so brief she might have imagined it—but his jaw clenched, and something unreadable flashed in his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, his stance still rigid, but he didn’t say anything right away.

Lydia hung her head, her voice barely above a whisper now. "That’s all I want, Evander. I just want to see him. Please."

The silence that followed was deafening. Lydia didn’t dare look up, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. When she finally mustered the courage to raise her gaze, she was met with Evander’s hard, cold stare. His eyes, as piercing as ever, gave nothing away.

"It’s better for you to leave now," he said at last, his voice steady and unyielding.

Lydia felt the final shred of hope she’d been clinging to shatter. Her shoulders sagged, and her head dropped again, her tears falling silently onto the pristine floor. Evander turned away from her, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as he stared out the window, his posture as hard as stone.

The air in the room was thick with unspoken words and unresolved pain. Lydia wiped at her face, trying to compose herself, but the weight of his rejection was unbearable.

Without another word, she turned and walked to the door, her steps heavy with defeat. She hesitated for a moment, her hand on the handle, hoping—praying—that he might stop her, that he might say something. But the room remained silent, and she knew better than to hope for a man like Evander to soften.

She opened the door and stepped out, leaving behind the man who had once been her world and the son she might never see again.