A photo of a disheveled bed flashed onto Jack’s screen, and his fury ignited instantly, his gaze cutting through the image like a blade.
“So…it’s you!”
His voice was icy, laced with a pressure so overwhelming it was suffocating.
Without hesitation, he typed a message, “Lily, I believe I warned you—do not let Freya find out about anything between us!”
After sending the message, Lily glanced at it and let out a dismissive chuckle.
With an air of defiance, she dialed a number.
“Freya, when did you learn to mimic Jack’s tone? You almost sounded like him. Anyway, if I were you, I’d have handed over the position as Jack’s wife by now. After all, I’m already carrying Jack’s child. Who knows? He might propose to me soon.”
Her confidence grew as she continued, “When that happens, you’ll be the one tossed out without a shred of dignity. If you don’t want it to end that way, why not step down sooner? At least you’d save yourself some pain. Otherwise, you’ll lose everything and be left in disgrace.”
Lily grew more triumphant with every word, but the silence from the other end of the line was unnerving. For a brief moment, unease crept into her heart. She quickly suppressed it and pressed on.
“What’s wrong, Freya? Are you so devastated that you can’t even speak? I’ve told you before that Jack’s heart belongs to me. He doesn’t love you; he’s just putting on a show.”
The next second, Jack’s voice boomed through the line, shattering her smugness.
“Oh, really? And who do you think you are to provoke Freya like this?”
His tone was glacial, each word hitting Lily’s chest like a thunderous drumbeat.
