The Wife He Left Behind（82）

Chapter 82

Lyla knocked gently on the door. From within, Tony’s deep, magnetic voice resonated, cool and commanding, “Come in.”

As she opened the door and stepped inside, the faint tendrils of smoke curled in the air, rising from behind his chair. Even though his back was to her, Lyla could sense his commanding presence, his aura of authority and effortless confidence. She couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t need to. His stature alone was enough to leave a lasting impression. It’s a pity he doesn’t belong to me, she thought to herself with a wistful sigh.

“You’ve certainly hired a lot of spies, Mr. Hart,” Lyla commented, her tone casual, but with an undercurrent of admiration. She chuckled, having grown bolder since they had become allies. She had no problem with being unscrupulous, especially when it came to her own ambitions.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he coolly informed her, “There’s a stack of photos on the table that should be of use to you.” His voice was detached, his manner as aloof as ever.

Lyla raised an eyebrow in slight surprise but smiled, remembering the call she had received earlier at Zion Club. The information had been precise. “I wonder what your terms are, Mr. Hart,” she teased, letting a hint of curiosity creep into her voice. “I still worry I won’t be able to repay you.”

Though she voiced her concerns, she moved swiftly to the desk, picking up the envelope without hesitation. With a deliberate slowness, she opened it, and her excitement was palpable when she saw the contents. The photographs of Myra, in compromising situations with men, flickered before her eyes. Lyla’s smile deepened, amused by the sight of Myra’s vulnerability.

“Mr. Hart,” she said, voice laced with curiosity as she flipped through the photos, “how exactly did Myra Stark offend you? These pictures are quite… revealing.” She leaned back in her chair, the knowledge of Myra’s intimate moments with other men only adding fuel to the fire. “Why are you so eager to teach her a lesson?” she asked, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

The angle of the photos obscured the man’s face, but the images would still make a splash if released, especially if Sean ever saw them. The man’s physique, muscular and imposing, suggested a certain power that could stir controversy.

Tony’s expression remained cold as he replied, “That’s none of your concern. Just remember, you know what to do and what not to do.” He turned to face her abruptly, his handsome features catching the light. Lyla couldn’t suppress the flutter in her chest—his rugged charm was undeniable, and it stung to think he was so out of her reach. However, she quickly regained her composure.

“I have only one request,” Lyla continued, her voice steady. “Keep this between us. We wouldn’t want unnecessary trouble down the road.” Her ambition to marry into the Chase family had only grown stronger, and she wasn’t about to let anything—or anyone—complicate that.

“Of course,” Tony replied, his gaze turning even more distant, his brow arching slightly as if he found the situation amusing.

Not long after leaving Hart Group, Myra’s phone buzzed with a call from Lyla. Despite her initial reluctance to answer, curiosity gnawed at her. What could Lyla possibly want now?

She hesitated before picking up. The line went silent for a moment, then Lyla’s voice came through, slightly hoarse. “Myra Stark, do you want to know about the child I had with Sean? Come to the cafeteria at six, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Myra’s heart skipped. Her day had been busy, starting at the construction site and now nearing the end of her shift. But the temptation to learn more about Lyla and Sean’s child—especially after the cruel accusations Sean had thrown at her—was too strong to ignore. She had to know what had really happened.

Though Sean had accused her of causing the child’s death, Myra had no memory of doing such a thing. She couldn’t reconcile his words with her own recollection. After hours of contemplation, she got into her car and drove to the cafeteria, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that lingered in her chest.

On her way, something caught her eye—another cafeteria, and within it, Estelle seemed to be caught in an argument. Concerned, Myra parked her car and walked inside. The space was quiet, offering an unusual level of privacy. Potted plants lined the area, making it feel like a secluded nook, far from prying eyes.

As Myra got closer, she overheard Estelle’s voice—sharp and unmistakable. “I’m warning you, Shawn Hart! Stop making your moves! Don’t think for a second that I’ll take responsibility just because I slept with you! If that’s the case, the line of men I’d have to manage would stretch all the way to City Hall! You’re a man, so act like one!”

The man’s voice, equally familiar, sounded exasperated. “Stay still! I’ll make you regret it if you move.” His tone was rough, menacing.

Estelle’s voice rang out again, this time more indignant, “How dare you! If you touch me, I’ll make sure the whole world knows you raped me!”

Unable to suppress her amusement, Myra couldn’t help but laugh under her breath at the absurdity of the situation. But just as she stifled her laugh, Estelle’s angry voice shot through the air. “Who’s there?”

Before Myra could hide, a slender hand brushed aside the potted plants, and Estelle’s furious face appeared, flushed with embarrassment. “Myra, what are you doing here?”

Caught, Myra stepped forward awkwardly. She parted the branches to get a better look at the man standing beside Estelle. He looked remarkably similar to Tony—handsome, with sharp features—but his expression was more serious, his aura one of authority and elegance. This must be Shawn Hart, the third son of the Hart family.

“Hello, Mr. Hart,” Myra greeted him coolly, her gaze briefly drifting toward Estelle, who was now trying to move away from Shawn, but he held her firmly by the waist.

“Don’t forget what you promised,” Shawn said with a dangerous edge, his grip tightening. “You made this choice, and now you’re stuck with it. We’re tied together, for better or worse.”

“Bullsh*t!” Estelle snapped, clearly angry, but Myra’s presence made her words falter slightly. Myra couldn’t help but blush at how ridiculous Estelle looked, but when she saw Shawn’s grim expression, she quickly backed off. She knew too well how manipulative he could be. His charm was just a front for his true nature, and he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Sensing the tension, Myra smiled apologetically at Estelle. “I have an appointment with Lyla, so I’ll leave you to your conversation with Mr. Hart.” The lie slipped out smoothly.

Estelle’s eyes widened in disbelief, but Myra was already moving away. She knew Estelle was the one who had gotten involved with Shawn in the first place, and Myra had no patience for Estelle’s denial. The woman was obviously conflicted about her feelings for him, but Myra wasn’t going to waste any more time on it.

Shawn, however, wasn’t done yet. He turned to Myra and asked, “Miss Stark, would you consider rescheduling your appointment with Lyla?”

Estelle opened her mouth to refuse, but Myra cut her off, nodding at Shawn. “Of course. I can meet Lyla on another day. It’s no problem at all.” She didn’t care if Estelle was shocked—she was simply tired of the drama. Estelle had always been the one chasing Shawn, but now, the tables had turned.

As Myra walked away, she couldn’t help but feel that Shawn wasn’t going to let her slip away so easily.