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From His Silent Bride to the Queen of Comebacks Novel Cover

From His Silent Bride to the Queen of Comebacks

For ten years, Lydia Abbott endured Henry Lawson's cruelty after being framed for his father's death. Henry adopted her only to inflict torment, eventually leading to her imprisonment and the loss of her child. When the truth finally surfaces, Lydia fakes her death in a massive explosion. Five years later, she resurfaces as a powerful, elite scientist. No longer a victim, she returns to strip Henry of everything, leaving him to beg for the woman he once destroyed.
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Chapter 11

Just as she was about to turn and leave, Henry grabbed her wrist, his face clouded over. "Who said you could walk out that door? You found me here-are you stalking me now?"

His sharp tone drained the color from Lydia's face. She scrambled to explain before he took things the wrong way again.

"I'm not stalking you," she gestured anxiously. "I came here for the science competition."

She held up the small robot in her hands. "See? This is my entry."

Henry shot a dismissive glance at it and sneered, "This old junk pile?"

Without warning, he swatted it to the ground.

The robot slammed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

"No!"

Lydia dropped to her knees, frantically gathering the broken parts.

But Henry yanked her back up, his expression growing darker, irritated. "You really think I'm that gullible? You better start talking-what are you pulling here?"

The sting of his words hit hard.

He doesn't believe her... at all.

Tears welled in her eyes. She bit her lip, glanced at him through the blur, then wrenched herself free.

"Henry, I hate you!"

With her busted robot in her arms, she turned and ran.

Henry's face darkened.

She's really getting bolder by the day.

...

Lydia ran and ran, only stopping when her legs gave out. She collapsed by the roadside, clutching the broken robot, tears streaming down.

This competition... she'd waited years for this. Three whole years.

Now it was gone. All of it-gone.

The harder she tried not to cry, the more her tears fell. She thought Henry would at least... understand her, even if he didn't support her.

But his reaction just now felt like he crushed her trust along with the robot.

"Miss Abbott?"

A gentle voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Lydia looked up through blurry eyes and saw Michael standing right in front of her.

"So it really is you," he smiled.

For a second, he thought he'd gotten it wrong. But the way she looked eating candy that last time-it stuck with him. So he took the chance to ask. And yeah, it was her.

Seeing her like this, so upset, tugged at something in him. He walked closer.

"You okay?" he asked. "Need help with anything?"

The doctor...

Lydia felt a little let down. For a moment there, she thought maybe Henry had followed her.

What a joke.

Especially since she thought she'd just seen Clara nearby.

If Clara's around, there's no way Henry would spare a second thought for someone like her.

Michael's voice at least warmed her heart a little. She lifted her hands and gestured.

"My robot broke," she signed. "I can't compete anymore."She hadn't expected him to understand her at all. But to her surprise, after watching her hand signs, Michael paused briefly, then pointed at the broken robot in his arms and asked, "You mean this one?"

Lydia was stunned for a second. He could read sign language?

She nodded instinctively and replied,

-Yes, that's the one.

Michael gave a small smile. "Mind if I take a look?"

-Sure.

Sniffling, Lydia passed him the damaged robot, her eyes still red.

He turned it over in his hands, examining it for a moment before suddenly grinning. "Hang on a second."

Before she could respond, he walked off into a nearby mall with the robot.

By the time Lydia realized and chased after him, he had already disappeared inside.

She froze, feeling a wave of disappointment crash over her.

Seriously?

Not only was her carefully-built robot trashed, making it impossible to compete-now someone had straight-up taken off with it?

The more she thought, the worse she felt. Tears streamed down uncontrollably.

Just then, Michael reappeared.

Lydia stared at him, wide-eyed.

Seeing her still crying, Michael chuckled softly. "Okay, okay, no more tears. Your robot's fine-look, I fixed it."

-Huh?

Lydia took the robot from him, still in disbelief. It was actually repaired.

-How did you do that?!

The joy in her eyes was obvious, followed quickly by guilt.

So... he had just gone to fix it for her. And she'd thought the worst of him.

Michael said, "It wasn't really broken, just missing a part. I found someone inside who had the piece and helped put it in place. That's all."

Looking over it carefully, Lydia saw he was right, and quickly thanked him with a bright smile.

-Dr. Shaw, thank you so, so much!

He waved it off with a grin. "No need to thank me. Honestly, you could've figured it out yourself. You were just too stressed to notice."

-Still, I really appreciate it.

Michael just shook his head, amused. "Well, now that it's fixed, you can make it to the competition. Go on, don't be late."

Startled, Lydia checked the time.

-Alright. Dr. Shaw, I'm heading out. I owe you a meal for this!

She was about to leave when Michael gently caught her wrist.

Confused, Lydia turned back. He smiled and said, "If you just run over now, the competition's probably over. Come on, I'll give you a ride."

Lydia hesitated, bit her lip, then gave a small nod.

...

At the competition venue, things were already wrapping up.

The judges had made their final decisions, and someone came over to report to Charles and Henry.

Charles let out a quiet sigh, "I really thought we'd find some promising talent this time... but no. There's still a long way to go."

Henry didn't react much-his tone was calm. "Well, if that's the case, go ahead and make the announcement."

The person nodded and walked off.

On stage, the host got the cue, looked down at the audience and said, "And now, the winner of this year's competition is-"

Before he could finish, a sudden commotion came from the entrance.

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