From His Silent Bride to the Queen of Comebacks

After the crowd finally cleared out, Henry looked back toward the stage-and immediately, his face darkened.

Lydia was gone again. Just like that.

...

Holding her robot and trophy, Lydia followed the crowd out of the venue. People kept stopping her to offer congratulations and chat.

It was the first time she'd ever been in the spotlight like this. She looked overwhelmed, nervously nodding and murmuring thanks while hurrying her way through.

Then, as she looked up-there he was.

-Dr. Shaw!

She lit up and practically bounced toward Michael, showing off her trophy with contagious excitement.

-"Look, Dr. Shaw, I did it! I actually won! If it weren't for you, I might not have pulled it off. This trophy... it's kind of ours, right?"

Her face was glowing, cheeks flushed with happiness, like all the joy in the world had landed on her in that moment.

That bright, cheerful energy reminded Michael of someone-someone from long ago who used to beam just like this.

He couldn't help mumbling, "Seven... is that really you?"

Seven?

Lydia blinked, confused.

-"Dr. Shaw, what are you talking about?"

He hesitated for a moment, a little dazed. "Seven, we used to-"

Before he could finish the sentence, a tall, looming figure stepped in behind her.

It was Henry.

His gaze sharp as knives, his presence cold and intense.

He walked up, no questions asked, and yanked Lydia by the wrist, pulling her behind him protectively, almost possessively.

One chilling glance toward Michael, then he dragged her away.

His face was stormy, dangerously calm in that terrifying kind of way.

Lydia knew what that meant. He was absolutely livid.

But his grip? Way too tight. His big hand wrapped firmly around her delicate wrist like a shackle, and she couldn't break free.

She winced but stayed quiet, teeth clenched.

When he finally stopped, she yanked her arm back with all her might.

-"That hurt."

Her eyes were red-rimmed as she signed the words.

"You deserved it," he shot back.

Henry glanced at the angry red mark on her pale wrist, and though his glare loosened a little, it didn't go away.

Thinking about how close she'd just been with that other man made his gut twist with fury.

He grabbed her chin, forcing her head up.

His eyes blazed as he asked through clenched teeth, "Who the hell was that guy?!"

-"Henry, you're getting it all wrong. He's my-"

"Shut up!" he snapped, fury flashing in his eyes. "I'm sick of your pathetic lies!"

He let go of her chin, eyes full of cold disgust. "Lydia, can't wait even a second, huh? The moment I'm out of sight, you're off chasing men?"

Lydia stared up at him, eyes red, shocked beyond words.

-Is that really how you see me?

"A murderer's daughter. What good can come out of that?" Henry laughed mockingly, a hint of red at the corner of his eye.

That sentence hit her like a slap. It felt like something deep inside cracked open with a shattering noise.

Her body stiffened, color draining from her face. Her heart clenched with pain like it was caught in a vice.

Just one sentence from him was enough to crush everything she had tried to hold on to-her dignity, her pride.

Yeah... what was she even indignant about?

At the end of the day, she'd never shake off the label of being "the killer's daughter."

She couldn't stop herself from letting out a dry laugh, lips curling into a bitter smile as silent tears slid down her cheeks.

Before she could think anymore, Henry yanked her by the arm and shoved her into the car.

Lydia knew all too well-there was no way she could go against Henry.

Now that he had dragged her into the car by force, there was only one outcome: being taken away by him without a choice.

Still, she was furious.

Angry that he'd blamed her without even checking facts. Angry that he'd smashed her robot.

But what could she even do to fight back?

She stayed silent, hoping her silence would say what she couldn't.

Quietly, she followed Henry back to the villa without saying a word.

As soon as they got home, Henry shot her a cold glare and ordered, "Come to my room tonight."

And with that, he turned and headed upstairs, leaning on his crutch.

Lydia just stood there, mind blank.

Once it hit her what he said, she turned pale in an instant.

Her first instinct was to say no.

But she couldn't. She didn't dare.

She walked back to her little room alone.

Calling it a servant's room was a stretch-it was way worse than any other servant's quarters in the Lawson house.

Henry had purposely stuck her in the attic's dark storage room, the closest room to his, just to mess with her.

It was always gloomy in there-no sunlight at all. He didn't even let her have a lamp installed.

So every night, all she had was a single candle to light the space.

But strangely, this dingy little nook was the only place in the whole mansion where she felt something close to safe.

Already worn out, Lydia curled up on the bed and quickly drifted off.

She didn't wake again until a loud banging on the door jolted her up. Her mouth was dry and her head heavy as she got up to answer it.

A maid stood outside, looking her up and down with disdain. "You're seriously still sleeping? You could out-sleep a pig."

Lydia was long used to their sneers. She raised her hands and signed a short sentence.

-What is it?

"Mr. Lawson's waiting for you. In his room."