“Lyman, looks like you''ve been cheated on!"


    Vinson Elliott mmed on the brakes, excitement lighting up his features as he pointed toward the hotel just ahead.


    Before the car even rolled to aplete stop, Lyman jumped out and sprinted in Effie''s direction.


    "Mitchell, are you insane? Let me go!"


    Effie struggled hard, a mixture of anger and shame burning on her cheeks. In a split-second decision, she sank her teeth into Mitchell''s shoulder.


    With a yelp of pain, Mitchell shoved her off. "Damn it, Effie! Were you a dog in your past life or something?"


    She hadn''t expected him to push her so forcefully-Effie stumbled backward, bracing herself for a painful fall. But the sting never came.


    Instead, a familiar scent-clean, bright, like white tea-washed over her.


    She blinked, then turned and saw Lyman.


    For some reason, all the feelings she''d been holding back came rushing to the surface; her nose prickled, and her eyes stung with unshed tears.


    "Honey," she whispered, her voice trembling, leaning into him.


    Lyman pulled her into his arms with a tenderness that made her breath hitch. "It''s alright. I''m here now," he murmured.


    Mitchell''s eyes grew red, almost feverish, as he watched the two of them. It was as if a crimson haze had settled over his vision.


    "Effie, stop pretending," he snapped. "I know you still love me. Otherwise-why didn''t you break free just now?"


    Effie shot him a look that was half-disbelief, half-exasperation. Was he out of his mind? Men were generally stronger than women-she hadn''t exactly trained for wrestling matches. How was she supposed to overpower him?


    Right now, Mitchell looked less like a man and more like a mad bull.


    Lyman gently drew Effie aside, his voice soft as he said, "Be good, sweetheart. Close your eyes."


    She nodded and obediently did as he asked.


    Then Lyman turned, his fist clenched tight, and swung at Mitchell.


    His punchnded squarely on Mitchell''s face, sending him stumbling back, nearly toppling over.


    A metallic taste flooded Mitchell''s nose-blood. Lyman had actually made him bleed.


    Refusing to back down, Mitchell threw a punch at Lyman. But he was still dizzy from the blow, and Lyman easily dodged it.


    Fueled by anger, Lymannded a few more solid hits.


    Mitchell sprawled on the ground, ring up at Lyman with stubborn defiance.


    "You''re desperate to beat me up because you know the truth: Effie still has feelings for me! Go ahead, finish me off! The more you try, the more she''ll never forget me!"


    Lyman froze mid-motion.


    Mitchell''s eyes glinted with smug satisfaction.


    But just then, Lyman felt someone wrap their arms around him from behind.


    He turned and found Effie clinging to him, shaking her head.


    His whole body tensed. He thought she was begging him to stop, to spare Mitchell.


    Mitchell seemed to think the same, his grin growing even more triumphant.


    But Effie''s next words cut through the tension: "That''s not it. I haven''t cared about him for a long time. You''re the only one who matters to me now. Hitting him only dirties your hands."


    Lyman felt like he was on a rollercoaster-his heart dropping, then soaring again.


    But right now, one thing was certain: he''d never felt so happy. It was as if someone had cracked open a jar of honey in his chest-everything was sweet and golden.


    "Alright," he said softly.


    "Lyman."


    A woman''s voice called out. She strode toward him, heels clicking—a striking figure in seven-inch red patent stilettos and a spaghetti-strap dress that showed off every curve. Oversized sunsses hid her eyes, but her mane of long, voluminous curls tumbled over her shoulders like seaweed, making her look every bit the morous femme fatale. She walked straight toward Lyman, her steps measured and unhurried.