?Chapter 953:


    “Mr. Morrison,” Lydia said, casually acknowledging him.


    Ethan wasn’t alone. Three subordinates trailed behind him. But the moment his gazended on Lydia, his stride slowed. “Heading somewhere?” he asked, his tone oddly deliberate.


    This simple question gave her pause. Why did it sound like he was fishing for something? “Someone’s downstairs waiting for me. I’m just going to check who it is,” she answered inly.


    With a quiet nod, he moved past her and said nothing more.


    Once the elevator doors slid open, Lydia stepped inside.


    Down in the lobby, the usual stream of agents and visitors passed through, but one figure stood out. Right in the center, a man in a ck suit stood perfectly still. There was something about him—his posture, the way he watched the elevator doors—that made him impossible to ignore.


    As soon as Lydia walked out of the elevator, their eyes met, like it had been rehearsed.


    Recognition hit her fast. Her brows drew together in an instant. What was Jeffry doing here?


    Jeffry’s gaze shifted slightly when their eyes met. Standing tall in his tailored suit, he lookedposed and unbothered, a picture of calm authority. People walking by nced in his direction, drawn to him without knowing why. He hadn’t changed. Still irritatingly handsome. But Lydia didn’t smile. Her expression sharpened. A storm had already gathered.


    Behind her eyes, something cold flickered. She closed the distance between them without hesitation, her face unreadable and her tone colder than steel. “Why are you here?”


    Jeffry’s throat tightened before he could speak. “You left some of your stuff at my ce,” he said, his voice rough around the edges.


    Lydia raised an eyebrow. That didn’t add up. She was sure she had cleared everything out the night she walked away. Unbothered, she stared him down. “Then throw it out.”


    A shadow crossed Jeffry’s face. The woman who used to meet his gaze with warmth had vanished. In her ce stood someone whose every word scraped like frost against his skin. “They’re yours. You should be the one to toss them.”


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    Lydia didn’t have the patience for back-and-forth. “I’ll take care of them when I’ve got time,” she said tly.


    Feelings for him had long since faded, buried beneath memories she no longer wished to touch. Still, seeing him again stirred something unpleasant deep inside her.


    She started to walk away, but Jeffry wasn’t done. His hand mped around her wrist. “You’reing today,” he said, steady and demanding.


    Lydia ripped her arm free and wiped the spot he’d touched, as though his hand had left behind something filthy.


    Her reaction hit him like a p. For a second, he wondered if she truly despised him that much.


    Part of Lydia wanted to tell him to get lost and never show his face again. But the quicker she dealt with this, the quicker she could close that chapter for good. “Fine. Let’s do it today,” she said, her tone sharp enough to cut ss. The moment she agreed, something in Jeffry’s face rxed, like he’d won a small victory.


    Once outside, the two of them walked in silence. A sleek ck car sat waiting at the curb—Jeffry’s, no doubt.


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