?Chapter 1087:


    Jeffry’s brows drew together, searching for the right words, but Lydia didn’t care to listen. She snatched her hand free, her eyes dark with disappointment and disdain.


    Lydia knew that Jeffry and Evelyn had been married, but this was the first time she had seen them hugging. Old pain surged to the surface, jabbing straight through herposure. So, this was what Jeffry meant by insisting he hadn’t been with anyone except her? Did he actually believe that as long as he didn’t thrust into Evelyn, it didn’t count?


    A wave of disgust twisted in Lydia’s gut. Her brow tightened as she spat, her voice like ice, “Don’ty a hand on me! You make me sick.”


    Jeffry’s expression flickered with pain and shadow, hisshes dropping as if to hide the turmoil in his eyes. Eventually, his voice softened as he tried to exin, “You’ve got it wrong. Evelyn was here begging for help, and I turned her down. She abruptly hugged me from behind, and I didn’t see thating. That’s all.”


    “Spare me,” Lydia retorted, her tone cial. “Your marriage isn’t any of my concern.”


    “Lydia…” Jeffry murmured, brow creasing.


    She didn’t let him finish. “Don’t use my name. We’re not close,” she said, her words like a de.


    Seeing that Lydia refused any conversation, Jeffry’s shoulders slumped, resignation settling in. “Could you at least let me finish?”


    Lydia’s mouth was set in a hard line, her face a mask of stormy displeasure.


    For once, Jeffry was relieved she hadn’t immediately cut him off again. Behind the lenses of his sses, his gaze was steady and intense, brimming with a longing she didn’t—or refused to—see. “I’m divorced,” he said quietly.


    Lydia’s head jerked up in surprise, eyes wide as his words registered. Had she heard him right? Divorced?


    Jeffry leaned in, meeting her eyes at the same height, his voice soft but heavy with emotion. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever been with and truly cared for.” He reached for her hand, his own enveloping it with gentle insistence.


    Lydia froze, caught off guard,pletely forgetting to pull her hand away. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. “No one else has ever kissed me here except you.”


    The heat of his breath lingered on her skin, stirring memories she tried to suppress.


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    Then, almost slowly, he moved her hand down, guiding it to rest against his abdomen. “And here—only your hands have ever touched me.”


    His stare never wavered, so intense that Lydia felt her ears burn. Under her touch, she could feel the taut lines of his muscles, memories surfacing—how she used to trace those contours with her fingertips, never able to get enough of the solid, living strength beneath.


    “Do you remember?” Jeffry’s voice, low and teasing, snapped her from her thoughts.


    A flush crept over Lydia’s cheeks, uncertain if it was embarrassment, anger, or a little of both.


    She tried to jerk her hand away, but Jeffry’s grip only tightened, refusing to release her. The smile faded, and his expression grew solemn. He drew her hand to his chest, holding it there. “Right here,” he murmured, “someone’s made a home.”


    Beneath her palm, Lydia felt the steady, quickening drum of his heartbeat. Her own pulse tripped over itself, matching his. She gazed at him, momentarily lost in the moment. The cold between them seemed to vanish, reced by a heat that brought color to her cheeks and made her hands damp.


    Jeffry’s eyes grew darker, his voice gravelly and low. “Don’t you want to know who it is?”


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