Chapter 910

The icy aura radiating from Lucian was palpable, chilling the air around him. He had been certain it was Rosalind who requested his Instagram. He had convinced himself it was Rosalind who confessed her feelings, who wanted to share a romantic dinner with him.

The brutal truth struck him like a physical blow.

It had all been his imagination. A pathetic one-sided fantasy.

Now, he felt nothing but humiliation burning through his veins.

Vivian's voice quivered. "Mr. Graves, I swear I didn't know... Please, just release me..."

Lucian's expression was glacial. "Remove her from my sight. Permanently."

His security team immediately seized Vivian, dragging her toward the exit.

She struggled, muffled protests escaping as a guard clamped a hand over her mouth.

Lucian remained motionless, his towering frame rigid with tension. His piercing eyes darkened with turbulent emotion. How could Rosalind betray him like this?

Genevieve seized the opportunity to twist the knife deeper. "Open your eyes! Ms. Fairchild has been toying with you from the beginning! If she truly cared, she wouldn't have given your contact information to Vivian."

Reginald chimed in, voice dripping with false concern. "You're embarrassing yourself. Ms. Fairchild isn't worth this obsession. Move on before you become a complete laughingstock."

The words cut deep. Lucian had canceled important meetings, dressed meticulously, arrived early—all for a woman who never intended to come.

Why? What had he done to deserve such cruelty?

Without a word, Lucian shoved past them, his long strides eating up the distance as thunder rumbled ominously outside.

"Where are you going?" Reginald called after him.

Genevieve's shrill voice followed. "Don't you dare go after Rosalind again!"

Deaf to their protests, Lucian slid into his Lamborghini and accelerated into the stormy night, tires screeching against wet pavement.

Meanwhile, Rosalind sat alone in her apartment. Lillian had been summoned by her thesis advisor, leaving the space unnervingly quiet.

She stared blankly at her sketchpad, pencil hovering over untouched paper. Hours had slipped by, yet the page remained empty.

The clock chimed seven times.

Was Lucian enjoying his evening with Vivian? Was he smiling that rare, breathtaking smile for someone else?

She shook her head violently, as if physically dislodging the thoughts. This obsession had to stop.

Reaching for her craft knife, her trembling fingers betrayed her. The blade slipped, slicing a thin crimson line across her index finger.

Blood welled instantly.

Rosalind gasped, instinctively bringing the wound to her lips just as a deafening thunderclap shook the windows.

Rain hammered against the glass as she rushed to secure the window.

CRASH!

The front door exploded inward, making her whirl around in shock.

There—dripping rainwater and radiating fury—stood Lucian.

His tailored white shirt clung to his torso, dark trousers splattered with rain. Black suit jacket dangling from one fist, his chest heaved as those stormy eyes pinned her in place.

Rosalind's breath caught. "You're... back already?"

Lucian's mouth twisted into a mirthless smirk. "Disappointed? Were you hoping I'd spend the entire night with your little replacement?"