She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 428

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At nine o'clock the next morning, warm sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains.

Lyra stirred awake. The man beside her was speaking in a low, hushed voice on the phone.

After an exhausting night of physical dominance, the phantom sensation of his skin against hers made Lyra's stomach knot with humiliation. She didn't dare move, keeping her eyes shut and her breathing shallow, faking a deep sleep.

Moments later, Rowan ended the call and walked into the en-suite bathroom. The rush of the shower echoed loudly in the quiet bedroom.

Almost immediately, the phone left on the nightstand vibrated. Lyra hesitated for a second before reaching out and answering the call.

A voice came through the speaker. "Boss, Mrs. Sawyer's comatose son passed away last night."

Lyra's eyes snapped open. She shot up in bed, her fingers digging into the edge of the phone.

"Boss?"

Lyra instantly hung up and fired off a text: [Got it. In a meeting. Do not disturb.]

She didn't care if the person on the other end bought it. Desperate to erase her tracks, she swiftly deleted the call log and the text message, making sure the phone was spotless before setting it back exactly where she found it.

She sat there, her spine rigid, straining her ears to listen to the running water, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The shower eventually stopped, and thick steam billowed out from beneath the bathroom door.

Once finished, Rowan personally drove her to Fairchild Holdings. The car ride was peaceful, with barely a word spoken. As he pulled up to the sleek corporate building, he turned to her. "We're here. I'll pick you up the day after tomorrow."

He handed her a sleek black credit card with no spending limit. "Have fun these next two days," he said casually.

Lyra's heart leaped, and she quickly snatched the card. Keeping her face perfectly neutral, she pushed the door open and hurried out, refusing to linger a second longer than necessary.

The moment she stepped into her office, she began rearranging her schedule. She had already made up her mind—she was sneaking off to Jansville.

Lyra pulled up a photo of Mrs. Sawyer's late granddaughter. The girl had been wearing a cozy knit sweater and a pleated mini skirt, radiating youthful energy before a car crash ended her life at twenty.

She called for Secretary Montgomery. "Buy me this exact outfit. Make it quick."