She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 634

Wesley lied when he said Jasmine was doing well. He just didn't want Lyra to have the satisfaction of gloating. The truth was, Jasmine was in agony. She suffered from severe nocturnal headaches and constant vomiting, making it impossible for her to sleep. She lay alone in her hospital room without a single family member to care for her. Yet, the woman was too damn stubborn. Even in such a pathetic state, she refused to call her family, supposedly to save them from worrying. Wesley honestly feared she might just die alone in that bed.

Lyra stared at Wesley's perfectly composed face. Talking to him felt like punching a wall of cotton.

It made sense. Wesley used to work closely with Jasmine.

Back then, he was Rowan's right-hand man, so it was only natural that his loyalties occasionally leaned toward Jasmine.

"Ma'am, whether you printed this divorce agreement because you genuinely mean it, or just to force Mr. Jameson to pay more attention to you..."

"In this battle against Jasmine, you've definitely won."

Lyra watched as Wesley bowed politely, clutched his files, and turned to leave.

A heavy knot of frustration formed in Lyra's chest. Before she could even calm herself down, the sound of footsteps echoed from the stairs. Rowan was walking down from the second floor. His eyes immediately locked onto her deeply annoyed expression. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Furious, Lyra spun around and threw a hard slap toward Rowan's face. "Your assistant said Jasmine is a better fit to be your wife!"

Rowan caught her wrist effortlessly, frowning slightly. He knew his employees well. "Wesley would never say something like that."

"But that's exactly what he implied!" Lyra snapped, pressing her lips together stubbornly.

Seeing that she wasn't going to let this go, Rowan pulled out his phone and hit a speed dial.

"Mr. Jameson?" Wesley answered, sounding slightly nervous.

Lyra smiled nervously. "The little one is pretty active today. He must have known I was in a bad mood and came out to comfort me. Why don't you take me upstairs to rest..."

"Alright." Rowan stood up, but before carrying her, he didn't forget what had caught his eye. He reached out and picked up the piece of paper.

Lyra hadn't expected him to be so hyper-focused. Seeing his expression instantly darken, she instinctively took a step back in panic. "If I told you Wesley forced me to write that, would you believe me?"

The moment the words left her mouth, his warm hand clamped down gently on the back of her neck. The grip wasn't brutal, but it carried an undeniable, terrifying sense of total confinement.

Rowan stared down at Lyra, who was shrinking back in panic like a helpless bird with clipped wings. A chilling, suppressed fury swirled in his dark eyes.

The paper crumpled aggressively in his fist. A second later, he bent down, swept one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees, and effortlessly scooped her up bridal style. "Let's go up and rest."