Accidentally Yours, My Super Rich Second Husband-Chapter 64: An Unwelcome Visitor

The living room was silent as Evander sat there. His outfit from earlier still on, as if he couldn’t be bothered to change, both slightly wrinkled from the frantic drive home earlier. His jacket had been discarded somewhere near the doorway, but he didn’t have the energy to retrieve it.

A muted light lit the room, its glow brushing against the walls and floor while the corners stayed cloaked in restless shadows.

In his right hand, a glass of deep red wine swirled slowly, the liquid catching the light in rippling patterns.

Leaning back on the couch, he looked relaxed, but the tension in his frame said otherwise.But the way his free hand tapped rhythmically against his thigh betrayed his tension. His jaw was set, and his eyes stared blankly at the coffee table in front of him, though he wasn’t really seeing it.

Evander took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. The memory of how he had driven like a madman earlier played vividly in his mind. He had been reckless, weaving through traffic with little regard for the rules, his only focus on getting home before she arrived.

Thank God I made it in time, he thought. He felt a bit of tension ease, his shoulders relaxing as the memory came to him. If she had met Ashton...

He shuddered at the thought, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a long sip. The wine burned slightly as it slid down his throat, but the warmth that spread through his chest was a welcome distraction from the cold dread curling in his stomach.

The idea of Ashton meeting her was like a knife twisting in his chest. His fingers dug into the fabric of the couch, knuckles whitening as he clenched his jaw tighter. No, he couldn’t allow himself to go there—not now, not ever.

Though she was Ashton’s mother, just thinking about her being near his son made his skin crawl, unease bubbling up inside him. He forced his breathing to slow, but his chest still felt too tight. Evander’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, the clock’s steady ticking felt like it was taunting him, rubbing in his inability to sit still.

He didn’t know why it affected him so deeply. Perhaps it was the past. Or maybe it was because Ashton, so bright and untainted, didn’t deserve to be caught in her web. Evander had worked too hard to build a safe world for his son, a life free of the chaos she had brought. Letting her back in, even for a moment, could ruin everything.

Running a hand through his hair, Evander exhaled a frustrated sigh. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough. He could still feel the adrenaline from earlier, from the reckless drive that now seemed both necessary and foolish. He’d been desperate to get home before she arrived, desperate to shield Ashton from her presence.

She wasn’t a monster—though appearances could be deceiving. She had charm and a way with words, but Evander knew better. He knew what lay beneath the surface, the damage she could inflict with a single conversation, a single glance. Her presence alone was a storm waiting to descend on everything he’d worked to protect.

Evander let out another breath, this one shakier than the last. He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble against his palms. He had to stay focused, grounded.

He let out a slow exhale, his grip on the glass tightening. "I never thought this day would actually come," he muttered to himself, his voice low and rough. The words hung in the air, feeling more like a sigh than a statement.

Meeting Ashton’s mother was the last thing he had ever wanted. He had spent years believing, or perhaps hoping, that it would never happen. But fate, as it often did, had other plans.

He was waiting for her to show up, but it wasn’t because he wanted to see her—not even close.

He tipped the glass again, the wine disappearing in another deep gulp. Evander rarely drank, but tonight felt like an exception—a necessity. He wasn’t sure he could face the evening ahead without something to dull the sharp edges of his nerves.

The soft creak of the front door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. His entire body tensed, the glass pausing halfway to his lips.

The sound of heels clicking against the polished floor echoed through the entryway. Every step she took carried that same self-assured rhythm he knew all too well.

Evander didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, he stared at the wine glass, watching as the remaining liquid trembled slightly from the movement of his hand.

"Hello, Evander," a voice greeted, smooth and almost musical.

His jaw tightened. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

She didn’t need to say a word—just standing there, she demanded the room’s attention. She removed her oversized sunglasses with a casual flick of her hand, revealing sharp hazel eyes framed by long lashes. Her crimson lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

She looked polished as ever in her black tailored pants and a shimmering silk blouse. Her hair, styled in soft waves, framed her face like she’d just stepped out of a magazine.

Evander’s eyes narrowed as his arms crossed over his chest. Other men would probably be falling over themselves by now. She had that effect—always had.

She was magnetic, alluring in a way that could make most forget their better judgment.

But not him.

He knew better.

She wasn’t just tainted; she was poison, dressed up to look like a dream.

Evander didn’t return her smile. He didn’t let anything show, his gaze steady on hers as he carefully placed the glass on the table.

She looked the same on the outside, and he doubted much had changed inside either.

His voice was quiet but sharp, with no trace of kindness.

"What are you doing here, Lydia?"

Lydia Morgan—his ex and the mother of his son, someone he despised with every fiber of his being.