Chapter 247: Chapter 247: Watch Your Words When Speaking to My Wife
Adrian Lancaster’s brow tightened, and the muscles in his arm instantly tensed into hard lines. An unmistakable force of resistance erupted from his tall frame.
"Maya Marshall, let go." His voice was extremely low, each word sounding as if it had been chiseled from the depths of an ice cellar, laced with palpable anger.
Far from letting go, Maya Marshall used the resistance from his arm to press her entire body even more tightly against him.
The scent of her expensive perfume, mixed with a deliberately crafted, cloying sweetness, aggressively filled the small space between them, trying to overwhelm everything else.
Growing bolder, she even turned her head and slowly, suggestively, rubbed her meticulously cared-for, smooth cheek against the front of his shirt.
Her posture was like that of a cat marking its territory, filled with a sense of self-important declaration.
"We haven’t seen each other in so long." Maya Marshall tilted her head up, her gaze obsessively locked on Adrian Lancaster’s stern jawline. Her voice was soft and syrupy, yet tinged with a reckless obstinance.
"Don’t you miss me? Adrian, I’ve missed you so much I feel like I’m going crazy."
Adrian Lancaster’s expression darkened completely, a frost settling between his brows.
A biting, hostile aura began to radiate from him, and even the surrounding air seemed to drop in temperature and congeal.
The rise and fall of his chest became pronounced—a sign of a volcano churning violently beneath a layer of ice, on the verge of eruption.
"Maya Marshall," he repeated, the warning in his voice thick and undeniable. He enunciated each word with chilling clarity. "I’m saying this one last time. Let. Go."
This time, Maya Marshall truly felt the violent rage threatening to erupt from beneath his icy exterior.
Her heart skipped a beat. She knew that if she kept clinging to him, she would truly cross a line and provoke his full fury.
So, with extreme reluctance, she slowly uncurled her fingers from their tight grip on his arm.
However, letting go didn’t mean she was leaving.
With a seemingly natural pivot of her exquisitely heeled foot, Maya Marshall swayed and repositioned herself, still standing so close to Adrian Lancaster’s side that she was nearly touching the fabric of his arm.
She again lifted her flawlessly made-up face, her chin held at a haughty angle. Her gaze, however, shot past Adrian Lancaster’s shoulder, landing on Wren Sutton, who had been standing silently nearby as if uninvolved.
The contempt and scrutiny in her eyes were undisguised, scanning Wren Sutton from head to toe like a searchlight, full of picky, condescending judgment.
"Secretary Sutton," Maya Marshall began, her voice a deliberately affected, sickly sweet whine. She drew out the last word, her tone implying the authority of a master questioning a servant. "What are you doing here? Don’t you have work to do?"
The evening breeze swept in from the sea, carrying a damp, salty scent as it gently brushed against their cheeks.
The breeze also swept away the last vestiges of languor and drowsiness in Wren Sutton’s eyes, remnants from the cozy atmosphere on the yacht.
Her hatred for Maya Marshall was nothing new.
’This woman knows perfectly well that I’m married to Adrian Lancaster, yet she keeps trying to butt in, time and time again. She’s completely shameless.’
Wren Sutton lifted her gaze, calmly meeting Maya Marshall’s provocative stare. Her tone was devoid of warmth, and she couldn’t be bothered to feign politeness.
"Where I am and whether I need to be working is none of your concern."
"You!" Maya Marshall, not expecting such a direct response, jabbed a finger at her in anger.
"How dare you use that tone with me? Be careful, or I’ll have Adrian fire you."
Upon hearing this, Wren Sutton let out a soft, almost contemptuous scoff.
The sound was quiet, yet it carried immense weight.
"The Rhodes Group’s personnel decisions are not for you to meddle in."
"Wren Sutton!" Provoked by her unflappable demeanor, Maya Marshall’s fury surged, and her voice rose. "Who do you think you are?"
Wren Sutton ignored her shrill, empty threat.
Her gaze, as calm as still water, drifted past the posturing Maya Marshall and landed silently on Adrian Lancaster.
Her eyes held none of the questioning or panic expected of a wife who finds her husband being harassed, nor did they show the cold indifference or mockery of a detached observer.
There was only complete, unreserved trust, and a quiet expectation.
She was waiting for Adrian Lancaster to answer the question himself—to define her identity and to put an end to this farce.
Adrian Lancaster caught his wife’s gaze perfectly. The instant their eyes met, his already dark expression visibly hardened, and the air around him plunged to a freezing point.
Without a shred of hesitation, and with a clear, undisguised look of revulsion, he took a large step back, creating a definitive distance between himself and Maya Marshall.
Then, he raised his arm and pulled Wren Sutton by her slender shoulders.
The movement was firm and undeniable. In the absolute posture of a protector, he pulled her securely to his side, holding her tightly.
The motion was fluid and perfectly natural, yet it was heavy with possession, protection, and declaration.
It was a stark contrast to his stiff, resistant, and even disgusted reaction to Maya Marshall’s touch just moments before.
"Maya Marshall," Adrian Lancaster said, his voice quiet but laced with unquestionable authority and a chilling severity.
"Listen closely. Wren Sutton is my wife. She is my, Adrian Lancaster’s, legal wife, and the only woman I love."
He paused, his gaze sweeping like an icy blade over Maya Marshall’s suddenly pale face, then continued.
"When you speak to my wife, watch your tone. And you’d do well to remember your own place."
"Furthermore..." Adrian Lancaster leaned forward slightly, and an overwhelming pressure washed over Maya Marshall. The warning in his voice was laced with ice.
"You don’t have the right to call her ’Secretary Sutton’ so casually, let alone order her around, command her, or presume to pass judgment on her."
Under Adrian Lancaster’s merciless rebuke, the sweet smile Maya Marshall had so carefully maintained—one she had practiced a thousand times—suddenly fractured, hanging stiffly on her lips.
Crushing humiliation and a surge of bitter resentment gnawed at her heart like venomous snakes.
She took a deep breath, and fueled by a stubborn refusal to admit defeat, she forced an even brighter, yet more artificial, smile onto her face.
The smile was purely superficial; her eyes held nothing but cold resentment and a hint of madness.
She deliberately avoided Adrian Lancaster’s piercing gaze. ’If I don’t look at him,’ she seemed to think, ’if I don’t directly face his rejection, then those harsh words he just said were just things he was forced to say. They don’t count.’
"Adrian..." Maya Marshall deliberately drew out his name, her voice thick with feigned grievance and a self-righteous, magnanimous sort of tolerance.
"Don’t say that. I know. I understand everything."
She lowered her voice, her eyes flicking toward Wren Sutton before quickly looking away, as if to say, ’I understand your difficult situation.’
"You’re only saying this for Grandma Lancaster’s sake, to protect the Lancaster family’s reputation."
Maya Marshall was trying to find a way to save face after this utter defeat, and to give herself a reason to cling to her delusions.
"After all, your family forced you to marry Wren Sutton. This marriage was never what you wanted."
