Chapter 227 An Eye for an Eye

Dalton seemed completely lost, staring blankly ahead while everyone around him buzzed about the cello performance. It was as if he had drifted away from reality.

Lydia’s heart raced with anxiety. She cautiously glanced at his expression and softly called out, “Dalton…” But he didn’t respond, caught in his own world.

Just then, Walter approached. “Ms. Lydia Stone, Mr. Aniston wants to see you.”

Startled, she instinctively looked over at Chandler, meeting his intense, cold gaze. A knot tightened in her stomach. She knew something was off.

Feeling guilty about her actions, she gently tugged on Dalton’s sleeve, hoping he would say something to ease the tension. But he remained utterly unresponsive, lost in thought.

With a resigned sigh, Lydia followed Walter to Chandler.

They entered a dimly lit corridor, where an unsettling silence hung in the air. Chandler tossed a bottle of liquid down in front of her, his face devoid of emotion. “Drink it.”

Lydia felt a chill run down her spine. “Chandler, what is this?”

“You don’t know? This is what you were planning to give Meryl,” he replied, casually smoking a cigarette, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of disdain and impatience. “So, are you going to drink it yourself, or should I have Walter force it down your throat?”

Walter felt a strong aversion and was filled with contempt for Lydia.

Lydia’s legs felt weak with fear, her lips pale as she gazed pleadingly at Chandler. A harsh beam of moonlight streamed through the window, highlighting his striking features and making his cold demeanor seem even more intimidating. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, not bothering to look at her.

Tears welled in her eyes.

When she stayed silent for what felt like an eternity, Walter interjected, “Ms. Lydia Stone, you’re perfectly capable of drinking this yourself, so please don’t make me force it down your throat. My girlfriend would kill me if she found out.”

A tear rolled down Lydia’s cheek. “Chandler, Meryl didn’t drink it. Please, let me go this time, okay?”

The drink was spiked with enough powerful ingredients to cause serious stomach issues for at least three days.

Chandler shot her an indifferent glance. “She didn’t drink it because she was saving it for you. Did you even consider the consequences of messing around at the company’s annual party?” He let out a cold laugh, crushing his cigarette butt underfoot, clearly unwilling to waste any more time on her. “Or do you want Dalton to drink it for you?”

A cold sweat broke out on Lydia’s back at the thought. If this got back to Dalton, her standing with him would be ruined. Biting her lip, she finally said, “I’ll drink it!”

Chandler watched with a smirk as she downed the concoction. Almost immediately, a loud rumble echoed from her stomach. Clutching her abdomen, she felt an urgent need to find a restroom. But as she turned a corner, she found Dalton blocking her way.

His eyes were cold, radiating an intimidating energy, and his gaze felt almost predatory. Lydia’s heart raced with dread. Tentatively, she asked, “Dalton, what’s wrong?”

Dalton’s eyes were devoid of warmth as they fixed on her, as if she were a stranger. “I gave you a chance, Lydia. Why did you have to lie to me?”

Lydia froze at his words.

“You’ve let me down. You’ve deceived me all these years. The person who played the cello when I was in a coma wasn’t you at all. Why did you pretend it was you and lead me to believe that?”

No one could fathom just how significant that person playing cello was to Dalton all those years ago.