Chapter 1572 - 1573: The Wedding Without a Groom [1]

Lydia stood at the entrance of the stairwell, looking at the man slumped on the sofa. She lifted her leg, wanting to go downstairs, wanting to go hug him, wanting to give Jorge a bit of warmth.

The leg she’d just lifted froze in midair.

She couldn’t go down. Every man has his own pride; Jorge, this fragile, wouldn’t want her to see him like this, would he.

Lydia stood at the stairwell, her eyes filled with aching tenderness.

At last, the man sitting on the sofa straightened up. Through the moonlight, Lydia could see the coldness on his face and feel the chill emanating from him.

Jorge Saxton sat on the sofa, sharpness flashing between his brows, carrying surging anger and hatred.

"Damien Morris, you think that just because you used your own daughter to rope in the Crown Prince of the Seys Family in City C, I can’t do anything to you?"

"Keep dreaming! Damien Morris, I’m going to make you pay for everything! I’m going to make all of you pay the price for what you’ve done!!"

"Your two daughters—I’m going to destroy them both as well!!"

"Damien Morris, your days of glory are numbered!"

Jorge’s face was twisted with rage. Maybe because he had nowhere to vent it, he grabbed the cup on the table and smashed it hard onto the ground!

Bang—!

Glass shards flew everywhere!

In the darkness of the stairwell, Lydia watched Jorge vent his fury, lips pressed together without making a sound, her eyes veiled with deep, aching sorrow.

That night, the food was stored in the fridge; Jorge sat on the sofa, his eyes full of hatred for the Morris siblings.

And Lydia just stood at the stairwell, gazing at him, aching for him.

But Jorge didn’t know. He knew nothing. At that time, Jorge’s whole heart was consumed by hatred, and that was what eventually led to Lydia leaving.

-

That night, when Jorge got up, Lydia slipped back to the bed in their room ahead of him, pretending to be asleep, eyes closed, silent.

Jorge changed his clothes and, afraid of disturbing Lydia’s rest, lay down on the sofa in the room and went to sleep there.

Only when Lydia heard his steady breathing did she open her eyes to look at the man already fast asleep, unable to help murmuring softly, "Jorge—"

-

After that, Jorge became even busier. Lydia knew Jorge was forcing himself to become more outstanding, climbing to the peak for the sake of revenge.

Lydia didn’t say anything, just quietly accompanied Jorge for more than a month.

At a little over three months pregnant, Lydia changed into loose-fitting clothes, tidied herself up neat and clean, and sat on the sofa at night waiting for Jorge to come home.

This time, Jorge still came back very late.

"Jorge, let’s talk."

Lydia spoke softly to Jorge, who was about to go upstairs.

Jorge paused mid-step, nodded slightly, turned back and sat down on the sofa. "What is it, Lydia?"

It was obvious Jorge was very tired.

Lydia’s eyes shimmered as she spoke gently, "Jorge, we’ve been together for over ten years, haven’t we? Time flies. Jorge, I want to get married."

Jorge looked at Lydia in silence for quite a while before pressing his lips together and saying, "Why bring this up all of a sudden?"

"It’s not sudden. I’ve thought about it for a long time. I’ve been thinking about this these past days. Jorge, since we’re already the closest people to each other, then let me rightfully become your wife, okay? I want to truly become your family."

Even more, she wanted the child to be born with a rightful name, carrying his father’s surname.

Jorge pressed his lips together. "Lydia, in this life I will definitely marry you. There’s no one I would marry but you. But lately I really have a lot on my plate. This isn’t an excuse, and it’s not a brush-off—it’s real. So I just can’t pull myself away to prepare a wedding, Lydia..."

Lydia wrapped her arms around Jorge, letting out a low laugh, her voice soft: "We don’t need a grand wedding. As long as you show up in a suit, I’ll marry you."