I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra) novel Chapter 66

Horace stepped to my side, his gaze cold as he faced Steven. "You can say whatever you want about me, but to slander your own wife's reputation like this… Zephyra is making the right choice by divorcing you."

Was it my imagination, or did I detect a murderous edge in Horace’s voice?

I had no desire to argue with Steven any longer. "Forget him, Horace. Let's go back."

I started to lead Horace toward the room, but Steven’s hand shot out and gripped my wrist. I turned to glare at him. His handsome face was a mask of indifference, but his eyes bored into mine, and his words were colder than ice. "Zephyra, we are not divorced yet. Your uncle is sick. You should take me to see him."

I stared at Steven, my emotions in turmoil. I wanted nothing to do with him, but I knew his temper. He had no patience, and if I didn't take him, he wouldn't let this go. This was a hospital. I didn't want to cause a scene.

"Fine, I'll take you. But if you say one wrong word in front of Uncle Julian, I swear I won't—"

"I know," Steven cut in coldly. "Lead the way."

I ground my teeth, shook his hand off, and stalked back to the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Horace shoot Steven a look of pure ice.

When we entered the room, Julian was propped up against his pillows, completely absorbed in a book about chess strategy.

"Uncle Julian," I said softly.

He looked up. "Zephyra."

Steven, who had been behind me, stepped forward. Julian studied him for a moment. "And you are?"

"Of course," Horace replied cheerfully. He moved to the drawer with practiced ease, pausing by Steven to give him a look and a smirk. "Excuse me, Mr. Lancaster."

Steven returned a cool glare, then walked over to the table, poured a glass of water, and presented it to Julian at the same moment Horace arrived with the pills.

Julian looked up at the two of them, a peculiar expression on his face, before taking the medicine and swallowing it down.

Then, as if in some bizarre competition, both Steven and Horace grabbed knives and started peeling apples, slicing them into perfect wedges and arranging them on plates.

I stood beside Uncle Julian, watching them with an equally strange feeling. Horace was a good man—thoughtful and caring. Slicing fruit fit his personality perfectly. But Steven? He was not a man who concerned himself with domestic tasks. Seeing him peeling an apple felt as jarring as watching a king scrub a floor.

Just then, the silent Uncle Julian leaned toward me and whispered, his voice low enough for only me to hear, "Zephyra, I can see they are both exceptional men. But bringing your lover to meet your husband is a bit much, don't you think? Horace is a good-tempered man and won't say anything, but as his wife, you need to know your boundaries."