My ex-husband’s nightmare (Lydia and Mason) novel Chapter 157

Chapter 157

Mason

I walked beside Lydia. It had been two days since the police incident, and we finally got a hold of mom. It wasn’t as hard as she expected.

“It didn’t have to be in the penthouse,” Lydia said as we stepped into the elevator.

“It’s for the best, at least we’d have fewer suspicions from her.”

The clevator dinged and opened. We stepped out together, our shoes clicking on the tiles in the same rhythm.

“Are you ready?” I asked, as we stood in front of the door. Lydia inhaled sharply, “Yes” I nodded, parting the side of my pocket, “The recorder is in position, too.” I said, dipping my hand into my pocket, I fetched a pen and placed it in my chest pocket.

I punched the pin and stepped inside. Mom would be arriving in a few minutes, and before then, I had to get Lydia to relax.

“Do you want water? Tea? Or anything to help you relax.” I asked her, and she inhaled a scent of breath.

“Water, I’ll have water.” She said, walking to the kitchen, which was opposite the sitting room.

“I’ll get it for you,” but she brushed me off, “I can get water for myself.”

While she was away, the doorbell went off. Mom was here. I wasn’t ready to see her or speak to her yet, but I had to fit Lydia. She had no idea that Lydia was here with me.

She accepted my invitation to come, thinking it was time to settle things between us. I strode over to the door and opened it. “Hey, son.” She greeted, cheerfully holding a basket of fruit. I stepped away from the door, giving her space to walk in.

“Is Zoe in? I got her favourite, grapes.”

“She’s out,” I replied flatly walking behind her. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Of course I had to, I can’t come visit my son empty handed.”

“Whose purse is that?” Mom asked, settling the basket of fruit on the table while eying Lydia’s purse.

“Mine, do you like the design too?” Lydia asked from behind. Mom’s head jerked towards the direction of the

voice.

Lydia walked into the sitting room, holding a bottle of water. She wore a small grin as she sat next to her bag.

Mom looked over to me and raised a brow, demanding an explanation, “Why is she here?”

“The same reason why you are here,” Lydia answered. “Oh, you brought fruits.”

11:46 Sat, Sep 27 M

Chapter 157

“They aren’t for you.” Mom said defensively.

“I never said I wanted them.” Lydia snapped, scrunching her face in disgust.

15:55 vouchers!

Her tone didn’t sit well with Mom, “Mason, tell her to leave.” Victoria said in a sharp voice, “If she stays, I

leave.”

“No one is leaving.” I stated matter–of–factly. “We are here to discuss, and this has to do with the press conference.”

Mom was about to protest, but it was too late. I signalled Lydia, and she started. “Why did you send Julia to meet me? Is it because you are scared?”

“Scared?” Mom scoffed, “Why will I be scared?” She asked in disbelief.

“I asked myself that question too. Why are you scared to face me?” Lydia said, casually leaning into the couch. “Maybe it’s because you did something bad.”

“I am not ready to listen to you.” Mom rose to her feet, clutching her purse, “If you can’t kick her out of your house, then I’ll be leaving.”

“Sit!” Lydia said in a calm voice, “I haven’t even started speaking.” Her tone may be gentle, but it carried an authoritative undertone.

Mom paused, and spun around, a loud chuckle escaped her lips. “Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?” She questioned, raising a brow. She didn’t wait for answers before walking away.

“Victoria, if you still have any regard for me as your son, sit,” I stated sternly, my voice carrying a quiet threat.

Mom’s feet froze, her body turned rigid. She turned, this time, her eyes were red, from anger or maybe pain. She glared at Lydia.

“It’s all because of you,” she pointed at her screaming, “my son has never spoken to me in such a tone until you came into his life.” She was yelling, but at least she started walking back.

“I curse the day you came into his life, why didn’t you just die in the fire? Why are you trying to pull him down with you?” Mom asked panting heavily.

“Are you done?” Lydia asked, “Good, cause I’m just about to begin.” She crossed one leg over the other, exuding control, like a woman who had everything in her palm.

“Was lying to your son not enough? What do you think would happen if I held a press conference too and told my side of the story? Aren’t you afraid of karma? That this will come back to bite you?”

“If you had left Mason’s life, I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths.”

“So

you

do admit to using cheap tricks to try to bring me down?” Lydia questioned.

*Cheap trick?” Mom laughed, “I merely exposed your true side. It needed a conference, and I did that,” mom replied.

11:46 Sat, Sep 27 M …

Chapter 157

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“By deceiving the public and spilling lies?” Lydia fist her palm, anger sipping into each word. She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes. When she opened them, the anger was gone, replaced by a soft look.

“I never lied, the truth is whatever the public believes, and if they believe you killed my husband, then you did it,” Mom said through gritted teeth.

$78

She continued, “So what if you didn’t kill him? The truth is what I say it is.” She declared. With each sentence, her patience slipped.

Lydia was silent. “What are you silent about? Too stunned to speak?” Mom pestered, fuelling Lydia’s quietness. “You should have thought about this before you tried to take my son away from me.” She ground her teeth.

“If you hadn’t pulled Mason and Julia apart, then I wouldn’t have had to use such a cheap trick. You used your twins to separate two people who were in love and you expected me to seat still?”

“I never loved Julia, it was you who wanted her as a daughter–in–law and orchestrated the whole pregnancy stuff to tie me down with her.” I chipped in.

“I did it for you, for the company, for your future.”

A wave of anger surged through me, I tried to keep it down, reminding myself we weren’t here to talk about me and Julia.

“Victoria, take back what you said at the conference. Tell the truth to the public.” Lydia said. She uncapped the bottle and took a little sip.

“Why do you think I will do that? Who do you think you are to dictate stuff to me?”

“If you want to keep what’s left of your dignity, I’d suggest you do what Lydia has asked,” I advised, pulling out the pen I had kept in my pocket.

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