Lyndon sighed. He knew it—Casper had something to say about Tilda again.

Furrowing his brows, he remained silent as Casper continued his tirade.

“Lyndon, to be honest, your wife is overly sensitive and narrow-minded. Why does she have to make things difficult for an innocent girl like Rita?" Casper's voice was filled with frustration. "All Rita wants is to work hard and build her career. Why does Tilda have to be so ruthless and relentless in ruining her?"

Lyndon pinched the bridge of his nose. His patience was wearing thin. "Could there be some misunderstanding?" he asked, his tone calm but firm. "Tilda isn't like that. We talked about it, and she said she wouldn't make things difficult for Rita anymore."

Casper let out a mocking laugh. "And you just believe her? From what I've observed, she's two-faced-saying she would leave Rita alone while secretly undermining her behind your back."

A flicker of displeasure crossed Lyndon's eyes. "Casper," he warned, his voice cooling. "Mind your words. Tilda is my wife. I know what kind of person she is."

"But the facts are right in front of you!" Casper retorted, his tone sharp and unwavering. "I'm not lying."

Lyndon exhaled slowly, turning his gaze to the dazzling city lights outside his office window. "Alright," he finally said, choosing his words carefully. "Let's leave it for now. I'LL look into it."

Why were they clashing again?

Lyndon didn't want to believe that Tilda would go back on her word and secretly target Rita behind his back.

What exactly happened?

He sat in silence for a moment, then pulled out his phone and dialed Tilda's number.

Tilda had just stepped out of the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel, as she applied a facial mask.

Her phone rang. Seeing Lyndon's name on the screen, she picked up.

"Lyndon?" she answered lazily. "What are you doing?" Lyndon asked.

“Just finished showering. Putting on a facial mask," she said. "What about Sheldon? Did he go to bed?"

She settled into a comfortable spot on the couch, adjusting the mask on her face.

Lyndon chuckled. "I suppose he did." Tilda blinked. "What do you mean?"

Lyndon laughed softly. "I'm still at the company. Mom and Dad are home with him. It's past nine now, so I assume he's already asleep."

Hearing that he was still at work, she asked, "Have you finished your tasks? Are you on your way home now?"

"I've got a video conference in a bit," Lyndon replied. Tilda shifted on the couch. "Alright. So why are you calling?"

She knew how he was about work. If he was busy, he wouldn't just call for no reason.

He wasn't the type to suddenly miss her in the middle of work and call just to chat. "Do I have to call you for a reason?" Lyndon asked, amused. "It's not that," Tilda replied, "but it's just not like you."

Lyndon raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "What does that mean, exactly?"