Ellis was a fool; he thought the scheme she laid out for him was meant to help him.
Actually, everything she did was for herself— to gain favor with Lyndon.
Whether Brice succeeded or not didn't matter.
Either way, she'd come out ahead. Her tip-off would surely change Lyndon's attitude toward her.
Meanwhile, Lyndon stormed down the corridor, opening one private room after another.
Door after door opened—empty. Then he reached the final one and found it locked.
His expression darkened. Without hesitation, Lyndon raised his foot and delivered a brutal kick.
The door burst open with a loud bang.
Inside, the scene hit him like a gut punch. A man and a woman were tangled together on the bed.
The man was completely naked, and the woman beneath him was also without clothes.
Lyndon's entire frame went rigid, his presence instantly turning suffocating.
Brice, who was enjoying sex, froze, turning as pale as a ghost.
In a panic, he scrambled off the woman and grabbed a blanket to cover himself.
"Mr. Fernandez!" he stammered, voice trembling. "You—you should've knocked!"
Without hesitation, he strode forward, reaching out to grab Brice and drag him off the bed.
But before he could make contact, a woman's terrified scream cut through the room, freezing him in place.
Startled, Lyndon shifted his gaze toward the woman huddled in the sheets-his brows knit in confusion.
It wasn't Tilda.
His outstretched hand froze mid-air, then slowly fell to his side. The icy hostility around him began to dissipate.
Brice's eyes darted nervously, his voice defensive. "Mr. Fernandez, what's the meaning of this? You burst in here without knocking!"
Lyndon stared at him for a long second, then retracted his hand. "Apologies. I made a mistake. Carry on."
With that, he turned and walked out of the room.
Brice sat there speechless, his heart still pounding from the shock. After seeing the murderous intent in Lyndon's eyes, he had already lost interest in continuing his passionate encounter.
He exhaled slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow.