Accidentally Yours, My Super Rich Second Husband-Chapter 139: Lunch Full of Tension

Delphinia sat upright in her seat, trying her best to appear composed. The VVIP room was filled with bright, natural light streaming in through the large window. She inhaled slowly, attempting to suppress the nervous energy vibrating through her veins.

She, Evander, and Ashton had arrived at this top-tier restaurant to meet Lydia. Of course, she thought. A place like this was the obvious choice. One was Evander Walton, the wealthiest man in the country, and the other was Lydia Morgan, an internationally renowned supermodel. If the media got wind of this meeting, the gossip columns would explode.

Delphinia subtly glanced at Evander. He appeared perfectly calm, his posture relaxed, his fingers idly tapping against the side of his glass. Ashton, too, seemed unaffected, his face neutral from any expression. Yet, Delphinia felt as if she were the only one sitting on a bed of nails. Why was she the one feeling anxious when this was a meeting between Lydia and Ashton? She clenched her hands in her lap, hoping to steady herself.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, and the door opened. A waitress stepped inside, leading Lydia into the room. Delphinia’s gaze met Lydia’s immediately, and for a fleeting moment, she saw it—the flicker of surprise in the woman’s expression.

Delphinia didn’t need to wonder why. It was obvious. Lydia hadn’t expected her to be here.

But Lydia was quick to recover. The moment of shock faded, replaced by a polite, well-practiced smile as she walked gracefully toward the table.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting," Lydia said, her voice smooth, almost too polite. She took the seat directly across from Delphinia, completing the rectangle.

Before the silence could stretch too long, Delphinia took it upon herself to respond. "It’s alright. We just arrived as well."

Lydia’s smile lingered as she turned toward Delphinia. "I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Lydia Morgan."

Delphinia returned the smile, albeit a little stiffer. "Delphinia Walton."

For a moment, neither spoke. Then, Delphinia reached for the menu the waitress had left behind. "Should we order?" she suggested, eager to shift the focus away from awkward introductions.

The others agreed, and soon, they were scanning the menu. Delphinia had barely skimmed over the options when she heard Lydia’s gentle voice. "Ashton, what would you like?"

To her surprise, Ashton didn’t respond to Lydia. Instead, he turned to Delphinia. "Delphinia, you pick for me. Something I’ll like."

The entire room froze.

Delphinia’s fingers tightened around the menu as she felt Lydia’s gaze shift toward her. It was a subtle, fleeting moment, but Delphinia could feel the weight of it—Lydia’s surprise, the sting of the unspoken words. Ashton had just openly dismissed his biological mother’s question and turned to her instead.

Even Evander, ever composed, was suddenly very interested in the water glass in front of him. His gaze remained fixed downward, offering no assistance.

Delphinia cleared her throat, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. "Uh... how about grilled salmon? You like seafood."

Ashton nodded without hesitation. "Okay."

Lydia blinked, then hesitated before asking softly, "Seafood is your favorite?"

Ashton shook his head. "I like it, but my favorite food is everything Delphinia cooks."

Delphinia nearly dropped the menu.

Her eyes darted toward Evander, silently begging for help. But her dear husband was busy avoiding her gaze. Typical.

The tension in the room was suffocating, though Ashton himself looked utterly unfazed. Lydia’s lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but she pressed them together instead, forcing another smile.

The waitress soon returned to take their orders, providing a much-needed distraction. As their meals were confirmed, Delphinia allowed herself a brief exhale of relief.

But the relief was short-lived.

As they waited for the food, Lydia took the opportunity to make conversation. She turned toward Ashton with an earnest, almost hesitant expression. "So, Ashton... how have you been? School must be keeping you busy."

Ashton shrugged. "It’s alright. I usually finish my homework early, so I have time to watch Delphinia cook dinner."

Lydia faltered but quickly recovered. "That’s nice. Do you like cooking?"

"I like helping Delphinia," Ashton said simply.

Another beat of silence. Lydia smiled, but it was thinner this time. "Do you have any favorite subjects in school?"

"Math. Delphinia always helps me with the difficult problems."

Delphinia’s palms started to feel clammy. The air-conditioning was running, yet she felt as though she were sitting in a furnace. Ashton’s every answer somehow looped back to her, turning her into the center of attention when all she wanted was to fade into the background.

This was supposed to be Lydia and Ashton’s time together, yet Ashton seemed determined to drag her into every response.

Delphinia inwardly groaned, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands. Ashton, sweetheart, please... I love you, but stop saying my name.

She appreciated his affection—really, she did. Every time he mentioned her, it felt like a sweet reassurance that she mattered to him. But right now? Right now, she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the floor.

With each passing second, she could feel Lydia’s gaze flickering toward her, analyzing, assessing. And the longer this went on, the harder it became to ignore the awkward tension in the air.

Focus on her, Ashton. Not me. Not me.

Then, suddenly, Ashton turned to her and took her hand. "Delphinia, come with me to the restroom."

Delphinia nearly sighed in relief at the chance to escape. "Alright," she said quickly, rising from her chair.

As they left the room, she swore she could feel Lydia’s eyes following her.

The moment they stepped outside into the hallway, Delphinia let out a breath. Ashton, ever composed, merely led the way to the restrooms. He entered the men’s, and Delphinia stepped into the ladies’ room.

She turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run before cupping some in her hands and splashing it against her face. The sensation was a shock, a welcome contrast to the suffocating warmth in the private dining room.

She gripped the edges of the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

This lunch couldn’t end soon enough.