CHAPTER 149: CHAPTER 149: HAVE YOU AND LACHLAN WYATT SLEPT TOGETHER?

Everyone fell silent for a few minutes after Martin Hawthorne finished speaking. Their expressions varied, especially Steven Rhodes, who instinctively looked at Iris Crawford. He noticed she looked pale, clutching the bed sheet slightly. She then forced a smile and said, "Why do you guys always care so much about where Lachlan Wyatt goes?"

"..." James Chesterton spat angrily, "It’s outrageous! Our team member is seriously injured, and he’s out having a good time. He sets no example whatsoever!"

"Exactly!"

Peach voiced her indignation, "Is he still there? I should go drag him back!"

Martin Hawthorne looked up at the ceiling, "Not sure, he called me today."

"You didn’t go?" James Chesterton pressed on, frustrated. "You know to stay with Iris Crawford, but Lachlan Wyatt, with an IQ of 200, doesn’t know he should stick by her!"

Peach sneered, "Does he really have an IQ of 200? I think even 20 is too much!"

James Chesterton followed her, appearing ready to hold him accountable, "But he did test at 200 before, though now I feel, despite his high IQ, he’s acting like a fool."

Sitting in the bar, Lachlan Wyatt suddenly sneezed, unaware of what he would face next. Annoyed, he glanced at the women gyrating around him, feeling bored yet unsure of what he truly wanted to do.

He had been in this state for a long time. Every night he closed his eyes, the image of Iris Crawford marrying Dante haunted him, making it impossible for him to sleep. Only after drinking could he manage to sleep a little.

Every time he awakened from the dream, her face lingered in his mind, which made Lachlan Wyatt furious. Why could Iris Crawford affect him so deeply?

Sitting in the booth, Lachlan grabbed his hair, as a blonde foreign woman approached him with enthusiasm, asking if he wanted to dance with her. But Lachlan, with a numb expression, replied, "Don’t bother me."

As soon as he finished speaking, he remembered Iris Crawford defying him, resulting in him gritting his teeth and pulling the woman into his arms forcefully, adding with a sneer, "Women being too forward isn’t necessarily a good thing."

"Is that so? If you want something, you have to be proactive to pursue it," the woman smirked. "And that applies to you too."

The words sounded just like something Iris Crawford would say.

Lachlan grunted, and the woman nestled against Lachlan’s chest, gently teasing his dickie, saying, "Are you heading home alone tonight?"

Lachlan replied, "Could it possibly be with a dog?"

The foreign woman was momentarily taken aback by Lachlan’s unromantic words.

Perhaps it wasn’t that he was unromantic; he simply wasn’t interested in her.

Instead of getting angry, the woman seemed exhilarated. "That’s fine too, darling. Your eyes do resemble those of a wolfdog."

Foreigners are quite uninhibited, even their flirting is so blatant. Lachlan didn’t release her, letting her hand explore his body over his clothes.

He thought that he could resist Iris Crawford’s intrusion, yet discovered that whenever she wasn’t by his side, he missed her greatly.

Thus, Lachlan fought against it this way, as if combating instinct.

He believed humans all favored the new and disliked the old, and he was no exception.

As long as he found a new flame, the name Iris Crawford and everything it represented would quickly disappear from his world!

But the day Lachlan was leaving, the woman staying with him helped him to the door, wanting to leave with him, only for Lachlan to say, "See you next time."

The group of hostesses trailing behind him watched as he prepared to leave without any of them, shaking their heads.

"It’s been a whole week already."

"Every night he calls upon so many people, yet always departs alone. It’s quite peculiar."

A few women, dressed flamboyantly, whispered in English, yet Lachlan heard them. Rubbing his temples, the tipsiness made him reluctant to mind those women. He originally thought drinking would help him sleep better, yet he didn’t anticipate his first thought while intoxicated was wishing to sleep with Iris Crawford.

Is there any justice?

She was his elder brother’s woman, his sister-in-law!

Could he not let go of this woman?

Lachlan settled the bill and left. The waiting driver opened the door of the expensive business car, and those unable to accompany him on the ride could only crane their necks, their faces showing disappointment.

"Do you think he’s possibly...secretly in love with men, hiring women to forcefully alter his sexual orientation?"

"Impossible, sexual orientation is quite free now, and gay men aren’t bad either."

"Then I can’t comprehend why he behaves this way."

The sexy women sighed, "Sigh, understanding what wealthy men think is truly baffling."

"The more mysterious the man, the more alluring he is, isn’t it?"

The women joked among themselves, watching Lachlan leave, then returned to entertain the next batch of guests. Only Lachlan, after wandering in circles, arrived back at The Royal Palace, lost in thought alone outside the gates.

The Steward, Raymond, happened to return outside, seeing Lachlan standing there and curiously asking, "Second Prince, why are you here at this hour—ah, you reek of alcohol. Have you gone drinking again?"

He escorted Lachlan into the bedroom, then bent slightly in respect, "I have some business to attend to at Miss Crawford’s place, Second Prince, please rest early."

"Miss Crawford."

Lachlan repeated the name, "Shouldn’t it be Princess Crawford?"

"Because of the kidnapping incident, she was injured, The First Prince means everything should wait until her health improves."

Raymond spoke mindlessly, yet it deeply wounded Lachlan, "After all, her becoming Princess is a foregone conclusion, a few months delay isn’t significant. It’s most important for her to recover properly."

Listen, everyone already regards Iris Crawford as the future Princess.

Lachlan couldn’t believe it. The woman who had lived with him for two years, suddenly would, become his sister-in-law.

How ironic, how ironic.

Lachlan clenched his fingers, "But why so late, is anything else occupying her?"

Raymond wiped the sweat from his forehead and said, "The Prince feared that Miss Crawford might find it uncomfortable to stay elsewhere, so after her condition stabilized, he arranged for the medical team to stay at The Royal Palace. This way, Miss Crawford can also rest here, which is more convenient than the hospital. Moreover, it makes it easier for the Prince to take care of her."

"..." Never thought Dante had such a thoughtful side.

Lachlan Wyatt felt bitterness in his heart as he lowered his voice, "You mean Iris Crawford has moved back now?"

"Yes, an hour ago, we just got all the medical team settled in." No wonder Raymond looked so busy; he probably had arranged for quite a few guests. He still maintained a respectful tone towards Lachlan, "Just right, the Second Prince could also have a check-up, the doctors are all here in The Royal Palace, it would be good for us to do a check-up too. You’ve been drinking a lot these days; why not ask a doctor to take a look?"

"No need."

Lachlan knew Raymond meant well, but he still refused immediately and coldly walked towards his bedroom after saying no. Watching Raymond respectfully retreat, the man opened the bedroom door.

An empty bedroom.

This foreign Royal Palace really doesn’t feel as warm as Iris Crawford’s home back in the country.

Once upon a time, he and she lived together, even going to and from work together, just looking up, he could see that little woman’s alluring yet resolute and cold face, her fox-like eyes flashing with self-protective brilliance, always wary of him, yet enticing him.

Taking a deep breath, Lachlan felt as if the alcohol had sobered him up, but he felt even more intoxicated. Unable to sleep in his bedroom, he snuck out without a trace, just as he did last time, and climbed through the window directly into Iris Crawford’s bedroom.

This time, Lachlan was stunned.

Iris Crawford’s bedroom was brightly lit, unlike the scene of deep sleep at night. She seemed to be quarreling with someone; the argument echoed from the bathroom.

Lachlan nimbly landed on the floor and approached, hearing Iris Crawford’s voice, "Dante, what are you doing, I am bathing."

"What’s wrong with watching my fiancée bathe?"

"I told you, we’re just in a cooperative relationship!"

"A cooperative relationship, isn’t this also part of the cooperative price?"

Dante, wearing a bathrobe, eyed Iris Crawford who was dressed similarly, "Besides, you’re still in the healing phase of your wound, the doctors have urged you to be careful while bathing. Am I not helping you bathe to prevent your wound from getting soaked?"

Iris Crawford looked wary, "No need, I can do it myself, with the mirror’s help, there’s no need for you to get involved, Prince, you should rest."

"Alright, I’ll go sleep outside, you can manage on your own after you’re done."

Ungrateful, Dante cursed in his heart, preparing to leave, but Iris Crawford called from behind, "Go sleep in your own room!"

"If I can’t bathe with you, can’t I at least sleep next to you?"

Dante had never seen such an ungrateful fiancée; after all, he was a Prince! Did this woman have no sense of rank?

Could it be that he had spoiled her too much?

"Then why can you sleep with my brother?"

Dante asked Iris Crawford angrily, "You’re my fiancée; if I can’t do it, why does my brother get to?"

"I’ve known him for two years..." Iris Crawford didn’t know how to explain to Dante, "Besides, even if something had happened between me and your brother before, it was in the past. Why are you concerned about it now?"

"Did you and he..." Dante’s voice suddenly turned cold, indicating his change of mood, "sleep together?"

Iris Crawford was taken aback, taking two steps back.

The usually sharp-tongued Iris found herself as if stripped of her spiked armor at this moment, momentarily at a loss for how to explain these things.

Love and hatred all truly existed, but in the end, are they not defeated by fate, defeated by time?

Iris Crawford turned her face away, "I’ve told you before, my past has nothing to do with you."

"Oh?" Dante’s words carried a tone of belittlement, "I want to check if you’re clean, I wouldn’t want your personal life to bring shame to The Royal Family!"

Iris Crawford’s face turned pale, not yet having a chance to speak, when the glass door of the bathroom was shattered with a loud crash from outside!

Shards of glass flew everywhere, with some debris landing near their feet.

Looking up in disbelief, only one person could have such an entrance...

Through the misty heat, a man with a tight, muscular back stepped in through the shattered doorway, turning to gaze at the two of them locked in confrontation.

Iris Crawford looked on, shocked, realizing that Lachlan Wyatt’s fist was bleeding; had he just smashed the glass door?

Some of those glass shards were even embedded in his fingers!

Lachlan swung the hand that had shattered the glass, letting the stuck fragments and blood form a path of red in the air, as he squinted, his mismatched black and blue eyes stunningly beautiful.

Human nature and beastly desires housed themselves in the two colors of his eyes, as if splitting his personality in two.

Iris Crawford recalled what Peach had said—

"Could it be that Lachlan Wyatt also has a psychopathic personality?"

A feeling of suffocation rose up as the woman stared in astonishment at Lachlan Wyatt’s entrance. Just moments ago, Dante had been questioning her about whether she had slept with Lachlan Wyatt.

Had she slept with Lachlan Wyatt?

Had she slept with such a reckless, audacious man?

Word by word, Lachlan said, "Yes, we did. What about it?"

Dante’s throat tightened, instinctively looking at Iris Crawford, his gaze as if perceiving her as tainted.

Lachlan stepped forward, pulling Iris Crawford forcefully to his side with his bleeding hand, "Come here."

Then, he looked up, fixing a beastly gaze on his brother’s face, "She’s not yours. Give her to me."