Lucas's icy brows furrowed deeply, his expressionless face resembling a sculpture carved from frost.
Yet his hands gripped Beauty tightly with an unyielding dominance.
"Regardless, I must thank you for saving my wife.
Upon returning to the company, I'll have my assistant transfer a sum of gratitude money to your account."
The moment these words left his lips, Dyson's expression darkened.
Though he maintained composure for the sake of his mother and Beauty, his face stiffened almost imperceptibly before he replied coolly, "There's no need for that, Mr. Marson.
I saved Beauty out of personal regard for her—not for any reward from you."
When mentioning Beauty, a flicker of concern and affection flashed in Dyson's eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
He lifted his deep, piercing gaze to meet Lucas's, and for a moment, the air between them turned frigid.
Beauty stood awkwardly between them, mortified.
