Lyra stood at the threshold of the Moreau mansion, the photograph clutched tightly in her hand. The nanny had barely finished speaking when Orla stepped aggressively forward, blocking the entrance.
"You're not welcome here," Orla hissed, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the doorframe. "How many times must we make that clear?"
Raphael appeared beside his cousin, arms crossed. "I believe we asked you to leave."
The cold morning air bit at Lyra's cheeks as she faced them, their united front a familiar barrier. Behind them, she caught a glimpse of the grand staircase leading to Eleanor's quarters.
"Mrs. Moreau should decide that for herself," Lyra said firmly, refusing to back down.
A car door slammed behind them. Jasper Covington emerged, his face twisted in disdain as he approached.
"Still causing trouble, I see," he sneered, coming to stand beside Orla. "Once trash, always trash."
Damian stepped forward, positioning himself at Lyra's side. "That's enough."
