Lyra stood rigid as the Moreau mansion's imposing gates towered before her. Five years since she'd last approached this place voluntarily. Five years since she'd walked away, vowing never to crawl back. Yet here she was, the photograph of Lady South clutched tightly in her hand, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Rebecca whispered beside her.
Lyra nodded. The Gallaghers' presence behind her felt like armor—Damian's steady support, Rebecca's fierce loyalty, and the elder Gallaghers' dignified backing.
"I've spent my entire life running from this place," Lyra said quietly. "It's time I walked in with my head held high."
She pressed the intercom button. The familiar crackle made her flinch involuntarily.
"Moreau residence." The voice was unfamiliar—a new staff member.
"This is Lyra Moreau. I need to speak with Mrs. Eleanor Moreau immediately."
A pause. "One moment, please."
