Lyra felt as if the world had stopped spinning. Mrs. Moreau's words hung in the air like suspended time, impossible to process yet impossible to ignore.
"What did you just say?" Colette scrambled to her feet, her theatrical sobs forgotten in an instant.
Mrs. Moreau stepped forward, her usually gentle face hardened with determination. "You heard me. Lyra is my biological daughter."
Cameras flashed frantically as reporters struggled to capture this shocking development. Lyra couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The words made no sense yet resonated with a strange, buried truth inside her.
"That's absurd!" Orla leapt from her wheelchair, forgetting her performance entirely. "Mother, she's obviously confused. Her medication—"
"I am not confused." Mrs. Moreau's voice cut through Orla's protests like a knife. "I've suspected for years. The blood tests confirmed it last week."
Colette's face contorted with rage. "You're lying! She's mine! My disgraceful, ungrateful child!"
