Lyra stood in the hospital corridor, her back pressed against the wall as she tried to process everything that had happened. Percival had gone to face Uncle Moreau alone, insisting on shielding her from the patriarch's wrath. The gesture touched something deep inside her—a place that had long forgotten what protection felt like.
One of Percival's security guards approached her. "Mrs. Covington, would you like to return to your room to rest?"
She shook her head. "No, I need to—"
The elevator doors slid open, cutting her off. Colette Blackwood stormed out, her eyes wild with fury as she scanned the hallway. When her gaze landed on Lyra, her face contorted with rage.
"You!" Colette hissed, marching toward her. "What have you done now?"
Lyra stiffened. Percival's guards immediately moved to flank her, but she raised a hand to stop them. "It's fine. This is my mother."
"Mother?" Colette spat. "Don't you dare claim that relationship now, after what you've done to this family!"
