The meeting ended with the soft clicks of tablets closing and the muted shuffle of designer shoes on marble. No formal dismissals. No wrap-up speeches.
Just the quiet, precise exodus of power returning to their individual silos.
Lyra gathered her notes with slow, intentional movements. Don't rush. Don't appear shaken. She wasn't. Not exactly. But her fingers twitched slightly as they touched the stylus, just once, before stilling again.
She sensed someone approaching before she saw her.
Arielle Mercer didn't hover. She simply arrived. Silent. Calculated.
"Not bad," Arielle said, her voice low. "You lasted a full meeting without apologizing or overexplaining. That alone puts you ahead of most."
Lyra looked up. The compliment wasn't warm—but it was real.
"I assume that's rare around here."
"Rare everywhere," Arielle replied. "But especially rare with him watching."
Lyra tilted her head slightly. "I take it you mean Mr. Thornevale."
Arielle's expression didn't change. "Call him Edgar and see how long you last."
A beat passed.
Then a hint of a smile, razor-thin. "You handled yourself well."
Lyra offered a polite nod. "I wasn't aware I was being tested."
"Good." Arielle leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to the edge of a whisper. "Don't assume you know when it ends."
Then she turned and walked away, heels barely making a sound.
Lyra stood alone for a moment in the echo of the statement.
Don't assume you know when it ends.
Her phone buzzed the moment she stepped into her new office.
The number was unlisted, but she knew it by heart.
Father.
Her finger hovered over the green button.
She exhaled—just once—and tapped accept.
"Lyra."
His voice was clipped and clear, like always. The tone of someone who didn't ask where you were. Only what you were doing.
"Father."
"I assume the meeting went well. I received a call six minutes ago informing me that Edgar personally questioned your stance on the Vhaleth contract."
Of course he had.
"You get your intel fast."
"I pay well. So," Silas D'Argent continued, "Did you answer correctly?"
She walked slowly toward the window as she spoke, eyes on the skyline. "I answered truthfully."
Silence on the line. Not even the sound of breathing.
Then—
"That wasn't the question."
She didn't answer.
He took that as permission to continue.
"I don't need you to provoke him, Lyra. I need you to be trusted. This placement is not an indulgence—it's a negotiation. We are preparing for a strategic merger. You are our foothold."
Her jaw clenched. "I wasn't aware I was property."
"You're not. You're a D'Argent."
"That's not a rebuttal."
A pause.
Then, his voice cooled further. "Edgar is unstable. Brilliant, yes, but emotionally erratic. Do not mistake his fixation for interest. Do not play into it."
Her fingers curled slightly at her side.
"Are you finished?"
"For now," he said. "But Lyra—"
"I know. I'm being watched."
Click.
The call ended.
She stood at the glass, the city below her sprawling like an open map.
And for the first time since she arrived, she felt trapped.