Lyra landed hard on her back. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment from every angle.
Her eyes instinctively found Caspian, but his face was a cold, impassive mask. In that instant, she knew exactly what he wanted from her, and the realization was a sharp pain in her heart. He wanted her to speak for him, to tell the press it was all a misunderstanding, that he was only here out of kindness for a sick friend.
Clutching her belly, Lyra lowered her head and let a faint smile touch her lips. The sky above was clear, but none of its light reached her.
She pushed herself up slowly. Then, without a backward glance, she said calmly, “I feel sorry for Miss Finch. But that’s all.”
Someone nearby asked, “So, are you friends with her?”
Lyra gave a short laugh. “Friends? No. I wouldn’t call a woman clinging to my husband a friend.”
She turned and waved to Zara, who had just pulled up.
“Lyra!” Caspian called after her, his face flushed with rage.
She didn’t turn around. She held her head high and kept walking.
Zara jumped out of the car and rushed to her friend’s side, scoffing as they left, “You’d think they were the married couple confronting the home-wrecker. Absolutely ridiculous.”
Isolde started to speak. “You…”
But Zara cut her off. “What? Tell me I’m wrong. If you plan on using the press to intimidate me, go ahead. I have nothing to hide.”
Isolde’s face went even paler, as if she might faint. The reporters descended into a frenzy.
Zara ushered Lyra into the car without a second glance. “Don’t worry,” she said. “She’s faking it. I’ve seen enough cases to know.”
Lyra gave her a small smile. “I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about you. What if this affects your job?”
At a red light, Zara grinned. “Don’t forget my dad’s the hospital director.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow. “The same dad you swore you’d never speak to again?”
Zara shrugged. “You never know when a connection might come in handy. Honestly, sometimes I wish all the powerful men in the world were my dads.”
They both laughed, and the tension in Lyra’s shoulders began to ease.
“I’ve got the afternoon free,” Zara said. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”
Playing along, Lyra turned with a sly grin. “Great. I need your help.”
“With what?”
“Help me move.” She grabbed Zara’s wrist. “You can’t back out now.”
Zara groaned but agreed. Before long, they arrived at the house Lyra had shared with Caspian, accompanied by a team of movers. The house had been put together in a rush after their wedding, everything feeling temporary. But over the past year, Lyra had tried to fill it with warmth, to make it a home.
While Zara directed the movers, Lyra walked through the rooms, her hands lightly touching objects. On a shelf, she saw a bottle of Chanel No. 5—the first gift Caspian had ever given her, brought back from a business trip. He had come straight from the airport and pulled her into his arms, his kisses urgent, like any young couple in love.
She opened the bottle and sprayed it once, the familiar scent filling the air. She remembered how he had kissed her neck after she’d put it on.
“Should I pack this?” Zara asked, noticing the perfume.
Lyra shook her head. “Leave it.”
She slipped off the simple wedding band Caspian had chosen and placed it on the table. But as the movers continued their work, she paused, then quietly opened a drawer and placed both the perfume and the ring inside.
Soon, the house was empty of any trace of her. Only that bottle and that ring remained.
The work was tiring, but the decision had been swift. Her feelings were the same. As the car pulled away, the mansion faded in the rearview mirror. Sometimes, to move forward, you had to leave a part of yourself behind.
Lyra had things to do. The collapse of the Sanford family, the questions surrounding her father’s death—she was going to find the truth. Her life had always been shaped by the needs of others. Now, it was time to live for herself.
She would start with the music show. It would bring in money and, more importantly, might reconnect her with people from her father’s past. She pulled out her phone and sent a message. “I’m joining the music program.”
…
Isolde was still crying. Caspian sat beside her, offering hollow words of comfort, but his mind was replaying the image of Lyra walking away from him. She had known exactly what he wanted her to say and had deliberately chosen not to. He had sent her a barrage of messages, none of which she had answered.
Her behavior was strange, the change too abrupt. She was provoking him. She had done it when they filed for divorce and again at the hospital. He remembered the look in her eyes the night before, when she’d asked if he was sure. She had been sad, but also unnervingly calm.
An unexpected fear pricked at him.
“Caspian, don’t be angry at Lyra,” Isolde said through her tears. “I know she’s upset. She must have come to confront us after seeing the news online. I understand.” She broke down sobbing. “After all… I’m the one taking something from her. Six months of your marriage. If she lashes out, I deserve it…”
As she spoke, she began to cough violently, spitting blood into her hand.
“Isolde!” Caspian jumped up, reaching for his phone to call an ambulance. He dismissed Lyra’s behavior as a temporary mood swing. She wouldn’t dare leave him.
Isolde stopped him with a weak hand, smiling faintly. “It’s the cancer. Late-stage. This happens. Don’t worry.”
Her caregiver helped her lie down. As soon as Caspian left the room to confront Lyra, Isolde calmly wiped her mouth and removed a small blood packet from her cheek.
She laughed. “What do you think he’ll say to Lyra now?” she asked the caregiver. “I’m honestly looking forward to it.”
She began scrolling excitedly through the news reports. The entire internet seemed to have turned against Lyra.
“Isolde didn’t even want life-saving treatment, just pain meds. Lyra made a scene for nothing.”
“Isolde is dying, and Lyra is still picking fights?”
“Mr. Thorne and Isolde look perfect together.”
“Lyra’s fall was so embarrassing. I cringed.”
“Lyra, just step aside!”
“Lyra, divorce Caspian!”
“Yeah, divorce him!”
“Divorce!”
Isolde chuckled as she read the comments. She sent a message to a contact with a few instructions. “Today’s move was perfect. Keep the pressure up. Make sure Lyra stays down. Oh, and find out why she was at the hospital today.”
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