The call came late in the afternoon. Zara answered, her voice clipped and professional, before passing the phone to Lyra.
“It’s Marcus Thorne,” she whispered. “From `Starlight Serenade`.”
Lyra’s hand trembled as she took the phone. His voice was sympathetic, but the words were steel.
“Lyra, I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he began, dispensing with pleasantries. “But the controversy is too big to ignore. The network, the sponsors… we’re under immense pressure.”
He laid out the ultimatum. It was cold and simple.
“You have two options,” he said. “You can withdraw from the competition, effective immediately. We’ll release a statement citing personal reasons. Or, you can use your performance slot on the next live show to address the situation.”
Lyra’s throat went dry. “Address it how?”
“Frankly, we don’t care what you say. But you have to say something. Silence is not an option anymore.”
He gave her until morning to decide. The call ended, leaving a dead, echoing silence in the room.
Zara began pacing, her mind racing through the logical paths. “We can issue a legal denial through a lawyer. It’s the standard move.”
“Too slow,” Lyra whispered. “The lie will be truth by then.”
“A press release? A written statement?”
“Too weak. It will get lost in the noise.”
“Then you withdraw,” Zara said firmly, her eyes pleading. “You walk away. Protect your health. Protect the baby. Nothing else matters.”
Lyra looked around the apartment, at the drawn blinds, at the flashes of paparazzi cameras filtering through the cracks. Hiding. It was the sensible choice. The safe choice.
But her own words from that last interview echoed in her mind. I left to protect my own well-being.
She realized with chilling clarity that her well-being was no longer just her own. It was tied to the tiny, fragile life inside her. A life that Isolde was now trying to define with a monstrous lie before it had even begun.
Hiding would mean letting Isolde win. It would mean this scandal, this accusation, would become the first chapter of her child’s story.
No. She would not allow that.
Her fear began to curdle, hardening into a defiant resolve. She had been a victim for too long. Reacting. Enduring. Surviving.
It was time to fight.
She looked at Zara, her gaze clear and steady for the first time in days. A terrifying decision had taken root in her heart.
“I’m not withdrawing,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.
“Lyra…”
“And I’m not issuing a statement.”
She stood up, the blanket falling away. She felt a strange, cold calm settle over her. They had given her an ultimatum. They had given her a stage. They had given her a national audience.
She would use it. She would turn their weapon back on them.
A fierce, protective fire ignited in her chest. It was the most terrifying choice she had ever made. It was the only choice she had left.
“She wants to talk about my child,” Lyra said, her voice ringing with a newfound strength that startled even herself. “Fine.”
“Let’s talk about my child.”
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