Deborah went quiet for a few seconds before saying, "Alright. Tomorrow, your dad and I will discuss the marriage with the Windsors."

Lyra didn't sleep all night.

The next morning, Joel still hadn't come back. Just one message:

[Lyra, there's an issue at the company. I'm going on a business trip for three days.]

She didn't bother replying. Instead, she booked a flight to Emmerica for a week later.

Packing up felt like ripping out roots. Years of living with Joel had piled up way too much stuff. Since the Lebeaus were strapped for cash, she listed anything valuable online.

By evening, a notification popped up—a message from an unfamiliar account:

[Hi, Lyra.]

She tapped it open. The profile pic was a positive pregnancy test, and the username read 'ReeRee Bliss.'

Of course. Renee made a new, private account just to mess with her. Not brave enough to go public yet.

A minute later, a social media post from Renee appeared—a photo of Joel at a prenatal checkup, captioned:

[Hehe, gentle, caring, and filthy rich—the perfect dad 😘]

Lyra saw through the petty scheme instantly. She liked the post and fired off a comment:

[Got my bone marrow, got better, and now you're here to provoke me? Tell me, Renee Slutz—how does stolen life taste?]

The next day, Lyra met up with her friends to say goodbye and sold off some luxury stuff to willing buyers.

On the way home, her phone buzzed—another post from Renee. More photos, this time of Joel helping her pick out maternity clothes. Pink and white dresses, all fancy and cute.

Curious, Lyra scrolled back to the last post and spotted Renee's smug reply to her comment:

[It's not like I begged you to donate your bone marrow. Joel was just worried about me and forced me to accept it.]

Lyra snorted and shot back a single question mark.

By the third day, she'd sold all the gifts she'd given Joel over the years—shirts, shoes, watches. Every trace of him, gone.

Then, another post from Renee popped up. This time it was about some luxury postpartum care center Joel had booked for her. The caption read:

[Can't help it. People like me are just born lucky.]

That afternoon, Joel finally showed up. He froze when he saw the half-empty bedroom, frowning at the pink suitcase by the door.

"Why does the place look so empty? Those shirts you gave me are gone too. And why'd you suddenly buy a suitcase?"

Lyra dropped her gaze, keeping it casual. "Those shirts were outdated, so I tossed them. Was planning a trip but changed my mind."

Thinking she was just sulking because he'd been gone for three days, Joel pulled out a purchase contract and handed it over. "I've been busy with work, so I ordered you a new supercar. We'll go pick it up later."

Lyra glanced at the contract. An exclusive Lamborghini—black and pink, just how she liked it. Even the seats were customized with her favorite animated character.

Cars were her thing, way more than designer bags, and this model had definitely caught her eye recently. Six years together, and Joel still knew her tastes to a T.

If she hadn't overheard his little chat with Evelyn at the hospital, she might've actually felt touched.

"Thanks."

She set the contract aside.

Joel frowned and leaned in, gently pinching her cheek. "Still mad? There's a party tonight. I'll take you out to unwind."

Lyra was about to say no, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her downstairs.

They hadn't been on the road long when Joel's phone rang. The caller ID flashed 'Cutie ReeRee.'

Lyra couldn't catch much—just a shaky, sobbing voice saying, "Joel... sob... hurry, save me..."

Joel's jaw clenched. He tapped the screen, pulling up Renee's real-time location from some app, then whipped the car around.

"Forget the party. Renee's been kidnapped. I have to get to her."

He drove like a maniac, blasting through over a dozen red lights.

Twenty minutes later, he spotted a black sedan up ahead and slammed the gas.

Bang!

The back of the sedan crumpled instantly.

At the same moment, another car slammed into the Bentley's passenger side, sending it skidding. Lyra couldn't move fast enough—her head smacked against the window, and blood started streaming down her face.

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through her skull like needles digging straight into her brain. She couldn't even make a sound.

Joel didn't spare her a glance—his eyes stayed glued to Renee in the black sedan, completely oblivious to Lyra's injury.

After three more collisions, the black car finally screeched to a stop. The attackers bailed, jumping into the accomplice's vehicle and speeding off.

Joel shoved his door open and rushed to the back seat, scooping Renee into his arms. For the first time, pure panic flashed in his eyes.

"You okay? Did they hurt you?"

Renee curled into his arms, her face tilted up to show a red slap mark, eyes shimmering with tears.

"It was my dad's business rivals... They just slapped me once. It's nothing serious."

Seeing her like that made Joel's heart clench. He growled in frustration.

"Nothing serious? Even when you were abroad, I spoiled you and kept you safe from stuff like this. What if something happened to the baby?"

Renee sobbed harder. "It's your fault for taking so long... I was so scared..."

"Don't be afraid. It's my fault. I'll get you checked out right now."

He placed her carefully in the back seat, floored it to the hospital in five minutes flat, and carried her straight into the ER.

Not once did he notice Lyra still sitting in the passenger seat—eyes red and swollen, blood soaking through her hair and streaking down her pale face.

Lyra watched them vanish into the hospital. She tipped her head back, fighting tears, and forced herself to move. Hands shaking, she pushed open the car door and headed for the entrance.

By evening, rain was coming down in torrents, soaking straight through her wound. She didn't bother covering it up.

A nurse at the triage desk went pale, rushing over to help and guiding her to get checked out.

An hour later, Lyra was done with the exams—exhausted and barely hanging on. She grabbed her phone, spotting over a dozen missed calls—all from Joel. Without hesitating, she powered it off.

Since the IV drip would take hours, she asked the nurse to set up a room for the night.

In the quiet, memories swarmed her mind.

After Joel's paralysis, she used to go to social events for him. One time at a business dinner, two CEOs got into it, and one flipped the table—plates shattered everywhere, and a shard cut her wrist.

Joel showed up, livid, and immediately ordered his assistant to cut ties with both companies. Then he accompanied her to the hospital himself to get the wound cleaned up.

She'd thought he was overreacting, but he'd just smiled and said, "Lyra, you're the most important woman in my life. I don't want any scars on you—except maybe from having our kids. Smooth skin looks best with beautiful clothes and jewelry."

And now, with her face covered in blood, he'd brushed her off to take care of someone else.

He once swore she'd never have to bear a scar, but he made her risk her life to donate bone marrow for another woman. Even marriage and kids—he'd planned all that with someone else behind her back.

Before sleep claimed her, she saw a new post from ReeRee Bliss. It was a video of Joel, half-kneeling and gently washing Renee's feet to get her to sleep. Lyra played it on loop, heart aching more each time. Sleep never came.

***

The next morning, Lyra dragged herself home. As soon as she stepped inside, Colin, the butler, appeared, looking uneasy.

"Ms. Lebeau, Mr. Fenwick's waiting by the pool. He's... not in a good mood."

She headed to the pool and spotted Joel comforting Renee, who was sniffling and playing the victim with fake tears streaming down her face.

The second Joel saw Lyra, his anger snapped. Cold fury radiated off him.

"Did you deliberately leak Renee's whereabouts to her dad's enemies?"

Lyra froze, eyes shifting to Renee, who lounged on the couch with a smug, triumphant smirk. It clicked instantly—another setup. She rubbed her temples, exhausted.

"I don't even know who her dad's enemies are," she shot back. "How would I leak anything?"

Joel didn't budge. He yanked out a stack of photos and slammed them onto the table.

"Then explain these—pictures of you meeting with them. What's going on?"

Lyra glanced at the photos, her expression going ice-cold. They were from a few days ago when she'd been selling her secondhand luxury stuff at a coffee shop. No wonder the buyer didn't haggle—he'd insisted on meeting at that exact spot.

When she didn't speak, Joel took it as guilt. His face got even darker.

"Haven't I made it clear enough?" he snapped. "No matter what rumors are out there about me and Renee, we're innocent—there's nothing between us. I've always treated her like a sister. She's genuinely kind.

"And you—six years. We've been together for six years. You know how I've treated you all this time. Didn't I just propose a few days ago? Yet you still insist on hurting her like this. Can you even justify it?"

His words hit like a slap, but Lyra just stood there, holding it together while her heart cracked wide open.

Six years. That's what he kept throwing at her—like it meant something. Funny how he forgot the first year was him chasing her just to piss someone off for Renee's sake. And the next five? Her taking care of the paralyzed, miserable man.

She'd watched him fall apart—angry, broken, crying his eyes out night after night—all because he almost killed himself racing to boost Renee's ego. Real convenient how he forgot that part.

She'd been there every single day, secretly learning rehab techniques, massaging his legs, and even meeting with top psychologists just to figure out how to keep him from spiraling. However, he acted like none of it ever happened.

Honestly, it was pathetic.

Lyra almost wanted to laugh and straight-up ask—if Renee was just his "sister," then why the hell was he making test tube babies with her?

She took a slow breath. "Yeah, I finally get it now—how you've treated me and her these past six years."

Joel's jaw clenched. "What are you trying to say now?"

She didn't even bother arguing. Just pointed at the bandage wrapped around her head, giving him a bitter smile.

"She got kidnapped yesterday, and I ended up with a head injury. Five stitches. You really think I'm dumb enough to hurt myself just to get back at her?"

Even with the bandage right in his face, Joel didn't budge—still locked on protecting Renee. Typical.

Seeing his cold, tense expression, something inside Lyra just... let go. Three more days, and she'd be out of here for good.

"Fine," she said quietly. "Since you've already decided I'm guilty, just tell me how you wanna deal with it."

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but I've known Renee for sixteen years and seven months—she's never lied to anyone."

Joel paused, frowning hard as if deciding to end the matter.

"You made Renee cry. Fix it."

Right then, Renee—still fake sobbing—chucked the ring into the pool, gasping dramatically.

"Joel! The ring you gave me... it accidentally fell into the pool!"

She shot Lyra a smug little smile.

"Fine—no apology needed. Just fish it out, and I'll forgive you for everything."

The pool water was freezing—it was early winter, and Lyra's head was still messed up. She glanced at Joel. He just sat there, tapping his fingers, not even looking her way.

It felt like something sharp stabbed right through her heart, splintering into a million tiny aches.

She remembered that night—six months after Joel was diagnosed. Dominic showed up at the hospital, heard Joel might never recover, and started eyeing other successors.

That night, Joel vanished. Lyra found him wheeling himself toward the raging sea, icy water climbing up his chest.

Panicked, she ran to stop him, but he shoved her back.

"Quit acting like you care. You're just my girlfriend, not my wife. If you're so set on controlling my life, the waves are rough tonight—swim a lap around the bay, and I'll listen to you from now on."

Lyra froze, stunned. She wanted to scream that she wasn't pretending—that she wanted to be his wife. So, without thinking, she hurled herself into the sea, even though she couldn't swim.

The waves hit hard, yanking her under. Everything went black.

When she woke up, Joel was right there—face pale, jaw clenched, eyes locked on hers.

"Why didn't you tell me you can't swim? Are you out of your mind? Jumping into the ocean when you don't even know how?"

She looked up at him, voice raspy. "Even if your legs never recover, I still want to marry you. I... I love you more than you think."

After that, he never took her to the beach again. Even the pool at home stayed empty, water drained. It wasn't until she joked about how weird it looked that he finally let the servants refill it—grudgingly—every day.

Thinking about it now, Lyra let out a bitter smile.

"You want me to get the ring? Fine."

She didn't bother taking off her coat—just turned and jumped in. The icy water hit like a shock, soaking through her clothes, making her shiver so hard her teeth hurt. She sank slowly, fear clawing at her chest, but she bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Then the water turned red—dark, blooming like a cruel flower.

Colin's voice shot through the air. "Oh my God, Ms. Lebeau is bleeding from her head!"

Joel's jacket hit the ground as he dove in, grabbing Lyra and hauling her out.

"Enough! Why are you so stubborn? You could've just walked away!"

Lyra tilted her head back, eyes locked on the diamond ring still glittering at the bottom.

"You told me to make her happy. Aren't you satisfied now? Your precious Renee must be thrilled."

Joel frowned, jaw tight. "I've told you a million times—I only see her as a sister.

"Her family's status in Lindale isn't low either. What if people find out what you've done? You know how hard it is to keep public opinion under control these days.

"I just wanted you to calm her down—for your own good."

His tone was soft, like he was doing her a favor.

Lyra just laughed—bitter, hollow.

Public opinion, huh?

Like when the almighty Fenwick heir wrecked himself in a car race for Renee—didn't they cover that up just fine?

Or when Renee bullied half the school, hiding behind Joel's influence—didn't the Slutz family's reputation stay spotless thanks to him?

Even their IVF attempts got buried, him guarding that secret like his life depended on it.

But now? Now it was too hard to handle—just because it involved her?

She'd never come close to Renee's place in his heart.

Without another word, Lyra yanked off her soaked coat and headed for the living room. She barely made it a few steps before dizziness hit, and she crumpled to the floor.

Joel's face changed in a flash—he moved to pick her up—

But Renee dropped down beside her, sobbing.

"Joel... My stomach hurts. Can you carry me upstairs to rest?"

He froze, hand retracting from Lyra, then scooped Renee up without a second thought.

Lyra lay on the cold floor, her head smacking hard as she fell. Joel didn't even look back.

He glanced at Colin and ordered, "Take Lyra to the hospital."