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.”
