The telephone's ring was like a whip that never ceased. Once, twice, thrice, the shrill sound filled the Veylen family's drawing room, pressing down on the already suffocating air.
Lord Veylen sat on the ancestral armchair, his face ashen. Fingers that once signed billion-dollar contracts now trembled against his temple. Each ring was a reminder that the honor of the noble Veylen family was nothing more than a name on paper.
"Stop…" he whispered faintly, both hands covering his ears, as if prayer could banish the sound. "Stop, please…"
But the telephone knew no mercy. Lady Serene, his second wife, stepped lightly toward him. Her gown rustled softly, a faint smile curling at the edge of her lips. She sat beside Lord Veylen, her touch feigned tender as her eyes shimmered with staged tears.
"Honey…" she murmured with false sorrow, "I know how heavy this is for you. To see the family name you have long taken pride in crumble so easily." Her voice broke as if holding back grief. Yet behind her gaze flickered a glint of satisfaction. She was pleased to see the man sink this low.
Selene, Serene's daughter, came closer. Her voice, polished with sympathy, sounded gentle. "Dad, I can't bear to see you like this. The phone won't stop. They will keep demanding. If we do nothing, the Veylen family will truly be destroyed."
Lord Veylen lowered his head, eyes bloodshot, his heart torn by guilt. "I… I don't know what to do. Every door is closed. No one will trust the Veylens anymore."
Selene grasped his hand tightly, pretending to let tears fall. "There is one way, Dad."
Lord Veylen lifted his head slowly, looking at her. "What way?"
Selene restrained the victorious smile tugging at her lips, letting them tremble as though the words were too heavy to speak. "Damien Kael Dreven."
The room froze instantly. The name dropped like a great stone into the sea.
Lord Veylen stiffened. "No, you don't know what you're saying, Selene. Damien, he is an Alpha of ancient blood. No one can simply approach him. He is not someone we can lean on."
Lady Serene gently stroked her husband's arm, her voice hoarse yet laced with pretense. "But we have no other choice. Damien is the only one strong enough to silence the investors. He could pay off your debts, even restore this family's name."
Lord Veylen shook his head, despair etched across his face. "But what could we possibly offer him? He has no need of us."
Selene lowered her gaze, feigning hesitation, before lifting her tearful eyes to her stepfather. "Dad, I heard a rumor. Damien favors Betas. Only Betas. Unfortunately…" She cast her mother a theatrical glance.
"I'm not a Beta. Neither is Mother."
Lady Serene let out a long sigh, her voice fragile, as though broken. "But… Lyra…"
Silence. The name slipped into the air like a dagger plunging into a heart.
Flashback
The memory of a few days ago surged into Lord Veylen's mind.
Lyra stood at the threshold of the grand house, her face pale, eyes swollen from lack of sleep. Her fingers clutched a limp, empty envelope, the last remnant of her desperate attempt to seek help.
"Dady, please... Mommy needs her medicine. The hospital has been demanding payment. I have no money left to cover it."
Lord Veylen's gaze bore down on her, cold and unyielding. Before he could speak, Lady Serene's voice slid in gentle, yet venomous. "Honey, how many times have we already given her money? Each time, her Mom is still ill. Perhaps, the money isn't truly being spent on treatment."
Selene chimed in, feigning sorrow. "Dad, I once saw Lyra at the market buying a shabby dress. What if all the money you give her is being squandered?"
Lyra's face drained of color. "That's a lie! I even sold my own dresses to pay for the medicine! I never …"
Slap!
The strike landed so harshly that Lyra staggered, collapsing onto the cold floor. Her left cheek burned red, heat searing through the tears that broke loose at once.
"You ungrateful child!" Lord Veylen roared, his eyes blazing with fury.
"How dare you accuse my wife and sister of lying? How dare you come here only to beg! You are nothing but a disgrace to this family's name!"
Lyra sobbed, trying to crawl closer. "Dad, I am not lying. For Mom sake, please…"
But the only answer she received was the heavy door slammed shut, severing all her hopes. She was left outside, her body trembling in the cold night, her cheek stinging, her heart shattered into pieces.
Flashback ends.
Lord Veylen panted, his head bowed low. His trembling hands covered his face, as if he could erase the vision. But Serene's voice pierced through the cracks of his weakness.
"Honey, think of it. Lyra is a Beta. Damien is only drawn to Betas. If Lyra would surrender herself, Damien will help us."
Selene lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as though holding back tears. "I know this is hard, Dad. But isn't it better that she makes the sacrifice, rather than all of us falling into ruin?"
Behind their sorrowful masks lurked a dark satisfaction. Serene and Selene seemed to revel in an unseen triumph, for soon Lyra would be ensnared by the fate they had woven.
Lord Veylen exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping, crushed beneath despair. The phone's ring shrieked again, louder, sharper, piercing deeper.
"Lyra…" Veylen whispered, his voice trembling, as if each word had to be forced from his parched throat. "This time, you must help your father. Not only for your Mom, but for me as well." His fingers clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, straining beneath the weight of both resolve and ambition that suffocated his chest.
From the corner of the room, Serene and Selene exchanged a glance, faint smiles curving their lips. Their hearts brimmed with satisfaction, the sinister scheme they had crafted from the start was finally unfolding. Veylen, the once stubborn man had now, without realizing, become a willing accomplice in trapping his own daughter within their dirty game. For Serene and Selene, Lyra was nothing more than a pawn, a tool to breathe life back into the family business. That way, they could continue basking in privilege, never again tasting the bitterness of hardship that once shadowed their past.
The clock's hands kept turning, its chime stabbing deeper into Veylen's patience. Nearly an hour had passed since he had called Lyra. His message had been short, yet brimming with pressure, "If you need extra money, come to the house. Wear a gown. Make yourself as beautiful as possible."
Now he sat in his grand chair, his face taut, jaw clenched. "Will she not come?" he muttered irritably, his eyes fixed on the door.
Selene quickly stepped forward, attempting to soothe her stepfather. "Patience, Dad. She will come. Lyra knows what awaits her if she refuses." Her voice was soft, but hidden within was a spark of delight. She could not allow this golden opportunity to collapse merely because Veylen lost control of his temper.
The atmosphere grew tense, the air thick with secrets ready to shatter at any moment. At last, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor. A maid appeared, her face anxious, bowing deeply.
"Miss Lyra has arrived."
Instantly, the room quivered with tension. Serene and Selene almost rose in unison, their faces alight with triumph. Veylen, his sharp gaze unreadable, slowly stood.
The drawing room door began to open, and Lyra finally appeared standing at the threshold in a simple gown and modest makeup, yet looking beautiful.