Lyra let herself into the manor and headed for the living room, where only the ticking clock dared disturb the silence.
"Miss, you're here." Dora appeared from the shadows behind her, and she jumped in surprise.
"Madam requests your presence," the maid announced.
Subconsciously, her gaze drifted upward to the first floor, to her grandmother's room. She swallowed slightly, then moved, ascending the grand staircase.
From afar, she noticed Nora stepping out of the room, her face pale.
Nora offered a small smile. "It's done," she said quietly. "…but she didn't say much," Nora murmured.
Nora seemed as if she might say more, but her voice caught. She tapped Lyra lightly on the shoulder before turning to leave.
Inside the room, Mr. Cray, the butler, stood at the edge of the bed, his posture respectful as he listened to Madam Agnes. The quiet hum of their voices stilled when Dora announced Lyra's presence.
Agnes lifted a frail hand, motioning for her granddaughter to enter. The butler bowed slightly and slipped out, leave the heavy air between them.
Agnes's face remained neutral, revealing nothing for Lyra to read.
"Do you have anything to say?" Agnes threw out her first question in a calm voice.
"Yes." Lyra responded.
"Is that so? But an apology isn't enough," Agnes said firmly; she could sense what her granddaughter would say.
"I know… but I have nothing else to say except I'm sorry."
"I said that is not enough!" Agnes's words cut through the room, icy and sharp, as she stood abruptly, staring at her granddaughter.
Lyra flinched. It was the first time her grandmother had ever raised her voice at her.
"Guests from every corner have gathered here. How am I supposed to face them? What am I supposed to say to them?" Agnes clenched her fists. She took a deep breath before seating herself carefully on the bed.
"I… I truly am sorry!" Lyra choked, struggling to hold back her tears and brushing them away with the back of her hand.
"Grandma, please… you shouldn't strain yourself!" she panicked, seeing Agnes clutch her chest.
"You really want me to die soon," Agnes said, half-joking. A faint smirk touched her lips, but Lyra didn't notice. She was too busy wiping her tears.
"Don't say that, Grandma," Lyra whispered, her voice trembling.
"How am I supposed to rest? My heart is shattered," Agnes said sadly, which only deepened Lyra's guilt.
She cried, clutching her grandmother's knees. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to make you sad."
In her heart, Lyra vowed she would do anything to bring her grandmother peace.
"Lyra." Agnes began softly, her hand brushing the girl's hair.
"The wedding must go on, no exceptions."
Lyra was taken aback.
"But I broke up with Lucas. There's no turning back," Lyra said firmly.
"That's good," Agnes said, a faint smile touching her lips. "You will marry the one your grandfather has chosen."
…
Rowan sat in his dimly lit office, his eyes fixed on the documents before him. Stacks of papers and files were strewn across the desk.
His brow was furrowed in concentration when the door swung open without warning.
"Did you forget how to knock?" he asked.
"Congratulations, Boss! May your marriage be filled with endless love and joy," Kane said with a grin.
"Are you drunk?" Rowan's voice was calm but edged with irritation.
Before Rowan could slap Kane, Damian burst into the room.
"Boss! Your father has requested your presence," Damian said, slightly out of breath. "He wants you to bring all the documents for the marriage registration."
Moments later, Rowan arrived the Pierce Estate and burst into his father's study.
"What is the meaning of this, Father?!" he demanded, fury tightening his jaw.
His father looked up from behind the mahogany desk, unruffled by the intrusion.
"Welcome home, son," he said, setting his pen aside.
"Are you trying to strengthen your alliances through me?" Rowan asked, his tone sharp with restrained anger.
Marriage was a word absent from his life's dictionary, and yet they dared to impose it upon him. They had tried this before, but it had been annulled. And now, the thought of it again made his blood boil.