Lyra found herself dialing the police with trembling fingers. The elderly woman who claimed to be her "grandmother-in-law" sat beside her on a park bench, clutching her hand with surprising strength.
"Covington residence," a crisp voice answered after Lyra asked to be connected to the Covington family.
"I found an elderly woman in Crescent Park who I believe is from your household," Lyra explained, keeping her voice steady. "She seems disoriented but keeps mentioning she's Mrs. Covington."
A sharp intake of breath came from the other end. "Old Mrs. Covington has been missing for hours. Is she hurt? Where exactly are you?"
Lyra provided their location, then hung up. The old woman smiled up at her, patting her hand.
"You're so kind, dear. Percival chose well."
Lyra bit her lip, unsure how to respond. "Mrs. Covington, I think there's been a misunderstanding—"
"Nonsense!" The elderly woman waved dismissively. "I may be old, but I'd never forget my grandson's wife. Such a pretty face."
Before Lyra could correct her again, her phone rang with an unknown number.
"Hello?"
"This is Percival Covington." His voice was colder than she remembered. "I understand you've found my grandmother."
Lyra's heart skipped. "Yes, she's safe. She wandered into the road, but she's unhurt."
"Stay where you are. I'm sending someone immediately."
"Actually, I've already called the police. They should arrive soon to escort her safely home."
A pause. "And you are?"
Lyra hesitated. After their disastrous first meeting, revealing her identity seemed unwise. "Just a concerned citizen."
"Your voice sounds familiar."
"I doubt it," she replied quickly. "Will someone be meeting her at the police station?"
"I'll handle it personally," he said. "Thank you for your assistance, Miss...?"
"The police are arriving now," Lyra lied, avoiding his question. "Goodbye, Mr. Covington."
She hung up before he could press further and immediately called the police to ensure they would indeed come for Mrs. Covington. After explaining the situation, she waited until a patrol car appeared before slipping away, ignoring the old woman's protests.
"I'll see you again soon, dear!" Mrs. Covington called after her.
Lyra didn't look back. She had enough complications in her life without adding Percival Covington's confused grandmother to the mix.
What she didn't see was Mrs. Covington secretly saving her phone number while the police officer was distracted, a cunning smile playing on her wrinkled lips.
---
The following morning, Lyra arrived at Oceanion University with a sense of purpose. She'd spent half the night researching Percival Covington and the mysterious marriage certificate that bound them together. Today, she would speak with her professor about her postgraduate recommendation, then consult a lawyer about divorce proceedings.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Dorian: "IPO paperwork needs your marital status clarified ASAP."
Lyra sighed. Everything was happening too fast.
As she approached Professor Avery's office, voices drifted through the partially open door.
"—utterly disappointed in her academic performance," a familiar voice said.
Lyra froze. That was Colette's voice.
"I see," Professor Avery replied. "But her grades have been exemplary—"
"Surface achievements," another voice cut in. Orla. "We've been covering for her for years."
Lyra pushed the door open. Three heads turned toward her—Professor Avery looking uncomfortable behind his desk, Orla smirking from a leather chair, and Colette standing with arms crossed.
"What's going on?" Lyra asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
Professor Avery cleared his throat. "Ah, Lyra. Please come in. We were just discussing your recommendation."
"My recommendation?" She stepped forward, clutching her bag tighter.
Colette's smile was razor-sharp. "Yes, dear. I've asked Professor Avery to withdraw it."
The words hit like a physical blow. "You what?"
"As your legal guardian until you turn twenty-five, I have every right to make decisions about your education," Colette said smoothly.
Professor Avery looked genuinely regretful. "I'm sorry, Lyra. Your mother has made a compelling case that you're not ready for postgraduate work."
"That's absurd! I've maintained perfect grades—"
"Through cheating," Orla interjected, examining her manicured nails. "We have proof."
"What proof?" Lyra demanded. "I've never cheated in my life!"
Colette placed a hand on Professor Avery's desk. "We don't wish to make this public, Professor. It would only embarrass everyone involved. But as her mother, I must insist the recommendation be withdrawn."
Professor Avery nodded slowly. "I understand. Lyra, I'm afraid I must comply with your family's wishes."
"Professor, please—" Lyra started, desperation creeping into her voice.
"It's already done," Colette cut her off. "Now, Orla has something for you."
Orla reached into her designer handbag and pulled out an envelope. "Here's a plane ticket to Argentina. One way." Her smile was pure venom. "You've always wanted to travel, haven't you?"
Lyra stared at the ticket. "Argentina? Why would I go to Argentina?"
"Because you've offended someone very powerful," Orla replied, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. "Percival Covington doesn't appreciate gold-diggers trying to claim connections to his family."
Lyra's blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"
"His grandmother told everyone about the 'nice girl' who helped her last night," Orla continued. "Apparently, she's convinced you're her grandson's wife. Ridiculous, isn't it?"
Colette stepped closer. "You've always been trouble, but this time you've gone too far. The Covingtons aren't people you want as enemies."
Lyra's mind raced. How had they found out so quickly?
"I did nothing wrong," she insisted. "I found a confused elderly woman and called for help."
"And yet she somehow believes you're married to her grandson," Orla scoffed. "What did you tell her?"
"Nothing! She was confused!"
Colette slammed her hand on the desk. "Enough lies! You're leaving the country before you cause more damage. I've already initiated your withdrawal from the university."
"You can't do that!" Lyra turned to Professor Avery. "Professor, she can't just withdraw me without my consent!"
The professor looked pained. "Actually, as your guardian with financial responsibility for your education, she can."
"I pay my own tuition," Lyra countered desperately.
Colette laughed, a cold, brittle sound. "With what money? Your little part-time jobs? Don't be ridiculous. Your education comes from Moreau family funds."
It wasn't true—Lyra had been funding herself for years through her various small businesses—but she couldn't reveal that without exposing her secret companies.
"I don't understand why you're doing this," Lyra said, her voice quieter now.
"Because you're an embarrassment," Colette hissed. "You always have been. You lack the intelligence and capability to succeed in advanced studies. You'd only humiliate us."
The words stung, even though Lyra knew they were lies. She'd deliberately downplayed her intelligence for years to avoid exactly this type of confrontation, always letting Orla appear to be the more brilliant one.
"Take the ticket," Orla said, pushing the envelope toward her. "It's your only option now."
Lyra stood her ground. "No."
Orla's smile faltered. "What?"
"I said no. I'm not leaving."
Colette's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You ungrateful little—"
"My withdrawal will require my signature," Lyra interrupted. "And I won't sign anything."
Professor Avery nodded reluctantly. "She's right about that part."
Colette recovered quickly. "Fine. Stay. But without a recommendation, your academic career is over. And good luck finding another professor willing to support you once word gets around."
"Why does my future threaten you so much?" Lyra asked, finally voicing the question that had plagued her for years.
Orla stood, smoothing her designer dress. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not a threat—you're an inconvenience." She smiled brightly at Professor Avery. "Unlike some people, I don't need to rely on pity recommendations. I've received special admission for postgraduate study directly from Dr. Payne himself."
Lyra stiffened. "What did you say?"
"You heard me," Orla preened. "Dr. Payne—the one who was awarded a doctorate for his successful research on hydrogen energy oil cleaner fuel—personally selected me to join his research team. He recognized my talent."
Lyra stared at her stepsister in complete shock. "Who did you say?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.