Chapter 2

Lyra’s POV

By the tenth time Matteo glanced at me through the rearview mirror, he finally spoke. “Mother has been preparing for your return since this morning. She’s happy to finally see you.”

I said nothing.

“Father didn’t say much, but I saw him redecorate your room,” Matteo continued.

Still, I stayed silent.

His voice turned impatient. “Alright, Lyra. I know you’ve spent two years in that crazy place, but do you have to act like everyone owes you something? You already stole fifteen years from Lily. Can’t you give two years back to her?”

I finally turned to look at him. “So that’s why they sent you to pick me up? So I could go back and spend the rest of my life paying Lily back? Playing her scapegoat whenever she does something wrong?”

Matteo slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that. I volunteered to come here and pick you up because—”

He cut himself off and exhaled harshly. “Whatever tantrum you want to throw, don’t do it today. Father and Mother have been looking forward to bringing you home. Father hasn’t been doing well since letting you take the fall.”

A few seconds later, he added quietly, “And when we get home, don’t blame Lily. She already feels guilty enough about you taking the blame.”

I almost laughed.

Lily felt guilty? I doubted it. Looking back now, she hadn’t seemed scared at all after shooting that man at the casino. Maybe she already knew Papa would push me out to protect her.

Why would someone who never had to face consequences feel guilty for ruining another person’s life?

Matteo caught the sneer on my face, and his expression darkened even more. “I’m warning you for the last time. Don’t try anything stupid when we get home. Lily isn’t like you. She’s suffered enough. You took her place for years, so the least you can do is make her feel welcome.”

I turned slowly toward him. “I don’t owe her anything.”

That seemed to trigger him instantly.

“You owe her everything!” he snapped. “Father and Mother have already shown you enough mercy by not throwing you out completely. So stop acting pathetic and put a smile on your face.”

“Or what?” I asked quietly.

Matteo suddenly sneered and pressed the button to unlock the car doors.

“You keep acting like you want to escape this family so badly.” His voice turned mocking. “Fine. Jump out, then. Prove it. If you leave now, you’ll never have to go back to the Kane house with me.”

Matteo met my eyes through the rearview mirror. “Or you can stop acting like everyone owes you something and put on a smile when we get home.”

The challenge in his eyes was obvious. He was daring me because he believed I wouldn’t actually do it. He still thought everything I said was just another tantrum for attention.

A memory suddenly surfaced in my mind.

It was Lily’s first year with the Kane. She’d still been shy back then, always hiding in corners during parties. One night, I found her standing alone and invited her to join me in one of the children’s games.

I held her hand and led her through the ballroom.

But the moment we passed the champagne tower, Lily suddenly fell.

The entire champagne tower crashed to the ground.

Glass shattered everywhere, and the sound silenced the whole ballroom.

As the host of the party, Papa looked furious and embarrassed, but he didn’t say anything in front of the guests. His temper only exploded after everyone left.

He forced me to kneel in the living room.

“How dare you embarrass the Kane like that?” he demanded, staring at me like I was something filthy.

“I didn’t—”

Before I could finish, Lily burst into tears.

“Papa, don’t be mad at Lyra,” she cried softly. “Everything happened too fast. It wasn’t her fault.”

Papa looked at her, then back at me with even colder eyes.

“See? Now you made Lily cry too.” His voice turned sharp. “Did you ruin my party on purpose just to get attention? Did you want Lily hurt by those broken glasses? Do you know what could’ve happened if she got cut?”

The belt struck my back before I could react.

“It wasn’t me!” I cried out. “It was Lily—”

“And now you’re blaming Lily?” Another lash landed across my shoulders, leaving me gasping in pain. “Is that what I taught you?”

“It wasn’t me…”

“Then prove it.”

I looked up weakly and saw Matteo leaning lazily against the doorway, smiling as he watched.

“Prove it wasn’t your fault,” he said casually. “Otherwise, you deserve the punishment.”

But how could I prove anything?

It had only been me and Lily there. My word against hers. And everyone in that family would always choose Lily over me.

Was it because Lily was their real daughter? Maybe. But I think it was more because they felt guilty—guilty for giving me the love that was supposed to belong to her.

After the tenth lash, Papa sent me back to the ballroom to clean the shattered glass myself.

The maids stood nearby and watched, but no one was allowed to help me. I wasn’t even given gloves.

“The first year Lily came home, and you already couldn’t wait to humiliate her in front of everyone,” Matteo said coldly as he watched me kneel among the broken glass. “You knew she was shy, and you still did this to her. You’re a monster.”

I spent nearly five hours picking up every tiny piece by hand.

By the end, my palms were covered in cuts, but the pain had gone numb long ago.

My thoughts snapped back to the present when Matteo’s voice cut through the silence again.

“Go on,” he sneered. “Prove your resolve.”

My whole life had become nothing but proving myself, explaining myself and begging people to believe something wasn’t my fault.

I stared out the window at the blurred lights rushing past us.

Then I reached for the door handle.

“Lyra, don’t you dare—”

I pulled the handle open and jumped.

If the choice was between going back to the Kane family or dying, I would rather die. Living beside them was no different from living in hell.

And if I went back with Matteo today, I knew I would never truly be free or get the chance to find my real family again.

My body slammed against the road and rolled across the pavement. Pain exploded through me, but strangely, it still wasn’t as bad as the belt lashes or the glass cutting into my hands that night years ago.