Chapter 4: IN LAWS

AFTERNOON

The espresso machine hissed violently in the background, but nothing compared to the low-boiling fury brewing at the corner table, where Jade and Serene sat with caffeine and contempt in equal measure.

Jade slammed her laptop shut so hard the barista flinched mid-pour.

“She made us look like glorified interns,” she snapped.

“I had to explain her graphs for twenty minutes. I don’t even know what a post-Keynesian transition is.”

Serene, looking like she'd bitten into a lemon instead of sipping a macchiato, stirred her coffee with enough force to chip porcelain.

“I had to G****e her citations during Q&A and ended up on a French academic archive that tried to charge me fifty euros.”

“She napped through the compliment,” Jade hissed, leaning forward.

“And still looked smug.”

Serene’s eyes narrowed.

“We need to remind people she’s not untouchable.”

Jade smirked.

 “What’re you thinking?”

At that moment, a group of students passed by, their conversation casual, too loud, too convenient.

“Langley’s assigning individual presentations next,” one of them said.

“She already uploaded the shared drive.”

Serene’s lips curved.

Dangerously.

“No more group work. No more hiding behind her polished team. Let’s see how Lyra Moreno handles failure……alone.”

AT THE CONSERVATORY LOUNGE, VALE ESTATE

The sun filtered through walls of ivy and glass, throwing a soft shimmer over teacups and linen. In the middle of it all, Lyra sat poised between her grandparents’ calm, quiet, eyes unreadable.

Across from her, Celeste Vale the matriarch herself perched in pristine cream silk. A woman who didn’t smile without reason.

Next to her, Camille, lounging like a spoiled cat in designer boots, flicked a strawberry into her mouth and chewed with drama.

Grandmother Moreno smiled, introducing Lyra as if she were presenting an heirloom.

“Celeste, allow me to introduce our granddaughter… Lyra Vallerie Moreno.”

Celeste’s eyes lifted. She took in Lyra with one slow, deliberate glance like sizing up a rare painting that might just be priceless.

“Ah. So, this is the girl whose name drifts through circles like a whispered scandal.”

Camille grinned wide.

“She looks like a cursed princess. I love it.”

Lyra blinked slowly.

“I don’t do curses. Too noisy. Poison works better.”

A stunned pause…...then Celeste let out a soft, startled laugh. Real. Unfiltered.

“Oh, you’re wicked. I like you already.”

Grandfather Moreno poured tea with a gentle hand.

“She was raised to be elegant... but never harmless.”

Celeste accepted her tea, but her eyes remained on Lyra, thoughtful.

“There’s a sharpness to you. Quiet, but present. It’s refreshing. Most girls your age are... loud about being interesting.”

Lyra’s voice was soft, but exact.

“I don’t like being loud. I like being heard.”

Camille leaned in, eyes gleaming.

“You talk like you run underground empires.”

“I just finish things people are too afraid to start.”

Celeste sipped her tea slowly, a flicker of admiration crossing her face.

“You remind me of myself before I married into this madness.”

Grandmother Moreno smiled knowingly.

“She’s always seen too much. Learned to stay still in the storm. And never blink first.”

Camille squinted.

 “You don’t blink a lot. Is that, like... trained or natural?”

Lyra’s reply was flat…. “Natural. I conserve energy.”

Laughter. Camille looked positively dazzled.

Celeste set her cup down with a quiet clink.

“You don’t belong on a shelf, or a pedestal. You’re not a girl to be dressed up for display.”

Lyra nodded once.

“No one owns me. But I do look good in couture.”

Another genuine laugh. Camille choked on her strawberry.

Celeste studied her one last time.

 “Terrifying. In a pretty way.”

Camille threw her a strawberry. Lyra caught it effortlessly.

“Okay,” Camille said.

“I’m starting a fan club. First rule? You can’t speak unless you’re quoting Lyra.”

Lyra smirked.

 “You’re chaos.”

Camille beamed.

 “You’re ice. I’m the glitter explosion. Balance.”

Later, Celeste motioned for Lyra to stay behind as the rest wandered off.

Just the two of them now.

The silence was velvet.

“I’ve spent my life reading people,” Celeste said, voice low.

“But you... you don’t unravel. You seal shut.”

“Sealed things are safer.”

“You sit here, sharing tea with a woman who could destroy reputations in three phone calls.”

Lyra’s smile was thin ice. “Only three? I usually need five.”

Celeste laughed, almost delighted.

“You’re dangerous. Not because you speak, but because you don’t.”

“They mistake silence for weakness.”

“And you let them.”

Lyra tilted her head.

 “Mistakes are useful. People show their hands when they think I’m harmless.”

Celeste smiled. “Elias will need someone like you.”

“I don’t think he needs me.”

“No. But he’s drawn to you. Whether you see it or not.”

Lyra’s gaze didn’t shift. “I don’t do effect. I do results.”

Celeste leaned forward slightly.

“Don’t dim yourself. Not even for Elias. Especially for Elias.”

“I won’t bend. I am not dim. I burn quietly.”

Celeste exhaled.

“Then I look forward to watching the world catch fire.”

In the evening at Elias’s Study.

In the foor-to-ceiling windows. Leather and steel. The scent of old books, expensive whiskey, and the faint crackle of a fireplace in the background.

Elias leaned over a report, sleeves rolled, tie loosened not from chaos, but from precision fatigue.

He only looked up when Camelle burst in like she owned the world.

“I think I’m in love.”

“Again?”

She collapsed onto his couch with a dramatic sigh.

“She’s like if winter was a person. She said seven sentences the entire afternoon and I want them all tattooed on my body.”

“You’re not supposed to fall in love with my…” Elias paused, brow furrowing.

“…person you’re vaguely and confusingly associated with.”

Camelle gasped.

“Oh my God. You like her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You paused. You hesitated. That’s basically an emotional confession in your language.”

“She’s cold. Calculated. Disappears at random hours. She’s hiding something.”

“Exactly. She’s perfect for you.”

Camelle narrowed her eyes. “…Have you met her already?”

Elias, under his breath, “No… not yet.”

“This is what I get for letting you read spy novels.”

Camelle clutched a pillow like it was her emotional support dagger.

“I’d carry her coat. Hold her coffee. Be her loyal royal fan girl.”

“She’d kill you in your sleep.”

“I’d die beautifully.”

Elias didn’t reply. He set the report aside and stood, moving toward the fireplace with fluid calm. The fire popped quietly. He held a glass of scotch in one hand, untouched, amber catching the light.

Camelle remained curled into the leather chaise like a cat in cashmere, watching him the way only a sister could.....equal parts mischief and affection.

“So,” she said, swirling her drink lazily, “how long are you going to pretend you’re not obsessed with her?”

“I’m not.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m analyzing her.”

Camelle snorted. “You sound like you’re dissecting a weapon, not a woman.”

He looked up. “Same thing, in this case.”

“Oh, darling,” she purred, rising and gliding toward the fire, “you do realize you’re not the only one holding a blade in this engagement, right?”

Elias’s expression remained unreadable.

“Rio keeps running background checks on her,” Camelle continued, arching a brow. “Theo’s trying to memorize her schedule. I haven’t seen the boys that stunned since your mother threatened to rearrange the family tree with pruning shears.”

“She’s strategic.”

“She’s lethal,” Camelle corrected. “And that’s why you like her.”

Elias’s jaw ticked. “I don’t ‘like’ anyone.”

“No,” she said lightly. “You build walls, delegate feelings to assistants, and only flirt through corporate mergers. It’s very healthy.”

He said nothing.

Camelle’s voice softened, just slightly. “But this one? You don’t know how to catalog her yet, do you?”

He didn’t answer. Just walked back to his desk and set the glass down beside a folder. A photo was clipped to the file....Lyra, in grayscale, head turned slightly, eyes unreadable. One of the stills from a security feed his team had flagged weeks ago.

He stared at it for a moment too long.

“She doesn’t follow pattern,” he said at last.

“No,” Camelle replied, almost fond. “She breaks them.”

Still, he said nothing.

Camelle crossed to the door but paused in the threshold, silhouetted by the faint glow of hallway light.

“She’s not afraid of you, Eli. That’s rare.”

“I know.”

“She’ll either wreck you,” Camelle said, “or rebuild something better. Good luck guessing which.”

The door clicked softly shut behind her.

Silence settled once more. Heavy. Still.

Elias didn’t move for a long time.

Then...finally....he looked back down at the file.

Lyra’s eyes stared back.

Still. Cold. Limitless.

And somewhere, buried in the privacy of his own mind, a quiet truth echoed.

He was already unraveling.

And Lyra hadn’t even tried.