Chapter 2:Sisters At War

Lyra's POV

The tension in the room was palpable, thickening like a storm ready to unleash. The silence vibrated with the kind of fury that only people like Uncle Zorah and Meera could muster. I crossed my arms, determined to maintain my composure, while inside, my thoughts churned with a mix of anger and confusion.

I shifted my gaze between them, my voice dripping with pointed sarcasm.

“Well, I see the way out of this is to throw Meera under the bus instead of myself. I can’t help but think the old man has his sights set on her, right?”

For a brief moment, Uncle Zorah’s eyes flickered with something that straddled amusement and anger before he let out a low, sinister chuckle. His fingers drummed on the table, the sound slicing through the charged silence.

Meera, predictably, didn’t take it well. She hurled a pillow at me—aimed precisely at my head. I sidestepped smoothly, leaning against the doorframe as if I hadn’t just faced the most brutal decision of my life moments earlier.

“Stupid girl!” Meera spat, her voice laced with venom as the pillow thudded harmlessly against the wall. Her eyes blazed, glaring at me like I was a pest she wanted to eradicate.

I shrugged, a smirk playing on my lips. “Oh, did I hurt your precious feelings? My bad, princess. I get that being perfect is a tough job, but try not to take your frustrations out on me, okay?”

Uncle Zorah's lips twisted into a thin smile, and I could almost hear the gears grinding in his mind. He was trying to keep control, to keep up his mask of power, but it was slipping—just slightly. He stood up slowly, smoothing down his suit as though he were in full control of the situation. His voice dropped, cold and deliberate.

“You’re testing my patience, Lyra. Don’t forget who holds the cards here.”

"Right, right," I muttered, rolling my eyes, ignoring the way my heartbeat quickened.

"You’re the one holding all the cards, and I’m just the poor little pawn caught in your little game." I let out a huff. "Honestly, Uncle, for someone so smart, you sure have a way of making everyone hate you."

The tension in the room was palpable now, like we were all sitting on the edge of a knife. The old man—whose name I still hadn’t even bothered to learn—was watching this exchange with the kind of amusement you'd expect from someone who had already won.

He leaned back in his chair, looking far too comfortable for my taste. His predatory smile was still there, like it belonged on a rat.

"You know," the old man finally rasped, his voice like nails on a chalkboard, "I do enjoy a good chase. But you, Lyra—you're making this more difficult than it needs to be."

I forced myself not to shudder. I was a prisoner in my own home, and somehow, that made it all the worse. They all seemed so used to this, like they were just waiting for me to crack under pressure. Well, not today.

"I don’t care if you enjoy the chase. I’m not going anywhere," I snapped, lifting my chin in defiance. "You’re not getting me without a fight."

Meera snorted from across the room, crossing her arms over her chest. "A fight? What fight, Lyra? You’ve been a slave in this house for years, and now you think you have the power to defy us?"

I could feel my anger bubbling, but I wasn’t about to let her get under my skin. Instead, I plastered on a grin that I hoped was just as sharp as my words. "I don’t need power to defy you, Meera. I just need the will to not let you win."

"Enough!" Uncle Zorah barked, slamming his fist down onto the table. The noise reverberated through the room, shaking the walls and rattling the glassware. I flinched, but didn’t back down. He was losing control. And I had to keep pushing.

"You think you're funny?" he growled, his voice like thunder. “You’ve been playing at defiance for far too long, Lyra. It’s time to understand something—you don’t have a choice in this. Sign the damn contract or we’ll make you wish you had."

His words were like cold steel, and I could feel the weight of them pressing down on me, suffocating me with their cruel finality.

I took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of strength I had. My heart was pounding in my chest, but I wasn’t going to let him see it. Not now.

"You’ll make me wish, huh?" I raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer to the table, staring Uncle Zorah dead in the eye. "What’s next, Uncle? You going to lock me in a room until I’m begging you to marry me off to this...creepy old man?"

Uncle Zorah’s face twisted into something dark and dangerous. "You really want to test me, Lyra?"

I felt a moment of pure adrenaline surge through me, but then the old man stood up, cutting off any possibility of further banter. His hand moved to the contract in front of me, sliding it over with a swift, deliberate motion.

"You have no more time to waste, little bride." His voice was low, condescending.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I refused to let him see the effect his words had on me. I stared at the paper in front of me, feeling the cold weight of it as if it were a chain being wrapped around my neck.

I wanted to throw it out the window, burn it, rip it apart—but I knew there was no point in that. My mind raced for an escape, but each path only led me back to this inevitable moment. This was happening, and I had to face it.

The silence in the room became a weight pressing down on me. My pulse thudded in my ears, and my throat tightened. For a long moment, it felt like I was drowning in it all.

Then, with a forceful motion, Uncle Zorah’s hand slammed down onto the contract, pushing it closer to me.

"Sign it, Lyra," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for dissent.

I fixed my gaze on the document, my eyes burning with frustration and defiance. I could feel the pressure building, but I wasn’t going to be crushed by it.

I grabbed the pen and with determination, I signed.

My hand shook slightly as the ink met with the paper but I didn’t hesitate. I wasn’t going allow myself to be intimated.

Uncle Zorah smirked, satisfaction radiating from him as he watched me. Meera let out a soft,cruel laugh and I could notice the old man’s smile grow wider and the next words that came out of his mouth were…

“Good girl .”

But in that moment, I had thought of a plan.