Left at the altar, Claimed by his uncle

Four days. That's how long Daphne had said it'd take her guy to get the research without Alex noticing. Of course Alex had done damage control—told the public that she was lying and she had no proof. That she'd just been upset Nadine was chosen for the position instead of her. But very soon, she’d release the proof—Four days from now, when her mother’s research was safely out of Alex’s reach. The kitchen door opened before she could even load the last plate in the dishwasher. Alex stood in the doorway. Lyra’s eyes widened with shock, then she glared at him. “How did you get in? I changed the code.” “It's not hard to guess that you'd change it from my birthday to yours.” “Get out,” she said. He didn't budge. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You embarrassed me last night.” Lyra stared at him for a moment, brows raising with disbelief. “Good.” Alex's expression darkened. “You think this is a joke?” A small laugh escaped her. “You cheated on me, gave your mistres

Moments later, Tyson returned with a nurse in her mid-twenties. She checked Lyra's vitals and said she was fine. The impact from the accident wasn't fatal, and she just had a few bruises.After the nurse left, Tyson sat beside Lyra, an awkward silence stretching in the room. Until he broke it. “Sorry about what happened. I didn't see you.” She nodded. Then after a moment he added, “And sorry about Alex too.” He shrugged. “You've always had poor choices in men, anyway.”Lyra straightened and gawked at him, brows furrowing. “You said??”“I'm not wrong, am I? Was it…” Tyson looked up thoughtfully, fingers massaging his chin. “Dylan? From ninth grade?”“Whoa, I can't believe you'd hold that against me,” she said defensively. “I was young and stupid and naive.”“‘was’? As in past tense? I mean, you were going to marry Alex—”“Uncle Tyson.” Lyra frowned. Tyson had hit a spot. Everyone thought she was stupid for clinging onto Alex all this while, including her friend, Daphne. But it was mor

Alex paced the length of the room, fingers tapping on his waist anxiously as he watched the phone ring. The call connected on the second ring. “Mum. Have you seen the news? Stock is falling, what do we do?” He rasped. "Alex," Fiona groaned. “But I told you to be more carefu—” “Please, please,” he snapped impatiently. “Now's not the time to point fingers. What's the way forward?” There was a beat of silence on the other end before Fiona spoke again. “The media team is on it.” Alex's feet stilled, nose flaring. “Are they?” he hissed. “This shouldn't have leaked if they'd done their fucking job!!” “The video spread too fast and is refusing to die down.” She explained. “Seems like someone with a lot of spare cash is keeping it trending and watering down our efforts. But don't worry, it'll be fixed.” “Arrgh!” Alex roared and flung his phone. It hit the wall with a clattering sound, its broken parts falling to the ground. “Fuck!!” He moved over to the dresser, and in one fl

Lyra’s eyes widened, and panic rose to her chest, almost choking her. She watched in slow motion as he pulled something out of his pants' pocket. Even without him bringing it out, she had a pretty great guess as to what it was. From the shape and size—God, help her—it was eighty percent a gun. Ninety-five, though that level of sincerity felt like a death sentence.A robber? A thought struck her mind, and slowly, her trembling fingers reached for her bag—her pepper spray.But suddenly, the man was ripped away from her. He crashed into the ground with a grunt, fingers uncurling so that his gun slipped out with a clang.Lyra gasped. She knew it!Then she saw him—Tyson.In front of her.His chest heaved as he glared at the man who was sprawled on the floor, groaning in pain.From the shadows, two men appeared. They seized the creepy guy’s gun before proceeding to drag him away. Then Tyson faced her, his gaze softening instantly and his shoulders relaxing when he saw that she was okay.

On instinct, Tyson pushed Lyra to the floor with him. He rolled over and climbed her, wedging himself with an elbow so his full weight doesn't crush her. His scent curled around her—suffocating, intoxicating.He pressed a finger against his lips, urging her to be quiet. Lyra stirred under him. Her heart pounding, beads of sweat trickling down her temples, her fingers curling and uncurling. But somehow, listening to his erratic breathing and the way his chest heaved above her, made her calmer.More gunshots echoed in the air. Lyra jerked with fear and held her breath, her lungs forgetting how to breathe.The loud music still thrumming from the speakers, the colorful lights, the screaming, chairs scraping the floors, bodies ducking with a thud, grated on her already frayed nerves. It was worse than a circus with a wild lion on the loose. Her breathing became more ragged as she struggled to draw in air.“It's okay. I've got you.” Tyson whispered into her ear. “You're good.” He massaged