Chapter 3

The moment Damon Blackwood’s car carried Lyra away from her ruined wedding, he revealed the one truth that could make her regret getting inside.

“Vito is my cousin.”

Lyra slowly turned toward him.

“What did you say?”

Damon sat beside her in the back seat while his chauffeur drove them away from the Thorne residence. His expression remained calm, but the tension in his jaw told her he had not wanted to reveal this so soon.

“Vito and I are cousins,” he repeated.

Lyra stared at him.

Of all the men she could have crashed into the night before her wedding, she had ended up in the home of Vito’s cousin.

A bitter laugh escaped her.

“This has to be a joke.”

“It isn’t.”

“Did you know who I was when you brought me to your hotel?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Damon’s eyes hardened. “I had never met you before last night. I didn’t even know your name until you told me.”

“But you knew about the wedding.”

“I learned about it this morning.”

“How?”

“My assistant received the accident report. When he saw your name and address, he recognized them from the invitation sent to my office.”

“You were invited to my wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Were you planning to attend?”

“No.”

His direct answer almost made Lyra smile despite everything.

“Why not?”

“Vito and I aren’t close.”

“Yet you were outside my house.”

Damon glanced at the suitcase beside her.

“I came to deliver the accident papers and make sure you were safe.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Vito didn’t ask you to bring me back?”

“No.”

Lyra studied him, searching for any sign of dishonesty.

“Do you want me to go back?”

“That isn’t my decision.”

Damon leaned forward and instructed his chauffeur to stop. The car pulled over beside a quiet park.

He turned toward Lyra.

“If you want to return, I’ll take you back.”

She shook her head immediately. “No.”

“Then I won’t.”

The certainty in his voice eased some of the pressure inside her chest.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked.

It should have been a simple question, but Lyra had no answer.

Her father had thrown her out. She could never return to Vito, and Ruth’s betrayal had destroyed her trust in the person she once considered her closest friend.

“I don’t know.”

For the first time in her life, Lyra had walked away from everyone controlling her future.

Now she had nowhere to go.

Damon nodded as though her answer made perfect sense.

“You don’t have to decide everything today.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You can stay at my estate until you decide what you want.”

Lyra stiffened. “I can’t keep staying with you.”

“There’s a separate guesthouse. You’ll have your own entrance and complete privacy.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Damon’s expression softened.

“Last night, you looked like you needed someone.”

“And today?”

“Today, you still do.”

Lyra looked out the window before he could see how deeply his answer affected her.

Damon had every reason to defend his cousin. Instead, he was the only person who had allowed Lyra to make her own choices.

She should have been more suspicious of him.

Instead, she felt safe.

“Only until I find somewhere else,” she said.

“As long as you need.”

The chauffeur began driving again.

Lyra watched the city pass outside the window, unaware that accepting Damon’s offer had already changed the course of her life.

Three weeks later, she no longer felt like a guest.

What was supposed to be a short stay had quietly become the beginning of a new life.

Damon’s guesthouse stood behind his main residence, surrounded by a private garden. He never entered without her permission. He did not question her about Vito or demand to know why she had canceled the wedding.

He gave her space, privacy, and something her own family had rarely offered.

Freedom.

Lyra opened a new bank account that her father could not control. She updated her documents, began looking for work, and contacted a lawyer about protecting her inheritance.

Damon offered to help, but when she refused, he did not pressure her.

“I need to do this myself,” she told him.

“I understand.”

And he did.

That was what made it so easy to trust him.

The distance between them slowly disappeared.

They began having breakfast together before Damon went to work. In the evenings, they sometimes sat in the garden or talked on the balcony until the city became quiet.

Lyra learned that Damon drank his coffee without sugar and hated crowded parties. He rarely spoke about his family, but the weariness in his eyes revealed how many burdens he carried.

Damon learned that Lyra hummed whenever she was nervous. He discovered that she hated thunderstorms and still stopped to admire fresh flowers, even though wedding arrangements now brought painful memories.

What began as gratitude became trust.

Then trust slowly turned into something far more dangerous.

Attraction.

One rainy evening, Lyra found Damon standing on the covered balcony of the main house. He had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to his elbows.

“You’re going to get wet,” she said.

Damon glanced at the rain touching the edge of the balcony.

“So are you.”

Lyra stepped beside him anyway.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

“Do you regret helping me?” she eventually asked.

“No.”

“You barely knew me.”

“I know you now.”

Her heartbeat quickened. “And what do you think?”

Damon turned toward her.

“I think Vito was a fool.”

Lyra tried to laugh, but the warmth in his eyes stole the sound from her lips.

Damon raised one hand toward her face. Before touching her, he stopped.

He was waiting for permission.

Lyra remembered the night they met. Even when she was at her weakest, he had refused to use her pain against her.

This time, she did not want him to keep his distance.

She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek.

Something shifted between them.

“Lyra,” Damon said quietly, “if this is still about Vito, we need to stop.”

“It isn’t.”

“I need you to be certain.”

She met his eyes.

“That night, I wanted to forget him. Tonight, I only want you.”

Damon searched her face, giving her every chance to change her mind.

Lyra closed the distance and kissed him.

For one suspended moment, Damon did not move.

Then his arm circled her waist, and he returned the kiss.

The rain fell harder around them, but Lyra barely noticed it.

For the first time since her wedding fell apart, she was not thinking about the future she had lost.

She was thinking about Damon and what might happen if she trusted him with her heart.

Damon drew back and rested his forehead against hers.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The answer belonged entirely to her.

He kissed her again before leading her inside.

There was no desperation or desire for revenge between them. Damon remained gentle and patient, allowing Lyra to decide how close he could come.

That night, she did not feel like the abandoned bride Vito had betrayed.

She felt wanted.

She felt protected.

Most of all, she felt free.

When morning came, Lyra woke in Damon’s arms.

Sunlight entered through the curtains. For a moment, she remained still and listened to his breathing.

Damon opened his eyes.

“Good morning.”

Lyra smiled. “Good morning.”

“Any regrets?”

She considered the question before shaking her head.

“No.”

Relief softened his expression.

“Neither do I.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Lyra had spent weeks trying not to depend on him. That morning, she finally admitted the truth to herself.

She was falling for Damon Blackwood.

For the first time, she believed losing her old life might have led her to something real.

One week later, that hope shattered.

Lyra arrived at Damon’s office carrying lunch for them both. She had not told him she was coming because she wanted to surprise him.

His assistant was away from her desk, so Lyra walked toward his office.

Before she could knock, Vito’s angry voice came through the partly open door.

“Lyra’s inheritance belongs to our family.”

Lyra stopped.

Damon answered coldly. “Lyra does not belong to anyone.”

“You had no right to interfere in our wedding.”

“You lost the right to speak about her when you betrayed her.”

Vito laughed bitterly.

“You don’t care about Lyra. This is about defeating me.”

Through the narrow opening, Lyra saw a folder lying on Damon’s desk.

The words printed across it made her stomach tighten.

THORNE INHERITANCE CLAIM.

Damon had never told her he was investigating her inheritance.

“You always take what belongs to someone else,” Vito continued. “First the company, and now Lyra.”

“She was never yours.”

“Then what is she to you?”

A heavy silence followed.

Lyra held her breath, waiting for Damon’s answer.

“Keeping Lyra close is the only way,” Damon said.

Lyra’s phone suddenly rang.

The voices inside the office stopped.

Panicked, she silenced the call and rushed toward the elevator before either man could discover her.

She did not hear the rest of Damon’s sentence.

“Keeping Lyra close is the only way to stop you from stealing what belongs to her.”

As Lyra left the building, the words she had heard repeated in her mind.

Keeping Lyra close is the only way.

She remembered Vito’s accusation and the inheritance folder on Damon’s desk.

Had Damon known about Vito’s plan before the wedding?

Had helping her been another move in the bitter war between two powerful cousins?

Perhaps Damon had not rescued her by chance. Maybe he had only found a better way to gain her trust.

Lyra wanted to confront him, but fear held her back.

She had already trusted Vito and Ruth. Both of them had wanted something from her.

If Damon had also used her, she did not know if she could survive it.

That evening, he called.

“An urgent meeting came up,” Damon told her. “I won’t be home until morning.”

Lyra tightened her grip on the phone.

“All right.”

“You sound different. Is something wrong?”

She almost told him what she had overheard.

Then she remembered the folder bearing her family name.

“No. I’m only tired.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lyra ended the call and looked around the guesthouse.

She remembered Damon finding her after the accident. She remembered the safety of his arms and the patience with which he had earned her trust.

She remembered waking beside him and realizing she was falling in love.

That was why the possibility of another betrayal hurt so much.

Lyra packed before she could lose her courage.

Her clothes, passport, money, and documents fit inside one suitcase. She booked the earliest international flight she could find and replaced her phone’s SIM card.

Before leaving, she placed a short note on the table.

Thank you for helping me. But I need to discover who I am without another person deciding my future.

By sunrise, Lyra was gone.

Damon returned to the estate an hour later.

The moment he saw the note, he called her. Her number was already disconnected.

He searched the guesthouse and found the closets empty. Her passport, documents, and suitcase were missing.

Lyra had disappeared from his life.

Again.

Only this time, Damon knew exactly what losing her felt like.

Three weeks later, Lyra stood inside the bathroom of a small apartment in another country.

Two lines appeared on the pregnancy test in her hand.

She read the instructions again, although she already understood what they meant.

She was pregnant.

Lyra slowly sat on the edge of the bathtub and placed a trembling hand over her stomach.

Fear, wonder, and disbelief rushed through her at once.

The child was Damon’s.

She picked up her phone and entered his number. Her thumb hovered over the call button.

Then she remembered Vito’s accusation.

The inheritance folder.

Damon saying he needed to keep her close.

What if Damon wanted her inheritance too?

Worse, what if he used his power to take her child?

Lyra locked the phone and held it against her chest.

She could not take that risk.

Damon Blackwood never learned that she was carrying his baby.

By the time Lyra began to wonder if she had misunderstood everything, fear had already trapped her thousands of miles away.

Six years later, Lyra returned home with her secret holding her hand.

“Gail, stay close to me.”

The little girl slipped her fingers through Lyra’s.

“I am close, Mommy.”

Lyra smiled at her five-year-old daughter. “Closer.”

Gail pressed herself against Lyra’s side.

“Is this close enough?”

“Much better.”

Behind them, Lyra’s best friend, Wendy, supervised the unloading of their luggage.

Lyra looked up at the towering hotel before them, and her smile vanished.

BLACKWOOD’S PALACE HOTEL.

Of all the hotels their travel agent could have booked, it had chosen this one.

Damon Blackwood’s hotel.

Six years ago, Lyra had been too heartbroken to notice which properties his family owned. Now the Blackwood name was impossible to ignore.

She tightened her hold on Gail’s hand.

“We’re only staying here for a few days.”

Gail stared at the enormous building. “Do they have ice cream?”

Lyra looked down at her. “That’s your first question?”

“It’s important.”

Wendy joined them with the luggage.

“I agree with her.”

Gail smiled proudly.

Lyra shook her head. “Come on.”

They entered the hotel.

The lobby was elegant and busy, but Lyra barely noticed the polished marble, chandeliers, or expensive artwork. She walked directly to the reception desk.

“I have a reservation under Lyra Thorne.”

The receptionist checked the computer.

“Yes, Miss Thorne. One moment, please.”

Lyra nodded.

Then she noticed that Gail had become unusually quiet.

She turned and found her daughter staring across the lobby.

A man sat alone in the private lounge, reading something on his phone.

Lyra followed Gail’s gaze.

Her breath stopped.

No.

Not here.

Not now.

As though he sensed her watching him, the man slowly raised his head.

His blue eyes met hers.

In that instant, six years disappeared.

Damon.

Lyra could not move.

She had imagined this meeting countless times. She had practiced explanations and apologies she never expected to use.

Now her mind was empty.

Surprise crossed Damon’s face. It was quickly replaced by recognition and another emotion Lyra could not understand.

Before either of them could speak, Gail stepped forward.

“Mister?”

Lyra’s heart jumped.

“Melly.”

Her daughter had already approached Damon.

“You shouldn’t hold your phone so close to your face,” Gail told him. “It’s bad for your eyes.”

Damon blinked before releasing a quiet laugh.

The sound brought back memories Lyra had spent six years trying to bury.

He lowered his phone.

“Thank you for warning me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What’s your name?”

“Gail.” She pointed toward Lyra. “But Mommy calls me Melly.”

“Melly,” Damon repeated.

Lyra tightened her grip on the hotel papers.

Damon stood but did not approach her daughter. He was older and carried himself with even greater authority, but he was still the man Lyra remembered.

Gail tilted her head as she studied him.

Suddenly, her eyes widened.

“Mister, look!”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “What am I looking at?”

She pointed toward her face. “We have the same eyes.”

Lyra’s blood turned cold.

Damon’s faint smile disappeared as he studied Gail’s bright blue eyes.

They were the exact shade of his.

Then he slowly looked at Lyra.

“Lyra.”

Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to speak.

“Damon.”

A faint, bitter smile touched his lips.

“You remember my name.”

How could she ever forget?

He had saved her on the worst night of her life. She had trusted him when she could trust no one else.

Then she had abandoned him without giving him a chance to explain.

Gail looked between them.

“Mommy, do you know Mister Damon?”

Lyra swallowed. “Yes.”

“How?”

“We knew each other a long time ago.”

Damon held Lyra’s gaze.

“A very long time.”

There was no anger in his voice, which somehow made the moment worse.

“You disappeared,” he said.

“I had to leave.”

“You could have told me.”

Lyra could not answer, especially with Gail standing between them.

Damon looked at the little girl again.

“How old are you, Melly?”

Lyra’s heart nearly stopped.

Before Gail could answer, Lyra stepped forward.

“Melly, Wendy is waiting for you.”

Her daughter frowned. “But Mommy...”

“Please.”

Gail reluctantly returned to Wendy.

Damon had noticed Lyra’s panic. His eyes narrowed as he glanced toward Gail again.

“How long are you staying?” he asked.

“Only a few days.”

“Good.”

Lyra frowned. “Why is that good?”

“Because you and I need to talk.”

“We have nothing to discuss.”

“After six years?”

“My life is different now.”

Damon’s gaze moved toward Gail.

“I can see that.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“I assumed so.”

“Then don’t involve her in whatever questions you have about the past.”

Damon returned his attention to Lyra.

“I haven’t asked any questions.”

Not yet.

That was what frightened her.

Gail escaped Wendy’s hold and returned to Lyra’s side.

She looked up at Damon again.

“You really do have my eyes.”

Damon’s expression softened.

“Maybe you have mine.”

Gail giggled. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re not my daddy.”

Silence fell between them.

Damon stared at Gail before slowly turning toward Lyra.

Lyra could not breathe.

Her daughter had no idea what she had just revealed.

Damon studied Gail again, taking in her blue eyes and delicate features. Then his expression changed as he began calculating her age.

“How old is she?” he asked.

Lyra grabbed Gail’s hand.

“We need to go.”

“Lyra.”

She ignored him and began walking toward the elevators.

Damon’s voice followed her across the lobby.

“I let you disappear once.”

Lyra stopped but did not turn around.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

She closed her eyes.

Six years ago, Lyra had left the country carrying a secret Damon never knew existed.

Now that secret was five years old.

Her name was Gail, and she had just looked her father in the eyes and told him he was not her daddy.