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It Can't Be

The first thing Lyra saw when she pried open her crusty eyes with her head throbbing was a glint of steel. An actual blade. Sharp. Real. And terrifyingly close. It hovered about an inch from her throat, catching the light.The second thing she noticed, right after the “oh my god I’m about to die” realization was the man holding the blade.Lyra was momentarily stunned. She was lying in what appeared to be a pile of dried leaves. Outside. In the woods. In nothing but her oversized sleep shirt—which, to her horror, still had the unmistakable coffee stain from last Thursday’s caffeine mishap and the words “NOT TODAY, SATAN” stretched across the front in bold, unapologetic font.Lyra instinctively looked down at herself, groaned, and then looked back up at him. “Okay, so not my best look,” she muttered. “But really, you’d stab me because I look like shit? What are you? A barbarian?”His grip tightened slightly on the blade. “Lirae?” he asked confused.Lyra blinked. “Gesundheit?”His brow f

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I Am Elias Bridge

Before she could launch into a full-on panic attack, the man’s large hand gently grasped her wrist, steadying her.He pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket—a detail she noticed only because it screamed old money and carefully wiped at her cheek. The touch was surprisingly tender.“There.” The man said it simply.Lyra blinked, her cheek still tingling from the brief, almost reverent touch. “Thanks,” she muttered, rubbing the opposite side of her face just to feel somewhat in control again. “So again—who are you and where exactly am I?”*****“I am Elias Bridge,” he replied, as if the name should come with a drumroll or a herald with a trumpet. “You are in my estate.”Lyra’s brain stuttered at the word estate. “Okay…” she said slowly, processing. “Estate. Got it. Fancy word for land that probably has its own name and decorative fountains.” She paused, gesturing around at the towering trees.“Well, if you could just kindly point me toward the nearest exit, I’ll be on my merry

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I Don't Follow

Then the record scratched.“Wait a minute,” she said, taking a step back. “Did you say… carriage?”“Yes…” Elias replied, a little confused. “Why? High society sorts do ride in carriages.”“Oh no,” she said, slowly blinking as the realization hit her. “I’m sorry—is this some kind of immersive period drama town? Like, are there cameras somewhere? Is this a weird influencer prank? I swear, if this is for TikTok, I will cry. I will.”*****“I don’t follow,” Elias said, still trying to make sense of the strange blend of energy and insanity that was the woman before him.Just then, the carriage rolled into view, pulled by two regal black horses, their hooves clicking rhythmically against the cobblestone. Lyra’s eyes lit up as though someone had just handed her a lifetime supply of chocolate and free Wi-Fi.“Oh my God! It is!” she squealed, clutching her chest dramatically. “Why didn’t you say so? This is like every Jane Austen fantasy I’ve ever had!”She giggled—a bright, delighted sound th

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She Isn't Lirae

But that wasn’t what caught Elias off guard.It was the way her head lolled against his shoulder, mouth slightly ajar, and snoring with the enthusiasm of a chainsaw. No wonder her ex dumped her.And if that weren’t enough, a tiny bead of drool wobbled on the edge of her lip, threatening to betray her dignity.“Really?” he muttered under his breath, torn between irritation and an undeniable flicker of tenderness.*****Carefully, as if she might shatter into a million pieces if moved too roughly, Elias scooped her up in his arms. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake, the faint scent of bird poop mingling with her natural, faintly sweet scent.The carriage came to a halt, and Elias climbed out with practiced ease, cradling Lyra against his chest. Her soft, steady breathing was almost hypnotic.The grand doors of his mansion swung open before he could even reach them, as if on cue. His butler, Thadeus, was already waiting, impeccably dressed.“Your highness,” Thaddeus gasped, his usual c

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Oh My God!

But Lyra wasn’t one to wallow in pity. No, she’d decided to drown her sorrows somewhere fun—a strip club.As she sipped her overly sweet cocktail, trying to ignore the neon lights and the questionable dance moves, she spotted her boyfriend kissing a stripper right in front of her. Yep. That was a special kind of heartbreak cocktail no one warned her about.The day after, Lyra received news that should have been a miracle—or at least mildly uplifting. Her aunt, who had been missing for twenty years and whom the family had long presumed had run off to join a cult, had been officially declared dead. And apparently, the woman had left her house to Lyra in her will.The house was a disaster. Disaster felt like a cute understatement, actually. It was less “dream home” and more “haunted junkyard with a mortgage.” The windows were cracked, the walls whispered in the wind, and she was fairly certain something had moved under the floorboards when she sneezed. The only thing missing was ominous

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For The Love Of God

He dropped her.“What the…? Gee…Thanks,” Lyra groaned, propping herself up with a wince. Her damp hair stuck to her face, and her dignity scattered across the floor.“Sorry! I—uh—here!” he stammered, grabbing the towel from the ottoman. He flung it toward her and immediately spun around, his back to her, his ears turning an impressive shade of crimson.“For the love of God!” he exclaimed. “What in the world are you doing walking around without clothes on?!”“Excuse me?” she snapped, quickly getting to her feet, wrapping the towel around her body. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”“Your room?” he repeated, incredulous. “This is my bedroom.”She scoffed, clutching the towel tighter. “That you gave me to use! What, because it’s your bedroom, I don’t get any privacy? You could have knocked! You could have announced your presence! You could have—oh, I don’t know—not barged in!”“Are you decent?” he asked finally, each word carefully selected.“Oh, what’s the point? You already got

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I Am So Sorry

She stepped forward as Thaddeus pulled out her chair.Her heel slid and she toppled backwards. Lyra’s arms flailed as she grabbed onto the nearest life preserver: the tablecloth.With the grace of a falling chandelier, she landed with a resounding thud on the polished floor, dragging half the contents of the breakfast table down with her in a symphony of crashing silverware, flying toast, and sloshing juice.A full jug of orange liquid arched beautifully through the air and landed squarely on Elias.“Oh my God!” Lyra gasped, sprawled. Scrambled eggs clung to her arm, and toast was stuck in her hair. She blinked rapidly as a rogue sausage rolled down her dress and came to a dignified stop on her lap.Thaddeus looked like he was about to implode. “My lady! I—I am so sorry! Are you alright?” He rushed to her side, helping her to her feet.Thaddeus took one look at Elias and froze. His eyes widened in utter horror as he took in the juice-soaked attire.“Your Highness! I… Oh Lord,” Thaddeu

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I Have A Suggestion

The moment the words left his mouth, Lyra’s eyes flew open, outrage bursting forth like a shaken soda can.She sputtered, pointing at him. “You—! I—I cannot believe you just—!”“I cannot wait to get the hell out of this place!” she snapped. She gave a very unladylike snort and stormed out of the room.Goodness… he hadn’t had this much of an internal laugh in ages. The things she did, the way she said them… Sure, she was a whirlwind of chaos and emotional carnage, but there was something endearingly unpredictable about her.Thaddeus cleared his throat.“Your Highness… I have a suggestion,” he said cautiously, stepping forward.Elias arched a brow. “You always do…”“I was thinking,” Thaddeus said, eyes glancing toward the door Lyra had just stormed through, “that you delay Miss Lyra’s return.”Elias looked up sharply, his moment of mirth evaporating. “And pray tell,” he asked, folding his arms with mild suspicion, “why the hell w

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Its Not The Dumbest Idea

He gave her a long look, arms folded now, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re saying your plan is what? Walk into the nearest mirror and hope for the best?”“It’s not the dumbest idea,” she said coolly.“You made me lose my streak for that?” Elias turned, raising one sharply groomed eyebrow at her.Lyra just shrugged, biting back a grin. “There you go again… blaming me. Have you considered that you’re just a lousy shot?”Elias blinked. Slowly. Dramatically. “Excuse me?!”Lyla knew she was pushing it. Heck, she was practically shoving it off a cliff. But something about the man brought out her inner gremlin. The more refined and poised he tried to be, the more she wanted to stick bubblegum in his boots. “Hey… don’t murder me. I’m just stating the obvious,” she added, feigning concern as she raised both hands in mock surrender.

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You Said She Was Dead

Lyra sat back, unsure of what to do with this version of him. The sarcastic prince she could handle—this wounded one was trickier.“But you said you buried her,” she pointed out. “You said she was dead.”Just how much had he blurted out when he found her?“Ah… yes…” Elias said, clearing his throat in a way that made it obvious he was flailing. “I, uh, secretly buried her. Because I want to find out what happened to her.”Lyra stared at him. “So… let me get this straight. You buried her in secret… so no one would know she was dead… because you are trying to find her killer.”“…That’s the basic outline, yes,” he said, not even trying to hide his discomfort.“Wow.” She blinked slowly. “And I’m the weird one.”Elias reached for his tea, muttering under his breath. “You still are.”But Lyra didn’t laugh. She leaned in a little, studying him again, and when she spoke, her voice had lost some of its bite.“So, you want me to pretend to be the dead woman you loved?”Elias met her gaze. “That’

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