Chapter 20

Lyra’s POV

All day, I remained in my room with Sienna, just as the bulky man in a black suit and dark glasses had instructed. His tone had brooked no argument, and it was clear the order came straight from Alistair. So Sienna and I settled on the chaise lounge, sipping lukewarm tea and trading gossip—everything from the latest runway scandals to the insiders’ whispers about upcoming photo shoots. Our chatter flitted from one topic to the next: an up-and-coming designer who owed her first big break to a viral TikTok video, a fellow model rumored to demand increasingly outrageous fees, and the studio drama when two photographers clashed over lighting techniques. Each anecdote offered a welcome distraction from my own tangled thoughts, and for a while, the empty knot in my chest loosened.

But underneath my laughter, that same restless stir continued, a silent ache I couldn’t quite name. As dusk deepened outside, shadows spilled across the carpet, and I realized I was