Chapter 7

Lyra’s POV

A familiar sting of tears welled behind my eyelids as the words slipped out of my mouth. I dared not lift my gaze to his face—I could not bear him to witness my vulnerability. He was a stranger, after all, and only a stranger could see me like this.

“Get her luggage,” I heard his commanding voice boom overhead. Before I could protest, strong arms wrapped around my waist and tugged me forward. “Let’s go home, wife.”

His use of that word cut me deeper than any blade. “Wife.” Each time he said it, my eyes threatened to spill over. Disappointment washed through me—bittersweet, aching disappointment at the thought that all my hopes, all my dreams of spending my life with Julian, had dissolved into this moment, standing beside a man whose first and last name I didn’t even know. I barely knew anything about him beyond the strength of his arms and the firmness of his tone.

He led me across the tarmac toward the sleek black car waiting nearby. My hea