The CEO's 25th Hour Bride

Chapter 12

Lyra’s POV

Lisa’s hand closed over my wrist.

“You don’t have to go,” she said, her voice low, almost pleading. “If you don’t want to.”

I shook my head. “I do.” My thumb brushed over the condensation on my glass, tracing an absent pattern. “I’m not free until I go. There’s no skipping this.”

Lisa exhaled and gave me that look—the one that said she knew arguing was pointless but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried.

“Be careful,” she said. Then her tone softened. “And you still haven’t told me what the Oracle said. Promise me you’ll update me.”

I nodded, standing to gather my things. “I will.”

She squeezed my shoulder once. “Go, then. But come back in one piece.”

I walked out first, the soft glow of the restaurant fading behind me as the city embraced me again. The street lamps cast long shadows over my steps, the wind carrying the faint scent of rain and exhaust, mixing with nerves I hadn’t fully acknowledged yet.

By the time I reached home, I braced myself for the tension I knew would fill the air—sharp, suffocating, ready to slice into me the moment I crossed the threshold.

It wasn’t there.

Instead, the house smelled faintly of lemon polish and warm bread, as though nothing unusual had happened at all. Light flickered across polished wood and glossy marble, playful instead of oppressive, like we’d found a secret stash of gold in a forgotten drawer.

I stopped, just inside the doorway, and let my eyes sweep over them. My father, Odette, and Angela all looked at me with that strange blend of practiced calm and barely contained excitement, the kind that only comes when someone is holding back news too big for words.

“Sit,” my father said before I could speak, his voice steady and commanding, cutting through my thoughts like a blade.

I obeyed, lowering myself into the chair opposite him, my hands clasped in my lap. I studied their faces carefully. Odette’s smile was just wide enough to be dangerous; Angela’s eyes sparkled with an almost cruel delight. They wore their excitement like masks, flawless but unreadable.

My mind raced, piecing together possibilities. Another deal? Another announcement? Something else for me to navigate, I thought wearily.

My father leaned forward, voice gentle but firm, reminding me as though he sensed my distant thoughts. “You have less than a week until the arrangement with Maverick Cole.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the familiar tight coil of anxiety curl around my stomach. My fingers dug lightly into my laps, trying to steady the tremor I didn’t want them to see.

Then he said it, casually, almost as if it were an ordinary conversation. “You might not have to worry about that anymore.”

The words hit me with the force of something I didn’t understand at first. I blinked rapidly.

“Odette will be marrying into a more powerful family,” he continued, his tone calm, almost approving. “So I won’t have to cower at Maverick’s mercy.”

A strange lightness spread through my chest. Relief, tentative and sharp, prickled my nerves. My shoulders loosened slightly, though curiosity immediately surged to replace the gap. More powerful family? Which family?

I didn’t have to wait long. The next words left my father’s mouth with that smooth, measured cadence that made even the most significant bombshell feel like a mere detail.

“She will be joining the St. Clair family.”

My eyes widened involuntarily. My mind spun.

St. Clair?

I barely had time to process before my stomach tightened again.

Does Max have a brother? Is this...good? Bad? Dangerous?

I caught myself, forcing a small, awkward smile to my face. Odette and Angela were giggling silently, their eyes bright with anticipation, unaware—or perhaps delighting in the storm of realization I tried to hide.

“The introduction is in a week,” my father continued, his gaze sweeping over all of us. “Make sure to put forward your best character. Do not ruin this for your sister.”

I nodded weakly, my smile a brittle shield against the chaos unraveling in my thoughts. Odette’s eyes lingered on me, bright and knowing, as if testing the cracks in my composure.

The room felt suddenly too full, my head light, my chest tight and fluttering at once. The weight of the day, the shock of revelations, and the distant echo of Max’s name mingled with the anticipation my family carried like a currency I wasn’t yet allowed to touch.

I tried to steady myself, telling my brain to focus, to breathe, to remember that I could navigate this. But the dizziness pressed in, and for a heartbeat, I just wanted to disappear into the sanctuary of my room, to retreat from the weight of obligations and secrets and expectations that now felt heavier than ever.

Before I could move, Angela’s voice, light and teasing, broke through my haze.

“And what were you doing all day,” she asked, glancing at the gown I’d been wearing, “dressed like that?”

Panic seized me. My mind scrambled for an excuse, a plausible story, a distraction from the truth I wasn’t ready to share. Words tangling in my throat, I opened my mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“Oh,” I began lamely, my voice a little too high, a little too careful. “I just…ran some errands.”

Angela’s lips curled into a mischievous half-smile, clearly unconvinced. Odette’s eyes gleamed with curiosity now, sharp and playful, watching my every twitch and breath.

I forced myself to maintain the weak smile plastered across my face, but inside, a storm was brewing. Between Max, the St. Clair family, and my own tangled obligations, the days ahead were shaping into something far more dangerous than anything I had anticipated when I’d left the restaurant this afternoon.

And I wasn’t even sure I was ready to face it.

I barely made it to my room before I peeled off the dress, letting it pool in a crumpled heap on the floor.

The weight of the day pressed against my skin, and I quickly ran a hand over my face and through my hair, the faint scent of soap and warm water clinging to me from the quick shower I’d stolen earlier. Slipping into something soft, something that smelled faintly of my own comfort, I sank onto the bed with a quiet, exhausted sigh.

Reaching across the nightstand, my fingers closed around the small box that held my mother’s bracelet. I hadn’t meant to touch it tonight—not really—but the pull was instinctive, like I needed the weight of it in my palm to anchor myself. To remind myself I wasn’t completely untethered.

The bracelet was warm against my fingers, the metal cool and familiar in the same moment. I traced the tiny engraving along its surface, the curves of my mother’s handwriting etched into memory as much as into silver.

And then my mind began to wander, as it always did when the world felt unsteady.

The Oracle’s words whispered in my head, insistent, impossible to ignore.

“She failed to disrupt the pattern.”

“She loved you enough to hope you might do what she could not.”

"Seraphina..." I whispered my mother’s name under my breath. "What exactly did you go through?”

The box slipped in my hands, tumbling with a sharp, hollow sound onto the floor.

“s**t,” I muttered, bending quickly to gather it, the bracelet clinking in protest. My fingers worked to reassemble the lid and base, the pieces awkward and stubborn in my hands.

And then I saw it.

A small key, tucked just beneath the bottom board of the box, hidden until the pieces had shifted. It was tiny, delicate, unassuming, but there was something about it that made my heart skip. A sudden pulse of curiosity and unease.

I picked it up, turning it over in my hand. Gold, with a tiny filigree handle, unmarked.

My pulse ticked faster.

What was this for?

I didn’t know, but something told me it mattered. Somehow.