The CEO's 25th Hour Bride

Chapter 3

Lyra's

Odette pressed her lips and rolled her eyes. Angela’s smile shriveled. Both of them looked at me as though I had interrupted a celebration I was never invited to.

I kept my head down and continued climbing.

“Lyra,” Angela called, her voice stretched thin with irritation. “Are you blind, or do you just enjoy pretending we don’t exist?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t even slow my steps.

Angela’s heels clacked faster down the stairs. Her hand snapped around my arm and yanked me backward.

Pain shot through the muscle, but I kept my face blank.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” she hissed. “I’m talking to you.”

I stared at her hand digging into my skin. She always touched me like I was an object she’d been forced to manage.

Odette stood a few steps above her, arms crossed, chin tilted with that small smirk she reserved for moments she felt superior — which was always around me.

“What is this attitude?” Angela demanded. “Stomping around like the world wronged you. At least acknowledge your elders.”

I lifted my eyes slowly, forcing my voice into something steady.

“I’m going to my room.”

Angela scoffed. “Such manners. No wonder your father is frantic, trying to fix this family’s image.”

A bitter heat ran up my throat.

Fix the family’s image? Is that what he called trading me off?

Odette snorted softly. “Mother, maybe she’s sulking because she heard.”

Angela’s eyes flicked to her daughter. “Heard what?”

Odette raised a brow, deliberately meeting my gaze.

“You know… the marriage thing.”

Angela clicked her tongue. “Honestly, Lyra, you should be grateful. Girls like you don’t get opportunities like this. Maverick Cole is powerful. Generous. He’ll turn your life around.”

Her nails pressed deeper into my skin.

The sting shot all the way up to my shoulder, a hot, humiliating pulse that made me flinch.

Improve my life?

She didn’t care about my future — only about the alliance, the status and the money that would flow like new blood into this house once I was traded away. The knowledge twisted inside me like a hook. This wasn’t just happening to me — they were excited about it.

Then Angela added, too casually,

“And maybe once you’re gone, this house will finally feel… peaceful. It’s exhausting tiptoeing around your moods.”

A cold rush spread through my body.

There it was. The truth she avoided dressing up. She wanted me gone.

Odette didn’t bother hiding her smile. “It’ll be nice, honestly. The air might even feel lighter.”

Angela laughed softly at that, her nails digging harder into my skin.

A hot pressure built behind my eyes, blurring the edges of the staircase. Every part of me stung like I’d been scraped raw and left open for them to poke at. I wasn’t just hurt. I felt stripped, exposed, humiliated in a house that had never once made room for me.

I pulled my arm free from her grasp before she could say anything else. This time she didn’t expect the strength; she stumbled a half step back, startled that I dared move without permission.

I didn’t bother replying to them, I simply kept climbing. Each step up the staircase felt like a countdown.

Their voices floated behind me as I climbed the remaining steps, each word a needle sliding under my ribs.

“She’s always been ungrateful,” Angela muttered.

Odette replied, “As long as she doesn’t mess it up. Father said this deal is important.”

The word “deal” echoed in my mind sinking deeper and deeper, twisting with everything they had thrown at me. To them, it wasn’t a marriage. It wasn’t my future or my safety or my consent. It was a transaction, a problem solved by handing me off to someone old enough to be my father. My entire life had been reduced to leverage.

By the time I reached my room, my chest felt too tight for air.

I pushed open my bedroom door and leaned against it as it shut. The moment the wood clicked into its frame, the weight in my chest finally cracked open. The sting, the humiliation, the fear — all of it surged up at once, spilling into tears I had been holding back since the study.

But my body didn’t care what I wanted.

I slid down the door and sat on the floor, hugging my knees to keep myself from falling apart completely.

My father’s voice replayed in my mind.

“You will be getting married in two weeks.”

“All you have to do is sign it.”

“You understand that?”

I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to block out the world.

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he had no right, to do anything other than stand there and nod like a child.

But I had learned better.

Defiance only ever earned me worse.

My breaths came shaky, uneven. The vision crept back into my mind without mercy.

Was that what waited for me?

Was the universe showing me the ending before the story even began?

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and forced myself to stand. My legs felt weak, but I crossed the room and pulled out the small wooden box I kept hidden beneath the bed.

Inside was my mother’s bracelet — the only thing of hers I had left. I touched the metal gently, tracing the worn edges, wishing she were here. Wishing she could tell me what to do. Wishing she could tell me my future wasn’t sealed.

I sat on the edge of my bed, phone warm in my hand, my fingers trembling slightly. The vision had left me raw, my chest tight, and my thoughts scattered. I needed someone to ground me.

Lisa was the only one who would understand without judgment. The only one who’d listen and believe me when I said something insane like… seeing my own death.

I typed quickly, hesitating over every word.

“Hey… are you awake?”

Almost instantly, her reply buzzed back.

“Unfortunately yes. Why? 👀”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Her little emoji, that tiny bit of humor, made the panic in my chest flare and retreat all at once.

“Can you come to the store tomorrow? Morning if possible.

There’s something I need to tell you.”

The typing bubble paused, then popped back with Lisa’s inevitable probing.

“…Lyra what’s going on?

You’re texting like you’re about to confess to a murder.”

I swallowed hard. I hated this feeling, hated how exposed I felt even over text. But I had to tell her. I had to.

I stared at the blinking cursor. My vision—the way it had ended, the shadows, the panic, the marriage proposal tangled in the fear—was pressing in on me again. My hands shook as I typed.

“I think I saw my death…”

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. Then I set my phone face down and buried my face in my hands, shivering even though the room was warm.

The lights above flickered, a subtle reminder that the world didn’t stop for visions—or for me. I wasn’t ready for Lisa’s response yet. Not tonight.