Lyra's POV
The morning after the storm felt different. The air between Kevin and me had shifted from a jagged, unspoken tension to something smoother, like silk over raw skin. We had let the past out of its cage, and though I told myself last night was a one-time lapse, the way he looked at me over the breakfast table made my stomach do a slow, heavy roll.
"Get dressed," he said, his voice a calm command. "We’re going out."
"I don't really need anything, Kevin. I can still manage with the clothes I brought."
He set his coffee cup down with a deliberate click. "Manage is not a word a member of my family ever has to use, Lyra. You’re carrying a legacy. You’ll look the part."
The way he said *my family* made my breath hitch. He wasn't talking about Elliot. He was talking about him and m
