Lyra's POV
My breath hitched.
I stepped out of the bathroom to go back into the party.
And then—
Standing beside Marcello—arm looped casually through his—was her.
The woman from the mirror.
The ghost, the enigma, the whisper in the air that had vanished like fog on glass. Only she wasn’t vanishing now. She was right here. Tangible. Alive. Wearing a gown that shimmered like starlight and a smile far too polite to be real.
Marcello’s gaze locked on mine the moment I froze. His brows drew together, concerned flickering beneath his polished composure. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My mouth felt like it was full of sand.
“Lyra,” he said, gently tugging me closer. “This is Rebekah. She’s an old family friend.”
Old didn’t even begin to cover it.
Rebekah extended a graceful hand, her expr
