chapter two The Face That Never Faded
2484 Words
Grandmother Edith did not wait for a reply from Kellan. She simply turned and gestured for Lyra to follow her inside the mansion.
Lyra was inside. The air in the foyer was heavier than the air in her old apartment, thick with power and cold judgment. Kellan stalked in behind her, a dark shadow ensuring she knew her place.
She was led into a vast, silent room. The room was dominated by three figures: Kellan (who stood silently by the fireplace, radiating contempt), a formidable old man—the Grandfather, Arthur Pierce—who watched Lyra with chilling disapproval, and another man sitting by a window.
That man. He was older, his face etched with fatigue and deep regret, but he had Lyra’s blue eyes. Richard Pierce. Her father.
Lyra’s legs froze. This was the moment she had endured a decade of nightmares for.
"Richard," the Grandmother said softly. "Look at her."
Her father didn't move. He kept his gaze fixed on the garden outside, stubbornly refusing to meet her eyes.
Lyra found her voice, a desperate, raw sound. "Dad?"
Richard flinched, but still did not look at Lyra. "No, I am not your father. That’s an old lie of your mother's. As I said, I paid my debt to your mother years ago. Everything is finished."
Tears streamed down Lyra’s face, but she faced him. "You lie! You are my dad! My blood runs in my veins!" She pleaded, stepping toward her rigid dad "I can’t bear living with her anymore. And if you throw me out into the street, I will go to the media! I will demand my rights in every newspaper until your scandal is exposed! You must protect me!"
At that moment, Grandfather Arthur Pierce laughed a deadly cold laugh, his voice slicing the silence like a whip. "Threatening us? Enough acting, girl! You are a w***e exactly like your mother! We never wanted you! But we will not let you destroy the Pierce name!"
Lyra screamed at him, ignoring the inferno in Kellan's eyes. "I am not! I am not to blame for this filthy past! You must protect me!"
Grandmother Edith Pierce advanced calmly and placed her warm hand on Lyra’s trembling shoulder. "Calm yourself, my dear. I am truly sorry for what you have been through." Then she looked coolly at her son. "Richard, regardless of what you say, her blood runs in your veins. That means Carla’s shame is now ours, whether she stays or leaves."
Arthur cut in with fierce authority: "Stay here? I will not give her a single cent, and she will never see this mansion as her home! A new w***e in the family is unbearable!"
Edith looked firmly at her husband. "She must stay with us. We cannot afford scandals in front of the media. Sophia, Richard's daughter, will be returning soon from abroad to join the family business. She must not return to find scandals staining the Pierce name in every newspaper. We must protect our reputation and keep her under our control here. She is my responsibility now."
Arthur looked at Lyra, then at Kellan, and finally sighed in controlled fury. "Very well. She may stay. But let my rules be clear: Ask for nothing, do not speak with Richard, and do not forget your origin. And you, Kellan... You are responsible for her. I want no trouble."
______
Lyra moved with Kellan. His intense gaze constantly followed her. Since childhood, he had heard the entire story of the sin his uncle committed when he was young, the night girl he met, and their illicit relationship which resulted in a pregnancy. The grandfather intervened, and Carla took a large sum of money to disappear and never appear again. The family thought that mistake had died and was buried, but here it was, years later, appearing once more.
Kellan observed her intensely as they moved together: her eyes, her hair—everything about her was strikingly beautiful. There was something stirring within him that made him unable to take his eyes off her.
Finally, Kellan spoke, stopping before the isolated West Wing.
"You will live here. In the morning, you will come to the main house. I do not want any problems. Do not forget, you are responsible to me now." His voice dropped into a warning. "If you think of calling the media, or causing any scandal, all this will only lead you to many disasters. Do you understand?"
Lyra looked at him, her heart pounding violently, and nodded silently.
Lyra continued toward the wing, feeling like a filthy artifact that had been dragged into a luxury museum. The family thought that mistake was over and buried, but it seemed it had returned now and strongly so, still present and unable to be buried.
Her phone suddenly rang. She took it out and looked at it, seeing her mother's number. She ignored the call, but her mother wouldn't stop. The phone kept ringing repeatedly, an annoying sound shattering the mansion's imposing silence.
She couldn't take it anymore. She answered, screaming with suppressed rage: "Leave me alone! Forget me! I am not coming back to you again! I will immigrate! I will go to a place where you cannot reach me!"
Lyra screamed those words, then shoved the phone hard and threw it onto the marble floor, where it shattered into small pieces. She was breathing heavily, her heart pounding violently. She hadn't noticed Kellan was still standing nearby, watching the entire scene.
Kellan felt a strange pity for Lyra. It seemed she truly suffered with her mother. Poor thing, he thought, she paid the price for a sin she didn't commit.
In that moment, Kellan moved. His voice, devoid of any exaggerated sympathy yet unexpectedly calm, pierced through Lyra’s state of panic.
"Are you done with your tantrum?" he asked, approaching quietly. He glanced at the debris of Lyra’s phone on the floor without interest. "I'll send you a new phone. The rules were just stated, Lyra Bell. I am now your overseer and your guard. Is that clear?"
Lyra looked at him defiantly, cursing herself for showing her weakness in front of him. His icy eyes held nothing but authority and contempt. She nodded her head with great difficulty.
Kellan signaled to the guard. "Take her inside the wing. And ensure no one bothers her. Especially Richard."
Kellan turned and left without another word, leaving Lyra feeling utterly crushed by the weight of his power and his hatred.
The guard led Lyra to the back wing. The room was luxurious and vast, yet it felt like a gilded cage. She couldn't focus on its comfort; all she could think about was that she was now the captive of Kellan Pierce.
_______
Lyra tried to sleep, but the night brought the old shadows with it. The moment she closed her eyes, the screaming voice that tears the silence returned: "Get away from me! What do you want?" The feeling of those rough hands returned, and the moment she felt like a fragile doll at the mercy of a strong man.
She woke up suddenly, shaking, her body drenched in sweat. She tried to calm herself, but the thought of being alone in this huge, frightening wing, where anyone could reach her, made her leap out of bed. The fear of repeating the past was stronger than any comfort the mansion could offer.
Lyra couldn't stay within the four walls. She crept out of the room and found a glass door leading to a small balcony overlooking the back garden. The cold air was her only solace.
She started pacing back and forth on the balcony until she finally collapsed from exhaustion. She dragged herself into a dark corner of the terrace and rested her head on her knees. The cold seeped into her bones, but she couldn't return to the room. That is how sleep overtook her, shivering from both cold and fear.
Dawn was beginning to creep shyly when Kellan’s harsh voice pronounced Lyra’s name: "Lyra Bell?"
Lyra opened her eyes with difficulty. Kellan was standing over her, in his formal, elegant suit. Her face was pale, and her entire body was trembling involuntarily under the thin layer of her nightclothes.
"What are you doing here?" Kellan demanded sharply, noticing her shivering. "Why are you sleeping out in the cold?"
She tried to speak, but her teeth were chattering. She felt as though the cold had penetrated her bones. She tried to get up, but the cold rendered her powerless to move.
He observed her intensely as she shivered from the cold. He felt an utterly unwelcome stirring within him, something that disrupted his usual coldness towards this girl who had suddenly invaded their lives, carrying the shame of the past. He saw her fragile weakness and couldn't explain this hidden pull towards her.
He sighed impatiently, burying that rare moment of empathy.
"This is foolishness," he said in a rough voice. He stepped closer, then pulled off his heavy black formal jacket.
"Wear this. You will die of cold. Get up."
He threw the jacket over Lyra with an almost intentional harshness, but its sudden weight and warmth were a shock. She looked at him in disbelief.
"Now," he commanded sharply, "get back inside and rest before you give me a headache on the very first day."
Lyra returned to the wing wearing Kellan’s jacket. She touched the jacket with her hands and inhaled the scent. It was a beautiful, strong scent.
Lyra smiled, remembering how he threw the jacket on her. Even though his action was not tender, she felt a sense of care and that someone was afraid for her—a new feeling she had never known. She continued to think about him, specifically his mysterious glances, until she was overcome by sleep while feeling the warmth.
_______
In the morning, Lyra woke up and opened her eyes to find Kellan standing over her. Her body trembled slightly, and she sat up, asking cautiously:
"How long have you been here?!"
Kellan observed her features intently and stated in a quiet, suspicious tone:
"You talk too much in your sleep. You scream and you cry. What visits you in your dreams that leaves you in this state?"
It was clear that Kellan had been watching her for a long time as she slept.
Lyra felt his gentle fingertips as he wiped away a tear that had fallen on her cheek; it seemed the tear had been captive in her eyes even as she slept. She felt a sudden coldness rush through her body from his touch. Lyra quietly moved away from him and pleaded faintly:
"Please, I don't want to sleep in this quiet wing. Please."
Kellan sighed, looking annoyed by the situation, then said:
"Fine. You will sleep in the room next to mine, within the main house, and this will be under my personal responsibility to my grandfather. But believe me, if you cause me any problems, your punishment will be much greater than those nightmares you see."
_______
Kellan was seated opposite his uncle Richard in the latter's office. The atmosphere was charged, and Richard spoke in a quiet voice heavy with sadness.
"Take good care of my daughter, Kellan," Richard said, his voice barely audible. "It is her good fortune that my father made you the one to attend to her."
Kellan answered him with calm severity: "Don't worry, Uncle. Everything is under control."
Richard smiled despite himself, his eyes gleaming with regret and deep sorrow: "Poor girl... she came into this world, and no one accepts her in it, and no one wants her."
Kellan looked directly at him, offering quietly: "Do you want me to bring her to you? To talk with her and ease her burden?"
Richard answered with deep remorse, his gaze fixed on a distant point: "I cannot. You know my father's strict instructions, and also... I cannot face her and look into her eyes. I cannot, Kellan."
It was clear that Richard was suffering greatly because of the presence of the daughter he had abandoned.
Richard looked at the papers stacked before him and said in a despairing voice: "Please, don't be harsh on her. Grant her freedom, even if only a little. Let her do what she wishes within reason, and you know my father cannot be angry with you."
Kellan nodded in understanding. His emotions were a mix of disdain for his uncle’s cowardice and sympathy for the girl. He said with a firm tone: "Don't worry. I am doing that already. She is not to blame for the past."
Kellan remained seated for a while longer, watching his weak uncle and contemplating the words he had just heard: Take good care of my daughter. He knew that, despite the family's hostility, he had now become the sole protector of Richard's daughter.
________
A few days passed following the conversation between Kellan and Richard. Lyra began to utilize her new freedom, carefully avoiding the areas where the main family members usually gathered.
One evening, Lyra was invited to sit with Grandmother Edith in the main family drawing-room, at Edith’s request. Lyra wore a new dress and felt like an alien artifact in this luxurious setting.
Suddenly, the drawing-room door burst open, and Kellan entered, but he was not alone. fe was accompanied by a man who closely resembled him, but carried more relaxed features and a wide smile.
"Welcome back, Evan," Edith said joyfully.
Kellan introduced Lyra:
"Lyra Bell, this is my older brother, Evan Pierce. He just returned from his trip abroad."
Evan raised his head towards Lyra, and his smile vanished when he looked at her. As for Lyra, the blood froze in her veins.
Evan.
His face was never clear in her nightmares, but those eyes... those hazel eyes filled with cruel indifference—the same eyes she saw as a small child on the night she tried to run away.
It is him!
Lyra remembered the details of the rough hand, the terror she felt, and above all, the chilling coldness in his gaze. Evan Pierce, Kellan's older brother, was the very young man who assaulted her in her childhood.
Lyra lost control of her body. A muffled scream choked in her throat, the lights around her faded, and she collapsed, losing consciousness.
Kellan rushed toward her, while Evan watched her with a strange, chilling indifference.
إ
- Writer
