IN DEVIL'S GRIP

Her hands were tight on the steering wheel, her blue eyes fixed on the empty highway, but her mind was stuck in a nightmare a decade old. ​A luxurious apartment. The lighting was dimmed. Lyra was ten. ​She sat glued to the sofa beside her mother, Carla Bell. Across from them sat a man, Vincent, in his mid-twenties. His eyes, fixed on Lyra, were frightening, and she clutched her mother in fear. ​Her mother shifted away. "I forgot my phone in the car. I’ll go get it. Wait for me here, Lyra." ​Lyra held on to her, begging, "I’ll come with you." ​Carla glared, her voice sharp. "Just wait. I will be right back." ​Carla left. ​Lyra sat in frightened silence. She felt the man settle beside her. "Don't be afraid. Your mother will be back," he said. ​Lyra didn't answer. Then, she felt his hand brush her face and run through her hair. The touch made her recoil, but he moved closer, trapping her movements with his arms. ​"Lyra," he said, his voice dropping low, "Don't make me tired so you don't suffer with me." ​"Get away from me! What do you want?" Lyra screamed, struggling desperately to break free, but his grip was too strong. He lifted her roughly, carried her into the bedroom, and locked the door with a heavy click. ​Her heart hammered so hard it felt like her ribs would break. How could her mother leave her? How? ​He approached her forcefully, pinning her down. He kept kissing her violently while she screamed beneath him. Then he tore her clothes, exposing her bare body. Lyra tried to shield herself with her hands, but the man was faster; he tied her hands. He then stripped off his own clothes and trousers and moved closer. Lyra screamed with a sound that shook the entire apartment. ​_________ ​The present rushed in. Her foot slammed on the brake as she swerved the car violently to avoid hitting a person. ​She slammed the gearshift into Park. The sudden stop jarred her body. She rested her head on the steering wheel, tears streaming from her eyes. A single moment of distraction, and that brutal memory, a decade old, had nearly cost her everything. The years passed, but that cruel memory never stopped chasing her. ​Lyra checked her phone. The address, a sharp, bold text message, seemed to mock the poverty of her own life. She wiped the tears away roughly. She had to get to her father. She wouldn’t allow that creature who called herself her mother to ruin her life again. But how would he react? Would he accept her? She was his daughter. Wasn't it punishment enough that she’d been trapped with her mother all these years? ​She pulled the car out of the dirt path and drove toward the written address. The car shuddered to a stop before a massive, imposing gate. The Pierce Family Mansion. The powerful billionaire dynasty throughout the country. ​My God. She was the daughter of the biggest billionaire family, yet she’d been living in a wretched slum apartment with her mother—an apartment reeking of cheap liquor, filled with gambling and the constant procession of men. How had her mother concealed this truth from her? If she hadn't dug for the truth herself, she’d still think she was just Lyra Bell, and not the daughter of Richard Pierce. ​Her legs felt heavy as she stepped out of the car, moving slowly, consumed by tension. Two security guards immediately blocked her path. ​"Where are you going?" one of them demanded. ​She forced a nervous smile. "I need to meet Mr. Richard Pierce." ​The security guard announced: "I apologize, Miss, but Mr. Richard has an important family meeting at the mansion today, and all visits are forbidden." ​Lyra’s heart sank, but she pushed the name she thought was her key. "Excuse me, but I must meet him today. I can't leave without seeing him. Tell him I am Lyra, the daughter of Mrs. Carla Bell, and believe me, he will ask you to let me in immediately. I know it." ​The guard’s expression instantly changed, and scorn flashed in his eyes. He stated coldly, "The daughter of Mrs. Carla Bell? That name is precisely why you are banned from entering the mansion, Miss. The Pierce family does not welcome anyone from that forgotten past. Please leave quietly now." ​Lyra felt panic creeping in, but anger took over. She raised her voice slightly, feeling helpless: "You don't understand! I'm not asking for money! I am his daughter! My entire life depends on meeting him, please let me in!" ​___________ ​At that moment, a luxurious black car parked behind Lyra's old car. A man emerged, his sheer presence filling the void. He wore a carefully tailored dark suit, his eyes sharp as a blade, carrying an aura of absolute anger and coldness. It was Kellan Pierce. ​Kellan looked at Lyra with intense disdain, then looked at the security guard who immediately tensed up. ​"What is going on here?" Kellan asked, his voice deep and dangerous. "Who allowed this pitiable spectacle at the family gate?" ​The guard quickly replied, his voice shaking: "Sir, she claims she is Lyra... the daughter of Carla Bell." ​Kellan’s face hardened, and his anger turned to lethal coldness. "And you have the audacity to shout that name here? The name of the woman who disgraced this family?" He spat Lyra's name like a curse. "We don't erase the past, Lyra Bell, we bury it. Deeply." ​Lyra swayed, his words hitting harder than any physical blow. "My mother is none of your business! My father is alive! Where is Richard Pierce? He must see me!" ​Kellan cut her off with lethal coldness, his voice whispering the bitter truth. "Your father is here, yes. But he refused to see you the moment he heard your mother's name. Don't you understand? He doesn't want to see anything that reminds him of the shame that woman brought upon him. Your return only reminds him of his moment of foolish weakness." ​Lyra’s face drained of color. He wasn't dead. He was rejecting her. The rejection was crueler than death. ​Lyra looked at the massive mansion, then at Kellan, feeling betrayed by the whole world. "All this... all these years!" she cried out, the tears finally overcoming her. "Everyone knows this story... except me! How did you all lie to me my whole life?" ​"You're lying!" Lyra cried out. "He wouldn't do that!" ​Kellan looked at the guard with boredom and gestured with his hand: "Get this problem out of here." ​In that moment, a calm, powerful voice cut through the tension. ​" She will not be leaving." ​Grandmother Edith Pierce appeared on the front step, an elegant, imposing woman with warm eyes, standing on the threshold of the mansion and looking at Lyra with a mixture of sadness and recognition.