Agnes refused to let her beloved granddaughter wear the gown Lucas Arden had once prepared, fearing the fabric carried ill luck.
That very afternoon, as if by fate, the renowned designer arrived at the Hale Estate with a brand-new creation that hadn't debuted yet.
Lyra stood in the center of the room, the gown hugging her slender frame with effortless grace. Her honey-blonde hair was swept up into an elegant style, a few soft curls falling gently around her face.
She turned toward the door when the expected knock came and Dr. Alexander Ashford entered the room, a small boy clinging slightly to his side.
"Papa," Lyra called softly. He hugged her gently, careful not to wrinkle her gown, and Lyra pressed a small kiss to his cheek.
"You take after Avelina so much," Alexander murmured, dabbing at his tears, remembering his late wife.
He had heard the news, yet Lyra stood so strong after all she had endured only yesterday. Stronger than she had been years ago, when the news of Avelina's passing had hit her like a storm and left her confined to bed for weeks.
"Sweetheart," Alex said softly, his voice full of tenderness. "I understand that you want to protect our family, and how deeply you honor your grandfather's wishes…" He gazed at her, his hands gently cupping her face with warmth.
"Believe me, whatever your answer is… I'll always stand by you." Alex meant every word. If she chose to refuse the marriage at the altar, he would honor her decision. He never wanted her to feel trapped in a union she didn't desire.
Lyra was quietly moved by her father's heartfelt words. She nodded, smiling gently, careful not to speak anything that might weigh on his mind.
Her gaze fell on a small boy, his arms crossed and a scowl tugging at his face. The thought of his sister being taken away clearly didn't sit well with him.
Lyra leaned down, smoothing a golden stray lock of Dominic's hair.
"Hey, Nick," she said softly.
Dominic Ashford didn't reply. His small hands remained clenched at his sides, still reluctant to let go of his protective grip on his sister. The sight made Lyra chuckle softly.
"It's time," Alex said softly, offering his hand to his daughter.
Lyra placed her hand in his, and together they stepped onto the aisle, outwardly poised yet inwardly trembling.
The only guests allowed to enter Hale Estate that day were close friends and family.
Lyra cast a quick glance at her guests and saw Nora among them, smiling with mix of emotions playing across her face as she dabbed at her tears. But there was no sign of Edris. She was sure she had sent him the latest invitation.
Her gaze drifted to the groom's side. Most of the faces were unfamiliar, except for Damian, whom she had met that morning, and Kane—the man brave enough to stop the attacker yesterday.
They stood steady—Damian calm, Kane offering her a cheerful smile when he caught her gaze. Lyra managed a small nod before dragging her eyes forward. As she reached halfway down the aisle, reality began to sink in—the groom stood at the altar, waiting for her.
She could hear the ba-dump of her heartbeat, loud and uneven as her nerves rose a notch. Lyra clutched her father's arm trying to steady herself.
"Lyra," Alex called softly, barely above a whisper. "You all right?"
Lyra nodded. "Just a little nervous."
"It's okay. I'm here." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he guided her toward the groom.
One final time, Lyra met her father's eyes as the groom reached for her hand and led her away.
Rowan's hand closed around hers, immediately felt it tremble. His brow furrowed.
"Five minutes," he murmured to the officiant beside him. "I just need to help the bride steady herself."
The officiant nodded and stepped aside, giving them a small pocket of privacy. But his gesture was quickly misread, murmurs stirring among the guests.
Monica exchanged a look with her husband. "What's he up to?" she whispered.
"It's okay. I'll go check," Albert replied.
He stepped to the side of the altar and called, "Rowan? What's happening?"
Rowan looked back at his father, lifting a hand in a small, measured gesture. "Just five minutes," he said evenly. "Everything will be fine."
Albert returned to Monica's side, shrugging slightly at her. This youngest son of them had a knack for keeping them on edge.
They both glanced at Agnes, who had remained calm and composed from the beginning, though neither of them noticed the way her hand was clenched tightly around her dress.
"Just breathe with me." He held her hand firmly and whispered, "Collect yourself, just breathe slowly."
Lyra closed her eyes and inhaled shakily, letting the warmth of his hand ground her until the flutter in her chest slowly eased.
"I've got you," he murmured.
For a few heartbeats, she steadied herself, her breathing finally evening out.
"Thank you, sir," she said quietly.
Rowan arched a brow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Is that what you're calling your husband?"
Oh! Lyra realized her mistake, still used to the way she'd addressed him the day before.
Her gaze flicked up to meet his. "Rowan," she corrected softly.
"Good." He cast a quick glance at his watch. "We've got two more minutes."
He drew a slow breath, his voice dropping lower. "Do you really want to go through with this?" he asked.
Lyra was careful with her words, afraid of saying something she might regret. So instead of answering right away, she asked, "Do you mean… am I ready for this marriage?"
She searched his face, and he gave a small nod. "Yes. Just tell me the truth."
"Yes…" she murmured, giving a tiny nod, but it didn't seem to satisfy him.
"If so," he said quietly, "I hope you're not marrying me just because someone told you to."
He paused, studying her expression, searching for a trace of what she truly felt before continuing.
"To me, a wife is someone I share my life with—someone who walks beside me, supports my dreams as I support hers, and helps me build a home we can both belong to. I'm not the kind of man who plays at being in a contract marriage or lives like strangers. Understood?"
Lyra was taken aback. She had never imagined he would say something so sincere—someone who thought exactly the same way she did. Never before had Lucas spoken to her like that. Did he just read her mind?
After all, she knew there was no escaping this marriage. She was doing it for the sake of her grandmother's health, for her grandfather's last wish, and to save her family from humiliation.
But the truth was, the man standing before her was her savior—the one who had left such a deep impression on her. Somehow, she felt safe with a man like him. Maybe… hopefully.
Still, one thing bothered her—the woman named Yvette. Who was she? There was no time to ask now. But if he ever dared to cheat on her, she would leave him, just as she'd done before, to Lucas.
So her answer was. "I understand," she said softly. "And I don't take this lightly. I'll do my part too."
That make he smiled warmly at her, his eyes shining. Lyra's heart skipped, but she kept her expression calm.
"Ahem! Ahem!" came a deliberate cough from behind them.
Both of them turned their heads, only to see Monica standing behind them, her arms crossed. Albert stood just behind her with his hands on his hips, while Alex beside him wore a puzzled expression.
Lyra quickly turned her head back, her face growing even redder, like a ripe apple. She had completely forgotten that the guests were watching them from their seats.
"Were you making her cry, you rascal?" Monica said in a low voice, trying to hide her anger in front of the guests.
"No!" he said quickly, worried his mother would start nagging him.
"Shall we begin, then?" Albert turned and waved to the officiant to start the ceremony.