Lyra slipped her hand into Rowan's, her thoughts still caught on Owen's parting threat. Seeing the worry etched on her face, Rowan gently rubbed her brow to ease her frown and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Let's get you to the reception," he said, slowly guide her forward.
Lyra peered through the crowd, trying to spot her grandmother. She tugged on the edge of Rowan's sleeve. "Have you seen Grandma?"
"No, I haven't seen her either," Rowan said, stretching his neck to scan the gathering. "I'll have Damian check on her."
"It's okay," Lyra said quickly, not wanting to trouble Damian. "She might have just stepped away to rest."
Monica, walking nearby, smiled gently and gave Lyra a small hug.
This was Lyra's first time meeting her mother-in-law. She looked so young despite her age that Lyra almost mistook her for Rowan's sister.
Her black hair shone softly under the garden lights, and she wore a simple yet elegant gown that suited the evening perfectly.
"Let's get you to your table," Monica said. Her friendly manner and warm, motherly presence immediately putting Lyra at ease.
At the head of the reception area, a small table was set for the newlyweds, decorated with fresh flowers and delicate lights. Rowan pulled out Lyra's chair and gestured for her to sit.
Guests settled at their own tables, laughter and clinking glasses slowly filling the air. The tension from earlier began to ease, replaced by the warm rhythm of celebration.
Rowan's eyes lingered on his wife, who nibbled at her food without much attention, staring off toward the softly lit garden. "Is the food not to your taste?" he asked.
"Oh, no. The food's fine." She quickly took a bite.
Rowan leaned forward. "I think you're tired. It's time you got some rest."
"Yeah… a bit tired," Lyra admitted, still feeling drained and low on energy after everything that had happened.
After all, once this night was over, she'd have to go back to Rowan's house and live there.
Just looking at his broad shoulders and strong hands made her suddenly aware of what sharing a house with him really meant. She probably wouldn't get much sleep tonight.
Her gaze drifted to Rowan's throat, catching the slight movement of his Adam's apple as he finished his drink. Without realizing it, warmth crept up her cheeks at the thought.
Rowan noticed her stare. "Are you feeling unwell? Your cheeks are red."
"Ah—no," Lyra said quickly, turning her face away before changing the subject.
"Can I see Grandma for a moment?"
"Let's go. I'll come with you," Rowan said, already rising to his feet. He stepped around the table, offering his hand while his other rested lightly at her back as they walked toward the house.
They were halfway to the house when one of the maids hurried toward them, slightly out of breath.
"Mr. Pierce," she said, lowering her voice politely. "Madam Agnes asked to see you right away. She said it's important."
Rowan's brows lifted slightly. "All right. We were just on our way to her, actually."
The maid hesitated before adding, "Also… Miss Lyra, your brother is by the fountain. He's been crying for a while."
Lyra's heart tightened. "Nick?" she murmured. "He didn't seem happy since the wedding began…"
Rowan turned to her immediately. "Come on, let's check on your brother first, okay? We'll go see your grandmother after that."
But the maid shook her head quickly. "Madam said it really can't wait, sir."
Lyra forced a small smile, though worry flickered in her eyes. "It's fine. Go see her first. I'll talk to Nick and come up afterward."
Rowan studied her for a moment, then nodded. "All right. Don't stay out too long."
"I won't," Lyra promised, already walking toward the fountain. Rowan quietly told the maid to accompany his wife.
The fountain was some distance from the main building, just before the gate. Lyra had to walk quite a way, guided by the maid, before she finally saw Dominic sitting on a stone bench facing away, his shoulders shaking as he cried.
"Nick?" Lyra called softly. But he didn't turn.
She stepped closer. "Why are you crying out here all alone?"
Dominic's sobs choked out. He pressed a crumpled slip of paper into Lyra's palm.
"What is it?" she asked. She gasped. The note's red, jagged handwriting felt like a shout in the room with a single command.
do as I say or he dies.
A sharp click broke the night's silence, the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
Lyra froze. Something cold pressed against Dominic's head.
His crying grew harder. "I'm sorry!" he sobbed, terrified.