Chapter 66: THE TEST OF FATE

Lyra’s POV

It's funny how the past can appear when you least expect it to.

As I stood outside the former family mansion, memories hit me like waves hitting stone, even though I felt like I had buried enough of it to breathe again. Heart thumping, knuckles white, my fingers clenched tightly around my purse's leather strap.

Despite my desire, I muttered, "I don't have to go in there alone."

From behind me, Damian firmly replied, "You're not alone."

Warm and steady, his hand reached for mine. Something inside of me froze when our fingers locked. He had supported me through truth, betrayal, and suffering. Even so, this particular moment felt more significant than the rest.

"Lyra, this is your decision. But I'm with you no matter what occurs inside.

God, how could he sound so composed when I was shaking all over?

I nodded and drew a trembling breath. "Let's finish this up."

\---

The house remained the same. The paint is chipping. The front step was broken. The smell of despair persisted in the atmosphere. This is where my father previously established his empire. And used the same hands to ruin everything.

In the study, John Ashford was waiting. His skin was thinner and paler than I remembered, and his shoulders were slouched today. However, the hunger was still present in his eyes. The same icy feeling. He gave Damian a fleeting glance before focusing on me.

"You arrived," he remarked. No grin. No warmth. Just a man who's accustomed to getting his way.

I said, "I didn't come for you." "I came to get answers."

"Responses?" He chuckled bitterly. "After all this time?"

"To pay off your debts, you sold me. Like a pawn on a chessboard, you threw me into Damian's realm. Don't act like it's about time.

I trembled when I spoke. It did, and I detested it. I detested him more, though.

"Stop playing the victim," he yelled. "This small life that you imagined was never meant for you."

"And you decided on what that ought to be?" I retaliated by taking a step closer. "Your daughter was sold." You gave me the impression that love was unimportant. That I was unimportant.

He started to say something, but I stopped him.

"What happened cannot be changed. Dad, I trusted you. I made an effort to keep this family safe despite everything.

Damian moved next to me, quiet yet attentive. I felt rooted in his presence. I was strengthened by his affection.

John turned his back and murmured, "I was trying to fix things." "I lost everything." "If I could get back in, if I could—" I thought.

"By way of me?" My voice cracked. "You treated me like money. Not your cash. Not your home. Me.

At last, he turned to face me. Glanced closely.

For a moment, I saw remorse.

However, it was insufficient.

He said, "You have no idea what it's like to lose everything."

"Yes," I said. "Because you ensured that I did."

\---

It wasn't until Damian wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb that I realized I was weeping. Gently but firmly, he drew me away from my father.

Damian remarked in a steely voice, "That's enough." "She shouldn't have to stand here and weep in front of you,"

Wolfe, be careful,” John sneered. "Everything in this world has a cost, even if you feel like you've won."

Damian moved in closer. "And I made my payment."

My breath caught. Those were not merely business-related remarks. They were about me. About us.

He had made the payment.

With his heart. His trade secrets. His suffering.

\---

Without saying another word, we exited the house. My chest felt oddly lighter, even though the outside air felt colder now.

There was silence between us back in the car. Thick, but not uncomfortable. Packed with stuff we hadn't yet discussed.

I turned to him at last. "I'm grateful. For being present.

He turned to see. "You didn't need to confront him at all."

Still. You remained.

He twitched his jaw as if he had more to say. Then he simply nodded.

It was a peaceful ride back to the penthouse. It started to rain, softly at first, then more heavily.

The storm had taken hold by the time we arrived home.

\---

Kicking off my heels and letting go of the day's stress, I entered the cozy apartment. Damian trailed after, untying his necktie while maintaining eye contact with me.

Gently, he said, "Lyra." Back there, you were amazing. Courageous.

"I didn't feel courageous."

"You were." He took a step toward her. "You are still."

There was a change in his eyes. He constantly carried that guarded wall, and now it was falling once more.

I said, "I was afraid." "Not only today. For a very long time.

He remained silent. Simply wait.

"What you were frightened me. Of what *we* were. I'm afraid I've changed into someone I'm not.

"And now?"

I felt seen when I looked into his storm-blue eyes, which had once frightened me.

"I'm afraid of what will happen if I lose you now."

\---

He took two steps across the room between us and drew me into his embrace.

Before I could say another word, his lips met mine.

It wasn't as difficult or pressing as it had been. It was soft. deep. A kiss that conveyed assurances, regrets, and silent desperation.

His hands clung to my waist as if he thought I might slink away.

I tugged him in closer as my fingers got caught in his shirt.

He pressed his lips to me and said, "I love you."

I went cold.

Then returned the whisper, "I also love you."

\---

Clothes dropped like memories of the past. The previous fire flared up again, but this time it was fueled by something more. Beyond lust. More than rage.

It was love.

Messy, unvarnished, and authentic.

With each kiss, he made a silent promise as he moved down my neck.

Every part of me needed him, and my body melted under him. I'm craving him. He went carefully, enjoying each moment, each sigh, each name that was spoken.

And I knew when we finally fell together, our hearts beating in unison, skin on flesh.

I was broken by this man. I was burned.

He had rebuilt me, though. Loved me.

I had allowed him to do so.

\---

His arm was wrapped over me as I lay tangled under the blankets hours later. I ought to have felt secure. Complete.

However, something bothered me.

"Damian?" In the dark, I murmured.

Beside me, he stirred. "Well?"

Something that my father stated. Before our departure.

"What?"

"Everything has a price," he remarked.