MY CEO REGRETS: CHASING HIS HEIRESS WIFE.

~ LYRA ~

"I'll be right there," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Michael stepped closer, searching my eyes. "Are you okay? Lyra, we can go home. We can leave right now."

I shook my head, my jaw tightening. "No. I'm fine. Just... give me a moment. I'll meet you inside."

He hesitated, his brotherly instinct clearly warring with my command, but finally, he nodded. "Alright. I'll be by the main table."

The second he disappeared through the heavy oak doors, I slumped against the cold stone railing, taking a jagged, deep breath. The night air was crisp, but it couldn't chill the heat rising in my chest.

He couldn't see me like this.

No.

I refused to give Lucian the satisfaction of knowing he still occupied a single inch of my heart. I wouldn't let him see the cracks. I stood tall, smoothing the silk of my dress over my hips and checking my reflection in the dark glass of the window. I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, wiped the phantom sting from my eyes, and donned my armor: a cold, perfect smile.

I pushed the doors open.

The sudden roar of conversation and the swell of the orchestra hit me, but I didn't flinch. As I walked toward Michael, the room seemed to pivot on its axis. The lighting caught the shimmer of my gown, and the whispers began low, frantic, and curious.

I felt it before I saw it. A heavy, familiar weight on the side of my face. I glanced toward the stage.

There he was. LUCIAN.

His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unreadable. He tilted his head slightly, a gesture so familiar it made my heart betray me with a sudden, sickening flutter. For one heartbeat, I was that girl in the hospital again.

Then, I remembered the empty cradle. I remembered the silence of a house that was no longer mine.

I tore my eyes away, my expression turning to stone. I didn't just ignore him; I erased him and made sure to put a smile on my face.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome. The annual business gala is once again upon us, and what better way to spend the evening than to get acquainted with other businessmen and women.

I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming, and I hope you have a wonderful evening. Now, without further ado, let's get this party started."

The host's voice faded into the background as the orchestra shifted into a slow, haunting melody. It was time for the first dance.

I turned to Michael, offering a small, forced smile. "May I have this dance?"

"Always," he replied softly. We moved to the center of the room, blending into the sea of swaying couples. "You look breathtaking tonight, Lyra. Everyone is looking at you."

I knew what he was doing, trying to anchor me, trying to pull my mind away from the man watching us from the stage.

"You're not too bad yourself, baby brother," I teased, my voice trembling only slightly.

Michael's brow furrowed in that familiar, annoyed way.

"Stop calling me that. I'm thirty, not ten."

I let out a tiny, genuine breath of a laugh. "Okay, okay. But seriously... Thank you, Mike. I needed that."

"Anytime," he whispered.

But the moment of peace was short-lived. A shadow fell over us, cold and imposing. Before I could even look up, a voice vibrated through the air, a voice that had once been my lullaby and was now my haunting. Six years, and it still struck a chord deep in my marrow.

"May I cut in?"

My heart didn't just flutter; it hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. But beneath the shock, a dark, familiar rage began to boil.

"Lyra?" Michael's voice was a warning, his grip on my hand tightening.

"It's okay," I said, my eyes fixed on the floor. "You can go, Mike."

Michael hesitated, glaring at the intruder, but eventually stepped back and disappeared into the crowd.

Suddenly, a warm, heavy hand slid around my waist, pulling me flush against a chest I used to know by heart. His other hand took mine, his fingers calloused and firm. We began to move, our bodies forced into a cruel mimicry of intimacy.

I finally lifted my gaze. His eyes were right there dark, piercing, and entirely too calm.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed, the words dripping with acid.

"Dancing," Lucian replied, his voice a low rumble.

"Let me go. Now."

"Lyra. Just shut up and dance."

My jaw clenched so hard it ached. "Why are you even here? This isn't your world, Lucian."

He chuckled, a dark, mocking sound. "It's a business gala. Anyone with the right invitation and the right price can attend."

"I'm sure your little girlfriend wouldn't appreciate you holding another woman this close, would she?"

"Wife," he corrected, his eyes narrowing. "She is my wife. We are married."

I felt the ghost of a sting in my chest, but I didn't let a single crack show on my face. I gave him a smile that was sharp enough to draw blood.

"How unfortunate for the both of you. Congratulations on the nuptials. May your life together be every bit as miserable as you deserve."

The smugness vanished from his face, replaced by a flash of raw anger.

"Let go of me, Lucian," I commanded.

"You're still so fucking beautiful," he whispered, as if he hadn't heard me. His hand on my waist tightened, pulling me closer until I could smell the expensive bourbon on his breath.

I scoffed, a sound of pure disgust. "What do you want?"

"To see you. To hear your voice. To see if you've actually managed to survive without me."

"You lost the right to care about my survival a long time ago, Mr. White."

"You've changed," he spat, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "If anything, I should be the angry one. You cheated on me with half the city. You whored yourself out,"

The world tilted. I balled my hand into a fist, clutching the lapel of his expensive suit jacket so hard my knuckles turned white. I leaned in, my voice a lethal whisper that only he could hear.

"Let go of me right now, or I swear to God, I will cause a scene that will ruin whatever pathetic reputation you have left."

"Lyra, calm down,"

"I will scream," I promised, my eyes burning into his. "I will let every person in this room know exactly what kind of man you are, a murder. Let. Me. Go. Now."

He saw it then, the fact that I wasn't bluffing. He saw the woman who had nothing left to lose. Slowly, he released his hold.

I stepped back, the space between us feeling like a canyon. I smoothed my dress, my hands shaking with a cocktail of adrenaline and hate.

"Don't you ever dare come near me again," I said, my voice cold enough to freeze the air between us. "Stay the fuck away from me, Lucian. I'm done playing."

I turned and walked away, my heels clicking a sharp countdown against the marble floor.

Then I saw her, Aryan, her bump evident, betrayal in human form, walking towards me. Her gaze was dark, but I didn't stop until I burst through the exit, leaving the music, the whispers, and the ghost of his touch behind.