Scarred by Love, Healed by Fate

Deborah went quiet for a few seconds before saying, "Alright. Tomorrow, your dad and I will discuss the marriage with the Windsors."

Lyra didn't sleep all night.

The next morning, Joel still hadn't come back. Just one message:

[Lyra, there's an issue at the company. I'm going on a business trip for three days.]

She didn't bother replying. Instead, she booked a flight to Emmerica for a week later.

Packing up felt like ripping out roots. Years of living with Joel had piled up way too much stuff. Since the Lebeaus were strapped for cash, she listed anything valuable online.

By evening, a notification popped up—a message from an unfamiliar account:

[Hi, Lyra.]

She tapped it open. The profile pic was a positive pregnancy test, and the username read 'ReeRee Bliss.'

Of course. Renee made a new, private account just to mess with her. Not brave enough to go public yet.

A minute later, a social media post from Renee appeared—a photo of Joel at a prenatal checkup, captioned:

[Hehe, gentle, caring, and filthy rich—the perfect dad 😘]

Lyra saw through the petty scheme instantly. She liked the post and fired off a comment:

[Got my bone marrow, got better, and now you're here to provoke me? Tell me, Renee Slutz—how does stolen life taste?]

The next day, Lyra met up with her friends to say goodbye and sold off some luxury stuff to willing buyers.

On the way home, her phone buzzed—another post from Renee. More photos, this time of Joel helping her pick out maternity clothes. Pink and white dresses, all fancy and cute.

Curious, Lyra scrolled back to the last post and spotted Renee's smug reply to her comment:

[It's not like I begged you to donate your bone marrow. Joel was just worried about me and forced me to accept it.]

Lyra snorted and shot back a single question mark.

By the third day, she'd sold all the gifts she'd given Joel over the years—shirts, shoes, watches. Every trace of him, gone.

Then, another post from Renee popped up. This time it was about some luxury postpartum care center Joel had booked for her. The caption read:

[Can't help it. People like me are just born lucky.]

That afternoon, Joel finally showed up. He froze when he saw the half-empty bedroom, frowning at the pink suitcase by the door.

"Why does the place look so empty? Those shirts you gave me are gone too. And why'd you suddenly buy a suitcase?"

Lyra dropped her gaze, keeping it casual. "Those shirts were outdated, so I tossed them. Was planning a trip but changed my mind."

Thinking she was just sulking because he'd been gone for three days, Joel pulled out a purchase contract and handed it over. "I've been busy with work, so I ordered you a new supercar. We'll go pick it up later."

Lyra glanced at the contract. An exclusive Lamborghini—black and pink, just how she liked it. Even the seats were customized with her favorite animated character.

Cars were her thing, way more than designer bags, and this model had definitely caught her eye recently. Six years together, and Joel still knew her tastes to a T.

If she hadn't overheard his little chat with Evelyn at the hospital, she might've actually felt touched.

"Thanks."

She set the contract aside.

Joel frowned and leaned in, gently pinching her cheek. "Still mad? There's a party tonight. I'll take you out to unwind."

Lyra was about to say no, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her downstairs.

They hadn't been on the road long when Joel's phone rang. The caller ID flashed 'Cutie ReeRee.'

Lyra couldn't catch much—just a shaky, sobbing voice saying, "Joel... sob... hurry, save me..."

Joel's jaw clenched. He tapped the screen, pulling up Renee's real-time location from some app, then whipped the car around.

"Forget the party. Renee's been kidnapped. I have to get to her."

He drove like a maniac, blasting through over a dozen red lights.

Twenty minutes later, he spotted a black sedan up ahead and slammed the gas.

Bang!

The back of the sedan crumpled instantly.

At the same moment, another car slammed into the Bentley's passenger side, sending it skidding. Lyra couldn't move fast enough—her head smacked against the window, and blood started streaming down her face.

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through her skull like needles digging straight into her brain. She couldn't even make a sound.

Joel didn't spare her a glance—his eyes stayed glued to Renee in the black sedan, completely oblivious to Lyra's injury.

After three more collisions, the black car finally screeched to a stop. The attackers bailed, jumping into the accomplice's vehicle and speeding off.

Joel shoved his door open and rushed to the back seat, scooping Renee into his arms. For the first time, pure panic flashed in his eyes.

"You okay? Did they hurt you?"

Renee curled into his arms, her face tilted up to show a red slap mark, eyes shimmering with tears.

"It was my dad's business rivals... They just slapped me once. It's nothing serious."

Seeing her like that made Joel's heart clench. He growled in frustration.

"Nothing serious? Even when you were abroad, I spoiled you and kept you safe from stuff like this. What if something happened to the baby?"

Renee sobbed harder. "It's your fault for taking so long... I was so scared..."

"Don't be afraid. It's my fault. I'll get you checked out right now."

He placed her carefully in the back seat, floored it to the hospital in five minutes flat, and carried her straight into the ER.

Not once did he notice Lyra still sitting in the passenger seat—eyes red and swollen, blood soaking through her hair and streaking down her pale face.