Lyra's heart pounded as Percival's car approached the Moreau mansion. Every second felt like an eternity. After twenty-five years of living a lie, she was finally going to learn the truth. Could she really be Eleanor Croft's daughter? The thought made her dizzy with both hope and fear.
"Are you sure you want to do this alone?" Percival asked, breaking the silence as they pulled up to the imposing gates.
"I have to," Lyra replied, her voice steadier than she expected. "This is my fight."
Percival nodded, his expression unreadable. "Call me when you're done. I'll be nearby."
She stepped out of the car, took a deep breath of the crisp evening air, and marched toward the mansion. The familiar path she'd walked thousands of times now felt foreign. Everything could change in the next few minutes.
The security guard recognized her and nodded, allowing her through without question. As she approached the main entrance, strange sounds caught her attention—urgent voices, hurried footsteps.
