Lyra stared at Julian Blackwood, his revelation hanging in the air between them. His smug expression told her he expected shock, devastation—some dramatic reaction. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
"If what you're saying is true," she said carefully, "then Eleanor Croft is my biological mother."
Julian's smirk faltered at her composure. "That's what Orla told me."
"How convenient that you're only sharing this now," Lyra replied, keeping her voice level despite the storm of emotions inside her. "When you have nothing left to lose."
"Believe what you want," Julian shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "The truth is the truth, whether you accept it or not."
Lyra studied his face, searching for deception. But there was something in his defeated posture, in the bitter set of his jaw, that rang true.
"If Eleanor Croft is my mother, a DNA test will prove it," she said, more to herself than to him.
