Lyra stood frozen in the hospital corridor, Percival's steady presence beside her doing little to calm the storm of emotions raging within. Every certainty she'd ever had about herself lay in ruins at her feet.
"I can't do this," she whispered, pulling her hand from Percival's grasp.
"Lyra—"
"No." She shook her head firmly. "I can't ask Mrs. Moreau for a DNA test. Not now. Not after what Colette just told me."
Percival's brow furrowed. "What exactly did she say?"
Lyra leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "She admitted Lachlan isn't my father. She doesn't even know who is. She was with multiple men around that time."
The words tasted bitter on her tongue. Her entire existence reduced to a cruel scheme.
"And Eleanor?" Percival asked quietly.
"I don't know," Lyra admitted. "But I refuse to believe Mrs. Moreau would be unfaithful to her husband. She's the most loyal person I know."
Percival stepped closer. "Then how do you explain Julian's claim?"
