Lyra tapped the call history button, and the latest incoming number popped up. One glance at the city code told her the called from Mistvale.
She couldn't take it anymore. The hurt, the feeling of being unwanted, the exhaustion—they pressed down on her so hard she could barely breathe.
Lyra made up her mind and rushed upstairs. She took a quick shower, wiped her face dry, and began packing everything she thought she might need.
Mere's eyes widened in shock as Lyra hauled her suitcase out of the private elevator of the penthouse.
"Ma'am, where are you going?" Meredith asked.
Lyra paused—then suddenly remembered Martin's advice.
She rushed back upstairs, grabbed her sunglasses and a scarf, and hurried down again, only to find Meredith still standing there, frozen in place.
"Mere, you don't have to make breakfast starting tomorrow. I'll be away for quite a while," Lyra said, already reaching for her car keys—the ones she hadn't touched in ages.
