Mr. Vance stood frozen across from Lyra.
The café's warm light softened nothing—
not the tension in his jaw,
not the shock tightening his eyes,
and not the fear seeping beneath his composure.
Lyra set her cup down gently.
"I meant what I said," she murmured.
Mr. Vance blinked.
"You… won't sign anything?"
"No."
His fingers twitched against the edge of the table.
"Lyra, you're too young to understand how paperwork works. Some things are routine—inheritance, property rights, transfers—"
She lifted her gaze.
"I understand perfectly."
He hesitated. "Mira's things—"
"My mother's things," Lyra corrected softly.
Mr. Vance swallowed.
"You've never questioned us before."
Lyra smiled faintly.
"I didn't question anything in my first life either."
He frowned. "What?"
"Nothing," she said, taking another unhurried sip.
The air around them shifted—Mr. Vance felt it, though he couldn't name it.
Lyra didn't look volatile or emotional.
She looked… controlled.
And that unsettled him more than any tantrum could.
He tried again.
"Lyra, your future—our future—depends on stability. You need guidance."
"You mean control."
He stiffened. "I've always done what's best."
"For you," Lyra said.
Not him.
Not her.
Not her mother.
His lips thinned.
"You're being unreasonable."
"And you're being transparent."
He went still.
Lyra leaned forward slightly, voice cool and quiet.
"You don't want me calm.
You don't want me curious.
You don't want me thinking."
She tilted her head.
"You want me obedient."
Mr. Vance opened his mouth—then closed it again.
Silence pressed between them, thick and brittle.
Lyra stood.
"We're done talking."
He rose quickly. "Lyra—wait."
She paused.
He lowered his voice, eyes flickering with an emotion she had never seen from him in her past life:
Uncertainty.
"You're making things harder," he said. "For everyone."
Lyra turned slightly, the pendant beneath her shirt pulsing with a soft warmth.
"I'm making things harder for you," she corrected. "Not for me."
He inhaled sharply.
"Claudia and Kira worry—"
"No," Lyra said, meeting his gaze. "They worry about losing what isn't theirs."
He froze.
Lyra stepped past him and walked toward the door.
He didn't follow.
He didn't call her name again.
He just stood there—
processing the shattering reality that the girl he relied on to keep their life afloat…
was slipping out of his grasp.
Lyra pushed the café door open.
Cool air brushed her face as she stepped outside.
The pendant hummed softly—approval, encouragement, something deeper she didn't yet understand.
But she knew one thing:
She wasn't going back to who she was.
Not now.
Not ever again.
As she walked down the street, her senses sharpened—too sharply.
Someone was watching her.
Not Mr.Vance.
Not Claudia.
Not Kira.
The presence was faint… distant… almost fading the moment she tried to focus on it.
Lyra slowed.
The pendant warmed.
A whisper of an instinct—
a barely-there sensation—
something supernatural stirring at the edge of her perception.
Then it disappeared.
Lyra lifted her chin and kept walking.
If this life wanted to test her, it would learn soon enough:
She was not the same girl who drowned.
She was something much more dangerous.