Phone rings.
She walked with a freshly brewed coffee mug in hand, her heels soft against the marble, and checked the caller ID that had flashed for the nth time.
MIRAE.
She sighed and answered, pressing the phone between her shoulder and cheek as she strolled into the living room.
> “What is it, Mirae?” Lyra said, her voice clipped and cool.
> “Lyra—what are we gonna do?!”
Mirae, her best friend and personal assistant, nearly screamed into the phone.
> “What do you mean?” Lyra replied, unbothered, curling into the plush corner of her sofa.
> “Don’t tell me you haven’t checked the news!”
Mirae was gasping now. “Turn on the TV—for fuck’s sake, why even have that big-ass black screen if you never use it?”
> “Alright, alright.”
She placed her mug down, picked up the remote, and switched on the news channel.
The screen lit up in red.
> BREAKING NEWS: MASSACRE AT HALE MANSION
> “Last night, police received an anonymous tip claiming gunshots were heard at the Hale estate,” the anchor said grimly.
“Upon arrival, officers discovered the bodies of Dominic Hale, his wife Vivienne Hale, and their only son Jonas Hale.
All three had been shot execution-style—straight to the head. No leads. No signs of forced entry.”
Lyra stared. Her lips parted—but no sound came out.
> “This can’t be...” she whispered.
Mirae’s voice crackled through the line.
> “I was in shock when I saw it. This... this wasn’t what we expected. Tomorrow was supposed to be our big day... What do we do now?”
Lyra took a long breath, closing her eyes for just a moment.
> “We go to the funeral,” she said. “Then we push the launch to Saturday. We don’t drop the project.”
> “You think it’ll cause backlash?” Mirae asked hesitantly.
> “No,” Lyra said coldly. “Not if we frame it right. We’ll call it a tribute to Hales & Co. A legacy collection... in their memory.”
She took another sip of her coffee—still warm. Unbothered.
AT FUNERAL OF HALES :
The car pulled up in front of the funeral hall.
Lyra stepped out, heels clicking onto the pavement. She was dressed in black—an elegantly tailored coat cinched at the waist, her long hair falling freely down her back. A pair of sleek sunglasses covered her eyes, hiding whatever emotions may—or may not—have been there.
The air was thick with whispers and wilted lilies. She walked toward the open area where the burial was taking place.
As she approached the crowd, her eyes fell on a man hunched over, shoulders shaking with grief.
She didn’t need a second look.
Sebastian Graves.
So-called best friend of Dominic Hale. Always too close. Always too smooth.
She walked toward him, expression unreadable.
> “Did they complete the burial ceremony?” she asked flatly.
Sebastian looked up, eyes red—but were those real tears?
> “Oh no... Miss Drayce,” he sniffled, dramatically. “My dearest friend left me too soon. I just wanted... more time.”
She gave no response.
> “And Jonas...” he continued. “He was like my own son. Twenty-six. Just a boy. Gone.”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.
Instead, she walked past him—unbothered—and toward the coffins.
Three of them.
Laid out. Polished. Cold.
Dominic. Vivienne. Jonas.
She stared at them for the last time, eyes hidden behind the tinted glass. There was no visible emotion, only silence.
The final words were spoken.
The priest asked everyone to bow their heads in respect.
Lyra closed her eyes—only because tradition demanded it.
And when it was over, she turned, heels soft against the grass, and walked away—Mirae quietly falling into step beside her.
Not a single tear.
Not a single glance back.
Lyra pov :
“Mirae, did you create the updated invitations for the launch?”
Lyra asked while walking toward the car, calm as ever.
> “Yes,” Mirae replied, flipping through her phone. “I just need to send them to the guests.”
“And I—”
She was interrupted by a voice.
> “Miss Drayce.”
Lyra turned slowly, already knowing who it was.
Sebastian Graves.
Eyes swollen, but not from crying.
Tone smooth, but not sincere.
> “What is it?” she asked flatly.
> “I know what happened was... unbelievable,” he said. “Tomorrow was supposed to be a big day for both you and the Hales. But what are you—?”
> “The launch has been postponed to Saturday, Mr. Graves,” Lyra cut in sharply.
> “And the profit?” he asked, more pointed this time.
Before Lyra could answer, another voice interrupted.
For the first time, Sebastian’s secretary spoke up.
> “Mr. Graves, you don’t know?”
He looked between them. “Miss Drayce owns 40% of Hales & Co. The other 40% was sold to... someone. I don’t know who. But maybe she’ll take profit from both?”
His tone carried a hint of accusation—subtle, but there.
Lyra smiled faintly, barely tilting her head.
> “Mr. John, the profit that belonged to Mr. Hale will be reinvested into Hales & Co.”
She stepped forward, voice cool.
“We have no intention of taking everything. Though I must say, it's rather surprising that Mr. Graves had no idea his dearest friend sold off most of his company.”
She turned away with effortless grace and walked back to her car. Mirae followed.
> “Are you sure about this?” Mirae whispered beside her. “There’s no heir. Won’t this all go in vain?”
Lyra didn’t look at her.
> “Who said Hales needs an heir?”
She opened the car door and slipped inside.
> “I’m going to take over Hales & Co.”
Once inside, she crossed her legs like she owned the world.
> “Did you call Lucas?”
> “Ah! Yes!” Mirae said, suddenly remembering. “That’s what I was going to tell you—before Sebastian popped up outta nowhere. Lucas is waiting at the company.”
She gave the driver a nod.
> “Take us to the office.”
Sebastian's POV
He watched Lyra walk away, her calm demeanor slicing through his ego like glass.
> “She always gets on my nerves,” he muttered under his breath.
“Acting like she owns the world.”
Jhon adjusted his glasses and said . She's always ahead of you sir.
> “I swear, one day... I’m going to ruin that bitch.” sebastian Graves clenched his jaw.
---
Unknown POV
From a distance, someone watched it all unfold.
No emotion. No movement. Just a cold smirk as the cars pulled away.
> “This... is only the beginning.”
AT THE OFFICE :
As soon as Lyra entered her chamber with Mirae, they saw Lucas lounging casually on the leather couch.
He stood as soon as he saw her and walked forward.
> “Lyraaa,” he said, pulling her into a warm hug.
She hugged him back and then pulled away, brushing her hair off her shoulder.
> “Sorry for disturbing your holiday, Lucas,” she said.
> “Are you kidding?” he laughed. “The second I saw the news, I knew you’d need me. I was just waiting for your call.”
Lyra allowed herself a small smile.
> “You’ll have to take care of everything for Saturday’s launch. I know it’s going to be hell to redo everything from scratch, but—”
> “Lyra,” he interrupted, raising a brow. “You know you can trust me. Yeah, there’s a ton of work. The ambassadors are already flying in, media’s watching... but talk less. I’ve got it. Saturday’s gonna be a blast.”
She smiled again, softer this time.
> “Thank you, Lucas. If you need help, Mirae’s right here—”
> “NAURR,” he cut in, muttering under his breath, “I don’t need any trouble. She’s just good at being your PA.”
> “I heard that,” Mirae said, rolling her eyes. “And what the hell do you mean by trouble?”
> “I just don’t want any pain-in-the-ass situations because of you,” he shrugged innocently.
> “Jerk,” Mirae muttered.
> “Anyway—” Lucas said with a wink, already backing out of the room, “I’ll get going. Take care, Lyra. And worry less.”
Once he left, Mirae flopped dramatically onto the couch.
> “Ugh. What a jerk.”
Lyra chuckled lightly, taking her seat behind her long glass table and turning to her computer.
> “By the way, Lyra,” Mirae said, looking thoughtful now, “why did Dominic Hale sell off his company shares so suddenly? That man would lick shoes for money, and then suddenly he’s selling off everything?”
Lyra didn’t stop typing.
> “After the scandal—stealing ideas and copying smaller brands—their reputation tanked. HALES & Co. was near bankruptcy. He came to me asking for a collaboration. I agreed... mostly because Vivienne had an eye for exceptional design.”
She paused briefly, scanning something on her screen.
> “I gave him one condition: no cheating, no stolen work. Everything had to be raw and original. We worked together on the project... but I suppose it just wasn’t in their fate to see it through.”
Mirae sat upright now, her curiosity growing.
> “ who Do you think... killed them, Lyra? Do you think it was someone they knew?”
Lyra paused for a moment, the soft tapping of her keyboard halting briefly.
> “Dominic took out a loan from someone. I don’t know who. But I have a feeling... it’s the same person he sold the other 40% of his company to.”
> “You think he didn’t pay them back on time, and that person... had him killed?” Mirae whispered, eyes wide.
> “Could be,” Lyra said, calmly resuming her work. “Or maybe it was always the plan.”
Suddenly, silence fell in the room.
Mirae sat still, lost deep in thought.
Lyra, as usual, remained focused—fingers dancing over her keyboard.
> “Mirae, did you—”
She was cut off by a knock at the door.
Both women turned, eyes narrowing.
> “Come in,” Lyra called out.
The door opened, revealing Chloé, the company’s ever-composed receptionist.
> “Miss Drayce,” she said. “Detective Theo is here. He wishes to speak with you regarding the investigation.”
A beat of silence.
Mirae and Lyra exchanged a glance.
> “Why the hell is he here?” Mirae whispered, eyebrows raised.
Lyra stood slowly, adjusting her cuffs.
> “Mirae, are you done sending the invitations?”
Mirae blinked, caught off guard.
> “Uh… no. Not yet.”
> “Then finish them. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Her tone was calm—but there was steel behind it.
She turned to Chloé.
> “Send the detective in.”
Both Mirae and Chloé nodded and left the room.
Lyra sat back down, crossing one leg over the other, her expression unreadable.
The soft click of the door closing echoed behind her.
For a moment, she just stared ahead, her fingers steepled under her chin.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Waiting.
End of chapter 2
Author’s Note:
One funeral, two masks, and too many secrets.
Who really holds the strings?
See you in Chapter 3, where silence starts to speak.
—Nyx 🖤
Write a comment ...