Chapter 23
Alex Benjamin had rehearsed the conversation in his head a dozen times before he knocked on the Ford estate door. He had told himself to be calm, deliberate, focused. But as Ariel ushered him into the parlor, the weight of what he carried inside pressed heavier than any strategy could smooth over.
Lyra was already there. She stood near the window, framed by the afternoon light, a book closed gently in her hand as though she had been waiting. Her smile, faint and measured, did not reach her eyes.
“Alex,” she said softly, as though welcoming an old friend. “It has been a while. You look tired.”
He ignored the pleasantry. “We need to talk.”
Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she gestured toward the armchair opposite hers. “Then sit. I assume this is not about Bruc
