Lyra's heart pounded as the taxi approached the legendary Covington estate. No. One Manor loomed ahead, its imposing iron gates gleaming in the afternoon sun. She glanced at Mrs. Covington, who had dozed off during the ride.
"We're here," Lyra said gently, touching the old woman's hand.
Mrs. Covington blinked awake, confusion briefly clouding her eyes. "Oh. Home already?"
The taxi stopped at the gates. Lyra paid the driver and helped Mrs. Covington out of the car, supporting the elderly woman's weight against her side.
"I don't think they're expecting us," Lyra said, noticing the closed gates and lack of staff. She checked her phone and sent a quick message to "Grandson": *We're at your gate. Your grandmother is tired.*
Beside her, Mrs. Covington leaned heavily on her arm. "I'm just a little winded, dear. Don't worry about me."
Lyra frowned, noticing the older woman's labored breathing. "Let's find somewhere for you to sit."
Before they could move, a sleek Mercedes screeched to a halt behind them. The doors flew open, and Lyra's stomach dropped as Orla and Colette emerged.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Orla demanded, her face contorted with anger.
Lyra stiffened. "This doesn't concern you."
Colette stepped forward, eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. "Trying to force your way into the Covington estate? You're pathetic."
"I'm just bringing Mrs. Covington home," Lyra replied calmly, though her pulse quickened.
Orla let out a harsh laugh. "Mrs. Covington? This confused old lady?" She turned to the elderly woman with mock sweetness. "Ma'am, do you know this woman? She's trying to use you to get to Percival Covington."
Mrs. Covington drew herself up despite her fatigue. "I know exactly who she is."
"She's a liar," Colette cut in, moving closer. "She's been stalking Mr. Covington for weeks. Security removed her from his office building yesterday."
Lyra felt Mrs. Covington stiffen beside her. "That's not true. I—"
"Oh, please," Orla sneered. "Everyone knows about your obsession with him. You couldn't have Jasper, so now you're aiming even higher?"
Mrs. Covington's grip on Lyra's arm tightened. "Young lady, your behavior is appalling."
"Stay out of this, you old hag," Colette snapped. "You have no idea what this girl is capable of."
The color drained from Mrs. Covington's face. She gasped, one hand flying to her chest as her knees buckled.
"Mrs. Covington!" Lyra cried, catching her before she hit the ground. "What's wrong?"
The older woman's breathing came in short, painful gasps. "My... medicine..."
Lyra frantically searched the woman's purse, finding a small pill bottle. Empty. She looked up at Orla and Colette in panic.
"She needs help! Her medication is gone!"
Orla crossed her arms. "How convenient. Another one of your tricks?"
"This isn't a trick!" Lyra shouted, supporting Mrs. Covington's weight. "Call an ambulance!"
"Step away from her," Colette ordered. "We're not falling for this."
Lyra made a split-second decision. She scooped the frail woman into her arms and headed for the gate. "I need to get her inside. They'll have medical supplies."
Orla darted forward, blocking her path. "You're not getting in there."
"Move!" Lyra demanded, desperation making her voice crack. "She needs help now!"
"Put her down," Colette hissed, grabbing Lyra's arm. "You're hurting her!"
Mrs. Covington's breathing grew more labored, her face ashen. Lyra tried to push past them, but Orla planted herself firmly in front of the gate.
"Let me through!" Lyra cried, struggling to keep her balance with the weight in her arms.
"Security!" Orla shouted. "Help! This woman is trying to break in!"
Colette lunged forward, grabbing Lyra's leg and pulling. "Drop her! You're going to kill her!"
Lyra stumbled, nearly losing her grip on Mrs. Covington. "Stop it! You're the ones who are going to kill her!"
Colette threw herself to the ground, still clinging to Lyra's ankle. "Help! She's attacking us! She's trying to kidnap an old woman!"
The sound of an approaching car cut through the chaos. A sleek black Bentley rolled up to the gate, its engine purring to a stop.
The driver's door opened, and Percival Covington emerged. Tall, imposing, dressed in an immaculate suit, his cold gaze swept over the scene. His eyes landed on Orla and Colette first, then shifted to Lyra.
"What's happening here?" he demanded, his voice like ice.
Orla immediately straightened, her expression transforming into one of distress. "Percival! Thank goodness you're here. This woman—" she pointed at Lyra "—was trying to force her way onto your property using this poor confused lady as an excuse."
Lyra opened her mouth to protest, but Percival's attention had shifted. His eyes fell on the woman in her arms, and his expression changed. The cold mask cracked, his pupils contracting in shock and horror.
"Grandmother?" he whispered.
Orla's lie died in the air. Her face went slack with disbelief.
Mrs. Covington's eyes fluttered weakly as she reached a trembling hand toward him. "Puppy... help..."
Percival's gaze snapped back to Lyra, then to Colette still clutching her leg, then to Orla blocking the gate. His expression transformed into something terrible—raw fury mingled with deadly calm.
"Open the gate," he ordered, his voice barely audible yet somehow filling the space. "Now."
Orla stumbled backward, her face pale. "Percival, I didn't know—"
"Open. The. Gate." Each word fell like a hammer blow.
As the gate began to swing open, Percival strode toward Lyra. His eyes met hers—not with accusation, but with a question.
"Her heart medication," Lyra explained quickly. "The bottle's empty. She collapsed when—"
Percival didn't wait for her to finish. In one fluid motion, he took his grandmother from Lyra's arms and moved swiftly through the gates, already barking orders into his phone.
Lyra followed, her legs shaking from adrenaline and exertion. Behind her, she heard Orla's desperate voice.
"Percival, please, let me explain! We were just trying to protect you from her!"
Percival didn't even turn around. His focus remained entirely on the frail woman in his arms, his stride never faltering as he headed toward the mansion.
Lyra glanced back once. Orla and Colette stood frozen at the gate, their faces masks of horror as the full implications of what they'd done began to sink in.
They had just prevented Old Mrs. Covington—the matriarch of Oceanion's most powerful family—from receiving life-saving medication. And Percival Covington had witnessed it all.