The banquet was finally winding down. Lyra stood near the exit, watching as the last of the guests filed out of the grand ballroom. Her mind was still reeling from the evening's revelations. Alice's confession had turned everything upside down, exposing Orla's vicious lies for everyone to see.
Mr. Gallagher approached her, his gaze lingering on her face in a way that made her uncomfortable. He'd been staring at her all evening with an odd intensity.
"Miss Moreau," he said, his voice softer than before. "I can't shake the feeling we've met before."
"I don't believe we have, sir," Lyra replied politely.
He shook his head. "Not you and I. But you... you look exactly like someone I knew many years ago."
There was something in his eyes—a mixture of pain and wonder—that made Lyra pause.
"Who?" she asked.
"Eleanor Croft," he said, almost reverently. "You have her eyes, her smile, even the way you hold yourself."
