LYRA

My steps echoed slowly as I walked up the stairs, my heels clicking against the marble floor. The air was filled with murmurs, cameras flashing as reporters hurried to capture every moment. Louis walked beside me, his calm expression steady as ever as we walked in.

It had been ten months since the accident. Ten long months of pain, healing, and rebuilding myself piece by piece. The woman who had once begged for mercy was gone. Every scar, every sleepless night had shaped me into the ...