The shadow wife

Lyra's POV

I stood outside the prison gates, my heart racing with a mix of emotions. I hadn't seen my father in years, not since I was 6 years old. My mother had told me he was dead, but a few days ago, she had finally revealed the truth - that he was alive, and had been imprisoned for arson.

As I walked into the visitation room, I looked around for a familiar face. But there were so many strangers, and I didn't know what my father looked like anymore. I approached the prison warden and gave him my father's name.

"He's been called," the warden said, nodding. "Please, take a seat."

I sat down, fidgeting with my hands. A few minutes later, a man walked into the room, looking around uncertainly. His eyes scanned the room, and then they landed on me.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. He looked older, wearier, but there was something in his eyes that seemed familiar. And then, suddenly, he gasped, and tears began to stream down his face.

"Lyra?" he whispered, his voice shaking.

I nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of my own eyes. "Dad?" I whispered back.

He stumbled towards me, and I stood up, feeling a little uncertain. But as he reached me, he opened his arms, and I fell into them, feeling a deep sense of connection and love.

We held each other for a long time, tears streaming down our faces. We didn't need words - our eyes said everything.

Finally, we pulled back, and my father looked at me, his eyes filled with pain and regret. "I'm so sorry, Lyra," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

I shook my head, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I'm sorry I didn't visit you earlier," I said.

My father's eyes clouded over, and he looked away. "How's your mother?" he asked.

I took a deep breath. "She's been hospitalized," I said. "She's not doing well."

My father's face contorted in pain, and he looked away, trying to compose himself.

"What happened, Dad?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you... why did you commit the arson?"

My father's eyes clouded over, and he shook his head. "You wouldn't understand, Lyra," he said. "It's complicated."

I felt a surge of frustration, but I pushed it aside. "Have you been living well?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "It's been tough," I said finally. "Mom and I have struggled to make ends meet. I had to drop out of school because we couldn't afford it."

My father's face contorted in pain, and confusion and he looked away, trying to compose himself. I could see the regret and guilt etched on his face, and I knew that he was shouldering the blame for our struggles.

We sat there in silence for a long time, the only sound the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above us and the security's warning that visit time was up. Finally, my father spoke up.

"I'm so sorry, Lyra," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I couldn't provide for you."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I looked at my father. I could see the pain and regret etched on his face, and I knew that he was genuinely sorry.

"It's not your fault, Dad," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "We've managed. We're alive."

My father's eyes filled with tears, and he nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm glad you're alive, Lyra," he said. "I'm glad you're strong. Please visit soon, we need to talk." He pleaded "I will dad" I responded as he was being taken away

As we parted ways, I felt a sense of connection with my father that I had never felt before. I knew that we still had a long way to go, but for the first time in years, I felt hopeful.

As I stepped out of the car and onto the driveway of the Smith's mansion, a mix of emotions swirled inside me. It had been a while since I'd last set foot in this house, 3 weeks to be precise and I wasn't sure what to expect. Mrs. Smith's request to meet with me had been unexpected, to say the least.

I took a deep breath and began walking towards the entrance, my eyes cast downward. That's when I saw him - Anderson, walking out of the house, his eyes fixed on me.

"Good day sir," I said softly, trying to avoid eye contact.

But Anderson walked up to me, his long strides eating up the distance between us. He gently lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning my face.

For a moment, I was taken aback by the concern etched on his features. No one had looked at me like that in a long time.

"Yes,I'm fine," I said, trying to sound convincing.

But Anderson's eyes lingered on mine, as if he wasn't sure he believed me. His assistant, a poised woman with a crisp smile, reminded him that he was running late for a meeting.

"I'll see you tonight," Anderson said, his eyes still locked on mine. "Don't disappear on me again."

I nodded, feeling a shiver run down my spine. There was something in Anderson's tone that made me feel like he wasn't just asking to see me - he was warning me.

As Anderson turned to leave, I watched him go, my mind racing with questions. What did he want from me? And why was he suddenly so interested in my well-being? Tho he's been nice to me but this felt different.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the front door, steeling myself for what lay ahead.

I made my way through the familiar halls of the Smith's mansion, my heart pounding in my chest. I had no idea what to expect from this meeting with Mrs. Smith.

As I entered her study, I saw James sitting in one of the armchairs, a smug look on his face. Mrs. Smith sat behind her desk, a warm smile on her face.

"Ah, Lyra, dear," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Congratulations on a job well done. I must say, I'm impressed."

I felt a surge of unease at her words, but I tried to keep my expression neutral.

"I'm glad I could be of service, ma'am," I said, my voice soft.

Mrs. Smith waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, please, Lyra. I'm sure you're aware that there may have been a little... discomfort involved in your task."

Discomfort? That's what she called it? I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, but I tried to push it aside and I tried to keep my cool.

"But it was all worth it, I assure you," Mrs. Smith continued. "Your evidence will be very... useful to us."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at her words, what did she mean by "useful"? but I tried to push it aside.

"Now, as for your reward," Mrs. Smith said, a sly smile spreading across her face. "I'm offering you a substantial sum of money, of course. And, as an added bonus, your mother's treatment will continue, courtesy of the Smith family."

I felt a surge of relief at her words, but it was quickly followed by a sense of unease.

"And, as for your position here at the mansion," Mrs. Smith continued, "I'm pleased to inform you that you'll be promoted to the VVIP wing. You'll be taking of our most esteemed guests when need be."

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me at her words, but I tried to keep my expression neutral. As Mrs. Smith continued to talk, I found myself zoning out, my mind consumed by anger and disgust. How could she treat me like this? Didn't she care that I had been hurt?

"And, of course, you'll still have your job here at the mansion with an increased salary, if you want it," Mrs. Smith added, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure you'll find it... fulfilling."

I felt a surge of anger at her words, but I tried to push it aside. I knew I had to play it cool, at least for now.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said, my voice soft.

Mrs. Smith smiled, seemingly pleased with herself. "I'm glad we understand each other, Lyra. I'll have the paperwork drawn up, and you can start your new position immediately."

As I looked at James, sitting in the armchair, a smug look on his face, I realized that they didn't care. They didn't care that I had been raped, that I had been hurt. All they cared about was themselves, their power, and their privilege.

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. But inside, I was seething. I felt a surge of determination, I was going to make all of them pay for what they made me go through. I knew I had to get out of this situation, and fast. But for now, I was trapped.

As I turned to leave, Mrs. Smith's voice stopped me. "Lyra, wait," she said, her tone cold and menacing.

I turned back to face her, my heart racing with anticipation.

"I'm sure you understand the importance of discretion," Mrs. Smith said, her eyes glinting with warning. "What happened then and here, what we discussed, it's all confidential. You're not to breathe a word to anyone."

I felt a surge of anger at her words, but I knew I had to keep my cool. I nodded, trying to look submissive.

"I understand, ma'am," I said, my voice soft.

Mrs. Smith's eyes narrowed. "Good," she said. "Because if you do decide to speak out, there will be consequences. You'll be disgraced, Lyra. Your reputation will be ruined. And your mother... well, let's just say her treatment will be... reevaluated."

I felt a chill run down my spine at her words. I knew she was capable of carrying out her threats. I nodded again, trying to show my understanding.

"I won't say anything, ma'am," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Smith smiled, seeming to accept my assurance. "Good," she said. " Now, you may go."

I turned and left the study, my heart heavy with emotion. I knew I had to be careful, that I had to keep my mouth shut if I wanted to protect myself and my mother. But I also knew that I couldn't keep quiet forever. I had to find a way to expose James and his mother, to bring them down for what they had done to me.

As the evening wore on, I busied myself in the kitchen, trying to avoid any further interactions with the Smiths. But it seemed fate had other plans.

Anderson walked into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. He smiled, and I felt a flutter in my chest, which I quickly suppressed.

"Lyra, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I nodded, wiping my hands on my apron. "Of course, sir."

Anderson's eyes narrowed slightly at my formal tone, but he didn't push the issue. "What happened, Lyra?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "You've been distant lately, and I can tell something's wrong."

I felt a surge of fear at his words. I couldn't let him know what had really happened. Mrs. Smith's threats still lingered in my mind, and I knew I had to protect my mother.

"Everything's fine, sir," I lied, trying to sound convincing. "I'm just a bit... overwhelmed with work."

Anderson's eyes searched mine, as if trying to see beyond my words. "If it's something my mother or brother has done, please tell me," he said, his voice urgent. "I'll do everything in my power to help you."

I felt a pang of guilt at his words. He genuinely cared about me, and I was lying to him. But I couldn't risk telling him the truth.

Just then, Anderson's eyes narrowed. "You're the girl from Club Eclipse, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low.

I felt my heart skip a beat as I tried to come up with an excuse. "I... I need to get back to work," I stuttered. "I'll be fired if I don't finish my tasks."

But Anderson wasn't having it. He reached out and grasped my hand, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

"Lyra, please," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I care about you. I don't know why, but I do. And I want you to open up to me."

I felt my defenses crumbling at his words. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. But I knew I couldn't let my guard down.

"I'm a maid, sir," I said, trying to sound firm. "And you're... you're a member of the upper class. We can't be friends. It's not possible."

Anderson's eyes searched mine, as if trying to understand why I was pushing him away. But I knew I had to keep my distance. For my own protection, and for my mother's sake.

Anderson's eyes never left mine, and I could see the disappointment and confusion etched on his face. "Why can't we be friends, Lyra?" he asked, his voice soft.

I took a deep breath and tried to explain. "It's just not possible, sir," I said. "We come from different worlds. You're a member of the upper class, and I'm just a maid. We can't... socialize."

Anderson's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that what my mother told you?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. But Anderson's eyes seemed to bore into mine, as if he could see right through me.

"No, sir," I said finally. "It's just... common sense."

Anderson sighed and released my hand. "I see," he said. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to accept that for now."

But as he turned to leave, I could see the determination etched on his face. I knew that this wasn't the end of the conversation. Anderson Smith was not a man who gave up easily.

As he walked away, I felt a shiver run down my spine. What had I just gotten myself into? Was this what I thought it was? Nahhh.... It can't be