CHAPTER 71: THE WEIGHT OF TRUTH II

"It’s not what you think," Alex said, trying to keep the situation from spiraling.

Before Lyra could say anything, he left the room. He just needed to keep things from growing even more tense, especially with so many witnesses around.

He strode toward the parking lot and left the hospital.

On the way home, he was in a daze, nearly causing an accident, but somehow made it back safely.

"Welcome home, sir. What would you like for dinner?" the maid greeted him.

"I need to rest. There’s no need to prepare dinner for me tonight," Alex said as he walked past her and went straight to his room.

Once inside, he loosened his tie and collapsing onto the bed. He buried his face in his hands, trying to shut out the weight of the day.

Then his eyes fell on the photo beside the bed—Avelina.

When he heard that Martin had found a woman who resembled her, he prayed it was truly her.

He prayed that the news about the car crash would suddenly turn out to be false.

A tiny possible hope lingered because he had never seen Avelina’s body after that day, and her funeral had been held without one.

But Alex still couldn’t bring himself to believe it was her. There was no spark in that woman eyes, no familiar light he had once known.

Even the woman hold the same green eyes, the same brown hair, Alex could trace the difference between them, even in the slightest detail.

...

After Alex left, Monica stayed close to Lyra, trying to ease her distress.

"Lyra, don’t push your father too hard. Just give him a little time," she said softly, rubbing Lyra’s back.

Her gaze then drifted to the woman beside them, who sat quietly with a puzzled look on her face, detached from the world around her. She clearly didn’t fully understand what was happening.

Nora came by the pantry with a meal and placed it carefully on the overbed table, then handed her the spoon before stepping aside.

The woman scooped up a full spoonful of rice and ate hurriedly, smudging it around her lips. Lyra wiped her mouth with slow, gentle movements.

"Easy... Let me help you," Lyra said with a soft smile, lifting the spoon and feeding her slowly.

Monica watched in silence, feeling a quiet ache of pity for them. Both had been going through so much pain that no one was aware of.

Just then, Rowan arrived. He knocked before easing the door open.

He was gasping for air.

"Are you coming running?" Monica’s eyes widened at the sight of her son, like a fish out of water.

"Just an exercise," he replied, trying to joke with his mother, but the joke didn’t reach her because his face remained blank as he struggled to steady his breathing.

His gaze landed on the woman with one eye. His brows knitted together, wondering if that was really Lyra’s mother.

Who dared to do such a cruel thing to Hale’s daughter.

Rowan eased the door shut behind him and walked toward Lyra.

"I’m sorry the meeting ran late," he said, guilt heavy in his voice for not being able to get there sooner, to be with her in a moment like this.

Earlier, he worried she might fall apart after everything happened so suddenly. He had called his parents and asked them to come check on her.

But now she was smiling, even the sadness had not fully left her face.

"Have you eaten?" Lyra asked as she rose from her seat and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

"Not yet, but it’s fine. I’ll ask Kane to send dinner over," he replied gently. "What about you, have you eaten?"

As he spoke, Rowan lifted his hand and softly tugged at her hair.

"Lyra hasn’t eaten yet," Monica chimed in gently. "Go on, have a meal with Rowan. I’ll stay with her for a while."

She ushered them out quickly, hoping Lyra could have a moment to breathe and had some space away from thoughts of the woman who was not yet her mother.

...

At the Hale estate, Agnes studied the woman in the photo Nora had sent earlier. Her gaze remained calm. She didn’t flinch even in the slightest.

"Cray," she called for the butler. "Did Lyra proceed with the DNA test?"

She set her phone down on the glass table with careful ease and tilted her head, trying to meet the gaze of the one who kept his eyes lowered in quiet respect.

"Yes. She’s already sent the sample to the lab," Mr. Cray answered quietly.

"Good," Agnes said. "If the test proves negative, handle it as usual. And please call Pierce here. I want to meet them by tomorrow."

By the time evening fell the next day, Albert and Rowan arrived. Mr. Cray greeted them and led them to the parlor.

"Please, have a seat. Madam will be here shortly," he said, then stepped away.

He proceeded to the kitchen and instructed the maid to prepare refreshments for the guests.

Meanwhile, Agnes sat in the garden, a blanket draped over her legs. Her eyes were lost in a daze as she stared blankly at the butterflies dancing over the fresh blooms.

Dora approached quietly from behind and called her, "Madam... the Pierces are here."

Her voice drew Agnes back from her thoughts. Agnes turned and nodded, a silent signal that Dora gently pushed her wheelchair back inside.

Inside the parlor, both father and son stood as Agnes appeared, but she quickly signaled for them to sit.

"Thank you for coming," Agnes said first, appreciating their effort to come at her call.

She didn’t call them for no reason. There was an important matter, and they already knew what it was.

She looked at Albert for a long moment before she finally spoke. "Please forgive me, Albert. All this time, I’ve kept troubling your family."

Agnes felt heavy with guilt toward the Pierces, yet only Albert, her husband’s best friend, was the one she truly trusted for help.

Albert shook his head. "You’re not troubling me or the Pierces. We’re family. Don’t you remember?"

He patted Rowan’s knee gently. "My son is married to your granddaughter."

Rowan heard what his father said, but he remained silent. He was new to this family, and he wasn’t someone who would blindly agree before knowing the story behind the scenes.