Chapter 70 —
Lyra's POV
The city looked peaceful.
It was lying.
Rain traced thin silver lines across the glass walls of my penthouse, turning the skyline into a blur of lights. Somewhere below, cars moved like tiny insects, unaware that my world had begun falling apart.
I stood motionless.
The Project Echo files were spread across my dining table.
Photographs.
Medical reports.
Transfer documents.
Old newspaper clippings.
My childhood.
My life.
Reduced to paperwork.
I traced my finger over a faded photograph.
Ally and I.
She couldn't have been older than nine.
I was six.
We were sitting beneath a cherry blossom tree, sharing a strawberry ice cream.
I smiled.
Just a little.
I didn't remember that day.
Not a single second of it.
Yet...
The happiness in the photograph was real.
"So..."
I whispered into the empty room.
"Who stole those memories from me?"
Silence answered.
Then—
Knock.
Exactly three knocks.
Slow.
Evenly spaced.
Not impatient.
Deliberate.
My hand instinctively moved toward the pistol resting beneath the table.
"Mariya?"
No answer.
Three more knocks.
I walked cautiously toward the entrance.
The security monitor beside the door flickered.
The screen turned black.
Then static.
Then—
A message appeared.
DON'T OPEN THE DOOR.
I froze.
Someone had hacked my security system.
My pulse slowed.
The message disappeared.
Another one appeared.
TOO LATE.
The lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the penthouse.
Every room.
Every hallway.
Every corner.
Only the rain remained.
I slowly pulled my pistol free.
The silence felt alive.
Waiting.
Watching.
My heartbeat echoed inside my ears.
Then—
A familiar scent drifted through the darkness.
White roses.
No...
Not roses.
The dried white roses.
The same scent that came with every envelope.
Someone was inside.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I spun instantly.
"Show yourself!"
No answer.
Just footsteps.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Like whoever was here had all the time in the world.
I fired.
The gunshot shattered the silence.
The flash illuminated the room for a fraction of a second.
Enough to reveal—
Nothing.
Empty space.
Then laughter.
Soft.
Cultured.
Male.
"Your aim has improved."
Every hair on my body stood on end.
That voice.
It wasn't distorted.
It wasn't electronic.
It sounded...
Comfortable.
Like someone speaking in his own home.
"Who are you?"
My voice remained steady.
Even if my pulse didn't.
The footsteps stopped.
"I've watched you ask that question your entire life."
I tightened my grip.
"You won't leave this apartment alive."
A quiet chuckle.
"I already have."
Then—
The emergency lights flickered on.
Red.
The penthouse was empty.
No broken windows.
No open doors.
Nothing.
Except—
A single white envelope resting on the coffee table.
It hadn't been there before.
I approached slowly.
Every instinct screamed not to touch it.
I ignored them.
The crimson wax seal carried the same unfamiliar emblem.
Inside—
One photograph.
Nothing else.
I looked at it.
And the world stopped.
It wasn't an old picture.
It had been taken today.
Less than an hour ago.
I was standing beside Kieller's hospital bed.
Looking at him.
Someone had photographed us from inside the room.
On the back, written in elegant black ink—
"You looked at him with love."
My breath caught.
Below it—
"He looked at you with guilt."
And below that—
"One of you is lying."
A sudden vibration broke the silence.
My phone.
Unknown Number.
I answered immediately.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Then—
The same calm male voice.
"Did you like my gift?"
"Show yourself."
"In time."
"I don't play games."
"You already are."
I clenched my jaw.
"What do you want from me?"
The voice became quieter.
Almost... gentle.
"I want you to remember."
A pause.
"Because when you remember everything..."
My heart pounded.
"...you'll come back to me on your own."
The call disconnected.
I stood frozen.
Back...
To him?
What did that mean?
Before I could think further—
My phone rang again.
This time—
Kieller.
I answered immediately.
"What?"
His breathing was uneven.
"Don't go home."
I looked around the penthouse.
Too late.
"I already am."
Silence.
Then his voice changed.
Not cold.
Not arrogant.
Terrified.
"Lyra..."
A crash echoed from somewhere inside my apartment.
Not from the living room.
Not from the hallway.
From upstairs.
Kieller shouted into the phone—
"GET OUT OF THERE!"
At that exact moment—
A slow clap echoed through the penthouse.
One.
Two.
Three.
I turned toward the staircase.
A tall figure stood at the top.
Completely motionless.
Dressed in black.
Their face hidden in shadow.
Only one thing was visible.
A silver ring glinting on their right hand.
The figure tilted its head.
And smiled.
"Welcome home..."
End of Chapter 70---