CHAPTER 35: NEAR-PERFECT PROTAGONIST

Two days had passed since Kealith first opened his eyes.

The steady rhythm of progress marked his hours: short sessions of passive physiotherapy, guided stretches, careful breathing exercises, and the cautious food reintroduction. Broth had given way to oatmeal, and oatmeal to steamed fish in small portions. Though weakened from days of immobility, his body responded well—sluggish, yes, but not failing him.

The doctor still forbade him from walking without assistance. For now, the wheelchair remained his primary means of moving beyond the bed. But the stiffness had begun to ease, his muscles gradually remembering motion. Twice daily, the nurse helped him through repetitions—arms rotated, knees bent, legs lifted—until the strain in his tendons loosened. Sometimes Kealith gritted his teeth, refusing to betray discomfort, but more often than not he bore it in silence, his will hard as steel.

This afternoon the room was quiet again. Seliora had left less than an hour earlier, her voice brisk as she explained she had "a few things to wrap up" and a schedule to adjust now that he was awake. She had smoothed her son’s hair one last time before striding out, her heels clicking down the hall.

On the side table beside his bed rested the tools of the work he’d resumed just the day before: a sleek laptop with its lid half-closed, a tablet and stylus meant for note-taking, and a slim stack of printed documents clipped neatly at the corner. Even confined to a hospital room, Kealith had insisted on resuming his work, even if it was in bits.

Roy remained by the window, tablet in hand, glancing up every so often to check on him.

"Roy," Kealith said suddenly, breaking the stillness. His voice was stronger than it had been two days ago, though still rough around the edges.

Roy set the tablet aside and stepped closer. "Yes, sir?"

Kealith leaned back against the pillows, flexing his fingers once before resting them on the blanket. "My mother... she seems to be looking into something. Eric has been helping her gather information since I woke up, right? What has she been focused on these past two days?"

Roy hesitated a moment, wondering if he should tell Sir Kealith when Mrs. Asheborn hadn’t even told him, but then he decided to, because Kealith was the one who had hired him, so he came first, then his family. "Yes, she’s been... speaking frequently with Eric, sir, asking him to look into certain matters on her behalf."

"And what are these matters?" Kealith pressed.

"A thorough background sweep," Roy replied. "She’s had Eric pull everything together—daily movements, contacts, conversations, spending. Not just routine checks, but a full picture: who they meet, where they go. From what I’ve gathered, she wants to know everything."

Kealith’s gaze narrowed. "They? Who are ’they’?"

Roy swallowed, then spoke more directly. "Two people—both daughters of the Wrenford family."

"The Wrenford family?" Kealith frowned. "Who are they, and why would my mother be so interested in detailed information about both daughters?"

"From what I can tell," Roy said carefully, "she’s taken a particular interest in Erisia Wrenford—the biological daughter who was publicly presented as the Wrenfords’ ’lost-and-found’ adopted child."

Kealith’s brow furrowed. He shifted slightly, the motion restrained by the lingering weakness in his legs. "Tell me everything you know, Roy. This back-and-forth is irritating."

Roy bowed his head in apology. "Sorry, sir." Then he launched into the sequence: how Seliora learned about Erisia after Roy had rescued her on the night of the Altheorn family’s youngest daughter’s birthday and brought her to the hospital; the viral post; the pool incident and Sierra’s frame-up; Erisia’s counter—uploading the full footage exposing Sierra—and the subsequent online reaction. Then the recent car incident and the uproar it caused on the internet. He explained Seliora’s growing interest, how she’d decided she wanted to help, and how she ordered Eric to dig up everything he could on the situation.

Kealith exhaled slowly. "I see. If she doesn’t want to tell me, then I will wait. Still, it’s rare for her to show this much interest in someone regardless of their circumstances."

If he hadn’t heard about Erisia Wrenford without being aware of his mother’s interest in her, he would have dismissed it as just another rich family drama and forgotten about it. However, seeing his mother so invested in the situation sparked his curiosity about what specifically drew her to the issue and what actions she planned to take.

Roy said nothing; he simply stood at the bedside.

Kealith paused, then added, "Wheelchair."

Roy blinked. "Sir?"

"Bring it closer. It’s time for my afternoon session."

Roy wheeled the chair to the bedside and locked it in place. Carefully, he helped Kealith ease himself upright, supporting him as he shifted from the bed into the chair. Muscles trembled faintly under the strain, but Kealith’s jaw set firm.

Step by step. That was the rule the doctors had given him. And step by step, he would stand again—just as he had years before.

____

The city carried the hush of autumn evening, the kind that follows a morning of rain and makes you wonder if the storm had only been a dream. The sidewalks were dry now, leaves scattered in crisp russet and gold, the air cool and faintly sweet with the scent of damp earth. Streetlights glowed against the soft blue dusk.

Inside Germano Studios, Lyra stood in the vocal booth, a soft halo of amber light falling across her petite frame. Her fair skin caught the glow. Long black hair cascaded down her back in loose, wavy sections tied into neat bubble-like ties, the top braided and dotted with tiny beads that caught the light each time she moved. Russet-brown eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, gleamed with focus; full lips parted slightly as she exhaled, the faintest smile tugging at their corners. She looked every bit the modern muse—innocent, striking, and effortlessly beautiful.

A near-perfect protagonist for a dogblood romance novel.

The engineer on the other side of the glass raised a thumb, his grin wide. Lyra slid the headphones from her ears and rested them around her neck, settling against her collarbone. But before she could step away, the producer’s voice came through the speaker.

"One more take," he said, his tone light but insistent.

The engineer turned in his chair, eyebrows raised. "Honestly, that last one was close to perfect. Barely needs any editing—final steps will be a breeze."

"Just in case," the producer replied, still smiling. "Let’s give it one more."

Lyra met their eyes through the glass and nodded without complaint. "Alright," she said, her voice soft.

The track rolled in—dreamy, romantic slow R&B in a mellow A minor key. At seventy-five beats per minute, the rhythm swayed like slow rain, gentle and magnetic. The chord progression looped like a heartbeat, warm and intoxicating. Lyra closed her eyes and began again. Her voice floated over the chords, every note carrying an ache of longing. It was the kind of song that wrapped itself around a listener and refused to let go.

When the final note faded, silence hummed for a beat before the control room filled with soft, approving nods. The engineer flashed another thumbs-up, and Lyra emerged from the booth, headphones still draped around her neck. The producer pushed back his chair and stood, beaming.

"I was right," he said with a laugh. "That last recording—perfect. Back in the day we could’ve released it straight to vinyl as is."

Lyra’s smile widened at the praise. Since Agent Diane had first brought her here, every session had been a string of surprises. Her talent and humility were the kind that made people believe she could go far—with the producer always saying it, and she believed him.

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head slightly. She turned to the engineer and the assistants. "Thank you, all of you."

"Wishing you a huge single drop across every platform," the engineer said, earning a round of laughter.

"Dinner’s on me," the producer added. "We’re celebrating tonight."

Lyra smiled, then asked softly, "Where’s Diane?"

"He stepped out to take a couple of calls," the engineer replied.

Lyra nodded and excused herself.

~•~

Lyra made her way to the lounge. As she neared the door, she nearly bumped into one of the studio assistants—Nina, who handled scheduling and artist coordination—coming from the opposite direction, her attention fixed on her phone.

Lyra smiled brightly and called out, "Nina," stopping her before she walked into the wall.

"Huh? Yeah?" Nina looked up, eyes darting until they met Lyra’s exasperated gaze.

"Oh—Lyra." She chuckled. "You’re done recording?"

"Yes, I’m done. The producer said we’ll all have dinner at an expensive restaurant to celebrate." Lyra’s tone carried a soft amusement. "I was looking for Diane. I’m heading to the lounge to see if he’s there."

"Really? The producer said that? That stingy man?" Nina widened her eyes in mock disbelief.

Lyra laughed, her voice light. "Yes, he said that. It seems he’s delighted with the recording."

Nina rolled her eyes. "Oh, you mean he’s excited for the release?"

Lyra shrugged. "Maybe that too."

"Definitely that," Nina said, just as her phone chimed with a notification. She glanced at it, then looked back at Lyra, her expression tightening. "Right, Lyra, do you remember that car accident three days ago—the one people online were calling an attempted murder?"

Lyra’s smile faded. "Yeah, I heard of it. It must have been terrifying for the person who was almost run over. Thank goodness Cassian Rowe was there and pulled them—and their cat—away in time."

"Wait, you only heard of it? You haven’t seen it online yourself?"

Lyra shook her head, embarrassed, a faint blush creeping up her neck as she recalled how Asher had stayed with her all night in the new apartment when he found out about her mild fear of being alone in large spaces. "I’ve been busy...especially with recording my first single. Why? Did something happen? Have the authorities said anything?"

"Yes, something happened, and no, the authorities haven’t released anything. But there’s a new development."

Lyra’s curiosity stirred at Nina’s troubled look. "What happened?"

Nina opened her mouth, then shut it, scanning the hallway before gesturing toward the lounge. "Come in here. Let’s not talk out here."