Lyra's POV
"What?"
I stared at my father, waiting for his expression to shift. For shock to replace that cold indifference. For guilt to finally crack through when he realized how heartless his words sounded. Nothing changed. Whatever compassion might have existed would never be enough, and that realization settled over me with frightening clarity.
"What I did?" The bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it, raw and cutting.
"Don't cause a scene here." His voice dropped to a threatening whisper. "This is our first time at an event like this, and I won't have your..."
He stopped mid-sentence. The unspoken word hung in the air anyway, heavy and unmistakable. I heard it as clearly as if he'd screamed it.
My gaze drifted past him to where Helena and Daphne stood across the room. Helena looked perfectly composed, wearing that serene expression that always meant she felt victorious. Daphne's lips curved in a slight smile, like she'd already claimed whatever prize she'd come for.
