Percival's declaration hung in the air like thunder after lightning. The ballroom fell into stunned silence as his words registered with everyone present. Wife. He had called Lyra his wife.
Percival maintained his composure, his hand still firmly placed on Lyra's lower back. His touch anchored her as the storm raged around them. He observed the shock rippling through the crowd with cold satisfaction.
Eleanor Croft staggered forward, her face ashen. "Wife?" Her voice trembled with disbelief.
Percival nodded once, his expression giving nothing away. "Yes, Mrs. Croft. Lyra is my wife."
Lyra reached into her clutch and pulled out a folded document. She extended it toward Eleanor with steady hands. "Our marriage certificate, Mrs. Croft."
Eleanor took the paper with trembling fingers, her eyes scanning the official document. The date, the signatures, the seal—all legitimate. Her lips parted in shock as she looked up at Lyra, a thousand questions in her eyes.
