A Name Reclaimed

"Names are more than letters—they are blood, memory, and legacy. And hers was about to rise from the ashes."

The press conference had been scheduled for weeks.

Initially, it was just another "Velasco Foundation" update—a check presentation, a new education initiative, a couple of smiling photos for shareholders to applaud over their coffee.

But Lyra had other plans.

It was time.

Not to clear her name.

But to claim it.

To show the world that she wasn't hiding anymore.

She was returning.

And when the world finally heard the truth, it wouldn't be whispered behind closed doors.

It would echo.

Lucas paced in front of the dressing room, tablet in hand.

"The media team's ready. We've tightened the script. The board approved the talking points. Stick to the foundation's narrative—then pivot into the personal announcement."

He paused, glancing up.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Lyra met his gaze in the mirror as she applied her lipstick—crimson red, like war paint.

"I'm not doing this for them," she said. "I'm doing this for me."

Lucas nodded once, then stepped back.

And Lyra turned to the mirror.

Her reflection stared back in a white fitted suit—structured, elegant, unapologetic.

Her hair was pinned high. Her heels were sharp. But it wasn't the styling that mattered.

It was her eyes.

They no longer belonged to Elena Navarro.

They were Lyra Reyes's.

And today, the world would remember her name.

The press conference began at precisely 10:00 a.m.

The grand ballroom of the Manila Capital Hotel was flooded with media: flashing cameras, murmured gossip, editors live-streaming directly to millions.

Dominic opened the event with his usual calm power, speaking of education equity, rebuilding systems, and the importance of restoring trust in legacy institutions.

Then came the moment that changed everything.

"Now," Dominic said, stepping aside, "I'd like to introduce someone who embodies everything this foundation stands for. She's strong. Resilient. Fearless. And today, she'll speak not just as my partner—but as a woman reclaiming her story."

Lyra walked onto the stage.

Every camera turned.

Every whisper paused.

The room held its breath.

"Good morning," she began, voice steady. "My name is Lyra Reyes."

Flash.

Flash.

Flash.

It was a name many hadn't heard in years—one buried beneath tragedy, silenced by scandal, thought lost to time.

And now it echoed through marble halls, recorded in millions of devices.

Lyra continued.

"For years, I lived under another name. Out of necessity. Out of survival. Out of fear. Because when you're betrayed by the people who created you… the first thing you lose is your identity."

She looked directly into the nearest lens.

"And today, I'm taking it back."

She told the story without embellishment.

The engagement to Adrian Navarro.

The manipulation.

The fire.

The survival.

But she never used the word "victim."

Only "rebuilt."

Only "returned."

Dominic watched from the sidelines, his expression unreadable to everyone else.

But Lyra saw it.

Pride.

Respect.

And maybe even something dangerously close to love.

"I'm not here to relive the past," she said, voice growing stronger. "I'm here to reclaim my future. My inheritance. My voice. My family's legacy."

She lifted a folder from the podium, holding it up.

"These are the legal documents confirming my birthright. The Reyes Foundation, the Palawan estate holdings, the trust my grandfather left behind. For years, others tried to erase these records. They failed."

She set it down.

"I'm not a ghost. I'm not a lie. I'm not a scandal."

A pause.

"I'm Lyra Reyes. And I'm done hiding."

The applause started as a ripple.

Then a wave.

Then a storm.

Dominic didn't clap.

But he didn't need to.

Because the moment she stepped off that stage, she walked straight into his arms.

No kiss.

No speech.

Just a quiet moment where the world watched the Ice King bend ever so slightly… for her.

The internet exploded.

#LyraReyes trended worldwide within two hours.

Editorials were split.

Some called her "a phoenix in heels."

Others still whispered conspiracy.

But no one—no one—dared to say she didn't exist.

She had been seen.

And that was enough.

Back at the estate, Lyra peeled off her heels and stepped out onto the balcony, the Manila skyline glowing before her like a kingdom made of fireflies.

Dominic joined her minutes later.

He handed her a glass of wine.

"You just declared war," he said.

She clinked her glass against his.

"I've been at war. Today I just picked up the crown."

He smirked.

"I almost kissed you on that stage."

Lyra arched a brow. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't want to steal your spotlight."

Her smirk softened.

"You wouldn't have."

They stood in silence, watching the city.

And then, after a long pause, Lyra said softly:

"I thought once I said my name again, I'd feel lighter. Whole. But I don't."

Dominic didn't interrupt.

"I feel powerful," she continued. "But I also feel… unfinished. Like there's still one more door I haven't opened."

He looked at her.

"What door?"

She turned, eyes steady.

"The one where I stop fighting alone."

Dominic stepped closer, setting his glass down.

"You don't have to."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"I don't know how to let someone fight beside me."

"You don't have to know," he said. "You just have to try."

And in that moment, she didn't resist when he wrapped his arms around her.

She didn't hold back when he kissed her—not softly, not as a show, but deeply… like a man who finally saw all of her.

And was still choosing her.

Her name had been reclaimed. But her heart? That battle was just beginning—and this time, she wouldn't fight it alone.