28. Table of Questions
Lyra's POV – Suite 39A, Friday Night
She stood in the elevator, one hand clutching the edge of her coat. No one said it out loud, but every second between floors felt like prep. Like countdown.
When the doors opened, a man in black greeted her with a polite nod. "Ms. Elmont. This way, please."
The suite wasn't just a suite. It was an intention, dressed in soft linen and amber light. A long dining table stretched beneath pendant fixtures. Wine glinted in crystal glasses. Silver forks already placed.
Letizia Dorne sat at the head, sharp in a silk blouse the color of stormlight. No jewelry. No cosmetics beyond intent.
She stood as Lyra approached, offering a hand like this was a casual lunch and not a test written in posture.
"Thank you for coming," Letizia said.
Lyra nodded. "Thank you for the invitation."
"Sit. We'll eat. I dislike ceremony."
---
The first twenty minutes passed with careful distance. Weather. Corporate policy. Regional mergers. Letizia spoke as if she were collecting puzzle pieces, eyes always slightly narrowed, as though reading not just answers, but how they were delivered.
Lyra answered clearly. Never overplayed. But she could feel the currents. This wasn't about charm. It was a study.
At one point, Letizia refilled her glass, not with wine, but water.
"I assume," she said lightly, "that you're abstaining for reasons best kept off record."
Lyra's hand stilled on her napkin. "Yes."
Letizia nodded once. "Smart."
The meal continued. Courses changed. The tension didn't.
Finally, Letizia folded her napkin and said, "Do you know what makes someone Dorne?"
Lyra hesitated. "Legacy?"
Letizia smiled faintly. "Wrong. Legacy is what we carry. Being Dorne is about what we choose to risk for it."
She let the silence sit before adding, "Cassian wasn't supposed to lead. Not at first. He was too careful. Too controlled. But when the board fractured, he didn't just stabilize the company. He rewrote its spine."
Lyra didn't speak.
Letizia leaned back. "Now I see him shifting again. Quietly. Strategically. And every time he does, your name surfaces."
Lyra's throat tightened.
Letizia didn't raise her voice. "You matter to him. I've seen how he guards things that do."
"I never intended—"
"I know." Letizia's tone cut gently through the words. "That's what makes it interesting. You didn't chase this. But you didn't run either."
Lyra lowered her gaze. "It wasn't simple."
"It never is," Letizia said. "But now it's political. Which means it's never private again."
---
They stood outside under a glass awning, city lights soft behind them.
Letizia sipped her tea. "You'll need allies."
Lyra didn't answer.
"I don't need to know the full truth. I already know enough. You're not here for ambition. You're here because something deeper than policy pulled you in."
Lyra turned to her. "Are you warning me?"
Letizia's eyes held none of the warmth of her voice. "I'm asking what you want."
Lyra took a breath. "To survive this. To protect what's mine."
Letizia nodded once. "Good."
Then she passed her a small white envelope.
"For your doctor. Call the number. They'll walk you through registration under a sealed executive review path. It keeps HR out of your bloodwork."
Lyra blinked. "Why are you helping me?"
Letizia looked back at the city. "Because Cassian is my nephew. And you might be the only person he doesn't treat like a transaction."
---
The car hummed beneath her. She stared at the envelope in her lap.
Candor, not dress.
Letizia had made it clear. This wasn't kindness. It was an assessment. A weighing of risk and value.
But there'd been something else too. A glint of protection. Conditional, yes. But not cold.
She texted Cassian.
> Dinner's over. Your aunt is very good at dinner.
He replied almost instantly.
> Did she test you or terrify you?
> L: Both.
> C: Then she likes you.
C: Did she offer you a sealed file?
> L: …She did.
> C: Use it. Please.
> L: I will.
The screen dimmed in her hand.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time in weeks, she didn't feel like she was running