The shadow wife

I felt like I was drowning in a sea of pain and emotions. The car ride back to the Smith's mansion was a blur. I couldn't shake off the memories of Reginald's cruel hands on me, his voice, his lips, his... I shuddered, trying to push the thoughts away.

James's concerned face hovered above me as he helped me out of the car. I winced, my body screaming in protest. Mrs Smith's voice was a distant hum, ordering James to take me to the hospital.

I felt like I was outside my body, watching myself stumble through the motions. The hospital was a haze of beeping machines and antiseptic smells.

I stared blankly at the hospital ceiling, my mind reeling with the events of the past few hours. Reginald's face haunted me, his charming smile twisted into a cruel sneer. I felt dirty, used, and broken. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I couldn't believe he'd done this to me. He was supposed to be a respected member of society, a man of wealth and influence. But beneath the façade, he was a monster.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence. James entered, followed by a camera-wielding man. "Lyra, I'm so sorry," James said, his eyes filled with concern. "We need to document what happened. This will be evidence against Reginald."

The camera man began snapping photos of my battered body, my bruised face, and my torn clothes. I felt a surge of embarrassment, but James reassured me, "This will help bring Reginald to justice."

As the camera man worked, James explained that they'd use these photos to build a case against Reginald. They'd expose him for the monster he was, and he'd face the consequences.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief. How could Reginald do this? How could he hurt me so badly and still manage to smile, to pretend like nothing was wrong? Was it just me or is he like this with every other woman?

The camera man finished, and James dismissed him. As the door closed, James turned to me, his eyes filled with compassion. "You'll get through this, Lyra. I promise you'll get justice for what he has done to you"

I didn't respond to him I just lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as he left and the doctor and nurses tended to my wounds.

I had to hold on to my anger, to let it fuel me. I couldn't let Reginald win. I couldn't let him break me.

But for now, I just lay there, numb and hurting, trying to make sense of the shattered pieces of my soul.

James's POV

I sat in my mother's study, going over the final details for the gala. Lyra had agreed to be our spy, and I was confident tho a bit skeptical she'd gather valuable information and plant the bugs in the right places. But as I glanced at my watch, a nagging sense of unease crept in.

Our bodyguard, Marcus, had just reported that Lyra had left the gala with Reginald, and was at his nightclub, "Eclipse." I frowned, feeling a pang of concern. This wasn't part of the plan.

And then, to make matters worse, Anderson walked into the study, a curious expression on his face. "Mother, I need to ask you something," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I saw Lyra at Reginald's club tonight. What's going on?"

My mother's expression remained calm, but I detected a hint of tension in her voice. "What makes you think we're involved, Anderson?"

Anderson's eyes locked onto mine, suspicion simmering beneath the surface. "I know you're hiding something, James. And I'm going to find out what it is."

I forced a neutral smile, trying to deflect his suspicions. But inside, I was concerned and confused. How much did Anderson know? And what would he do if he discovered our plan?

My mother leaned back in her chair, a calculating glint in her eye. "Anderson, dear, you're so naive. Lyra is a gold digger, a whore. She's been playing both you, using her charms to get what she wants."

I stood frozen, watching the argument unfold between my mother and Anderson. My mother's words were laced with venom, her eyes glinting with a calculating intensity.

Anderson's face reddened with anger. "That's not true! Lyra is a good person, she doesn't deserve to be spoken about like that."

Mrs. Smith's expression turned icy her gaze locked onto Anderson, her eyes flashing with anger. "Don't be foolish, Anderson. Lyra has made it clear she's only interested in one thing: becoming a part of a prestigious family. And since neither of my sons was willing to give her what she wanted, she's moved on to Reginald."

"That's not true!" Anderson shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "Lyra would never do that!"

I watched in discomfort as the argument escalated. I have never seen my mother and brother at odds like this before.

Anderson's voice cracked with emotion. "You're just using Lyra for your own purposes, aren't you? You're manipulating her, just like you always do with everyone else."

My mother's face snapped with anger, her expression still icy, her voice dripping with malice. "How dare you! I'm only looking out for our family's best interests."

Anderson's eyes blazed with accusation. "If anything happens to Lyra, I'll never forgive you. Never."

The room fell silent, the tension between them almost palpable. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, unsure how to intervene. My mother's words had struck a chord, but Anderson's anger and concern for Lyra were equally valid.

I stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Anderson's shoulder. "Hey, calm down. Let's talk about this."

Anderson shook me off, his eyes still blazing with anger. "You and mother are behind this, aren't you? You're using Lyra for your own purposes."

I held up my hands, trying to placate him. "Anderson, listen to me. We just want to protect our family's interests. Lyra is... complicated."

Anderson's gaze narrowed. "What's going on with you and Lyra, James? You've been acting strange around her, and now mother is accusing her of being a gold digger. What do you know?"

I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Nothing's going on between us, Anderson. I swear. But... I do know that Lyra is in a difficult situation. And we're trying to help her."

Anderson's eyes searched mine, as if trying to read between the lines. "You're not telling me the truth, James. And I know mother isn't either. You're both hiding something."

I sighed, trying to reason with him. "Anderson, please. Just calm down and let's talk about this rationally."

But Anderson's expression only hardened. "I won't calm down until I know Lyra is safe. And I know you and mother have something to do with her being linked to Reginald. That evil bastard"

Anderson stormed out of the room, leaving my mother and me in an uncomfortable silence. My mother called after him, but he didn't respond.

I sighed, feeling a mix of concern and frustration. This wasn't going to end well.

"I'll go look for him," I said, already heading for the door.

My mother nodded, her expression worried. "Be careful, Son."

I nodded and left the mansion, heading to the club where Anderson had last been seen. But when I arrived, the bouncer told me that Anderson, Reginald, and Lyra had all left.

I spotted my bodyguard, Marcus, standing outside the club. "Marcus, have you seen Anderson?" I asked.

Marcus shook his head. "No, sir. Lyra moved to Reginald's house with him, but I haven't seen Anderson."

My gut tightened with concern. What was Anderson getting himself into?

"Send one or two of our men to keep an eye on Reginald's house," I instructed Marcus. "And let me know if you see Anderson."

Marcus nodded, and I headed back to the mansion, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

I tried calling Anderson's number, but it went straight to voicemail. I cursed under my breath, worried that he'd do something reckless. And to make matters worse, Lyra didn't have a phone on her, so I had no way of reaching her.

My mind was racing with worst-case scenarios. What if Anderson confronted Reginald? What if Lyra got caught? What if our plan was jeopardized?

I barely slept that night, my anxiety spiking with every passing hour.

First thing in the morning, I sent Marcus, my bodyguard, to Reginald's house to keep an eye on Lyra. I instructed him to be discreet, but to intervene if necessary.

A few hours later, Marcus called me, his voice low and urgent. "Sir, we've found Lyra. She's with us, and we're heading back to the house."

My heart racing, I asked, "Is she okay?"

Marcus hesitated before responding, "She's been beaten up pretty badly, sir. But she's alive."

I felt a wave of relief wash over me, followed by a surge of anger. Reginald was really a beast

I turned to my mother, who was standing in the doorway, her expression cold and calculating. "Lyra's on her way here," I told her.

She nodded, her eyes narrowing. "Good. I want to see her."

When Lyra arrived, I was shocked by her appearance. Her face was bruised, her lip split, and her clothes torn. My mother's expression didn't change, but I could sense a flicker of surprise behind her eyes.

"Is she alive?" my mother asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

I nodded, feeling a bit of anger at her callousness. "Yes, she's alive."

My mother turned to me, her eyes cold. "Take her to the hospital. Now."

I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. I helped Lyra into the car, trying not to hurt her further.

As I drove Lyra to the hospital, I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment. I wasn't as concerned about her well-being as I should have been. She was just a pawn in our game, after all.

My phone rang, breaking the silence. It was my mother.

"James, I've received word that Reginald's house has been successfully bugged," she said, her voice crisp and efficient. "Step two of our plan is in check."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "Good. What's the next step?"

"I want you to get evidence of Reginald's wrongdoings," she instructed. "Use Lyra's... situation to our advantage. Get her to talk, to reveal anything she might know."

I glanced at Lyra, who was sitting quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the floor and is visibly in pain.

"Don't worry, Mother," I said. "I'll take care of it."

My mother's voice was cold and calculating. "See that you do, James. We can't afford to have anything go wrong now."

The line went dead, and I focused on the road ahead, my mind already turning over the possibilities.

As we arrived at the hospital, I quickly got out of the car and helped Lyra out. She winced in pain, and I felt a slight pang of guilt. But I pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number, contacting a cameraman I had on standby. "I need you to meet me at the hospital," I instructed. "I have a situation here that needs to be documented."

The cameraman arrived quickly, and I instructed him to take pictures and videos of Lyra's battered face and body. He worked efficiently, capturing every angle, every bruise.

I watched, detached, as the cameraman worked. This was just a means to an end. Evidence of Reginald's brutality would come in handy later. I promised Lyra she'll get justice for this.

With the documentation complete, I nodded at the cameraman. "Good work. Send the footage to my mother."

He nodded and left, leaving me alone with Lyra. I looked at her, feeling nothing but a sense of satisfaction that our plan was moving forward.

And with that, I turned and walked away, leaving Lyra to her treatment.