I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father-Chapter 292: Your Grandmother Is Dead

"Please, ma’am, I am instructed not to let you leave the house. I can get you anything you need."

The voice came out of nowhere, calm and professional, and Lyse nearly collided with the broad chest that suddenly blocked her path. She froze mid-step, heart leaping into her throat as she stared up at the bodyguard who had materialized in front of her like a shadow pulled free from the walls.

She had been so careful. Levi was gone, she had watched his car disappear down the long, winding driveway herself. For a brief, reckless moment, she had allowed herself to believe that freedom was possible. That she could slip past the gates, breathe air that wasn’t filtered through Levi’s control.

I should have known, she thought bitterly. I should have known he wouldn’t leave me unguarded.

That overbearing, obsessive control freak.

Inside, her chest felt tight, emotions colliding violently, panic, anger, humiliation. But Lyse had learned something important over the past weeks: emotion was a liability. So she smoothed her expression, pasting on a pleasant smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"I just wanted to take a walk around the house," she said lightly. "I’m not even heading toward the gate."

The bodyguard’s expression didn’t change. Not a flicker of doubt or apology crossed his face.

"It would be my pleasure to escort you, ma’am."

Lyse blinked. Escort?

"Escort?" she muttered under her breath, the word tasting foul. Her fingers curled at her sides. She exhaled sharply, forcing herself not to snap. "You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I don’t feel like taking a walk anymore."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and marched back into the house, her steps heavy with frustration. The doors closed behind her with a quiet finality that felt far too loud.

A house, she had once thought.

Now it felt like a prison.

She climbed the stairs two at a time, fury propelling her forward, until she reached the master bedroom. The moment she stepped inside, her gaze was dragged, unwillingly, irresistibly to the table by the window.

The papers were still there.

Spread neatly, innocently, as if they hadn’t detonated her life.

Lyse stopped short, staring at them the way one might stare at a coiled snake. Her heart began to race again, breath shallow. Every word printed on those pages replayed in her mind, relentless and merciless.

Names. Dates. Medical records. Legal documents.

Proof.

She turned away abruptly and began to pace, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Back and forth. Back and forth. If she didn’t get out of this house soon, she was going to lose her mind. The walls felt closer every day, the silence heavier, pressing against her skull until her thoughts blurred together.

There were too many questions, and the answers were worse.

The worst part was knowing that the only people who could tell her the full truth were unreachable. Dead. Or trapped in a hospital bed, suspended between life and death, their secrets locked behind closed eyes and machines that beeped coldly in the dark.

Her steps slowed as a memory forced its way to the surface.

Ken Stuart.

She remembered his face, desperate, eyes too sharp with a truth she hadn’t wanted to hear. The way his voice had shaken when he told her he was her father. How she had laughed, incredulous, offended. How she had run.

She had buried his words deep, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, refusing to acknowledge what clawed at her sanity. She had told herself he was a lunatic, a man grasping at delusions.

But the papers on the table said otherwise.

By every indication, Ken Stuart was telling the truth.

And she, Lyse was the product of a tragic love story that had ended in blood, betrayal, and ruin.

Her chest ached as another truth surfaced, sharper than the rest.

Maeve.

Her mother.

A woman she would never meet.

She had been deprived of motherly love from the beginning, robbed of warmth and comfort and guidance. Ophelia had made sure of that. And even that theft hadn’t been enough. Ophelia still wanted Lyse’s life, as if her existence alone had been an unforgivable offense.

It was too much.

Lyse pressed a hand to her chest, fingers curling into the fabric of her top. The weight of it all threatened to crush her, grief and rage tangling together until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

She was still pacing when the knock came at the door.

"No, thank you. I’m not hungry," she called, voice sharp, not slowing her steps.

The knock came again.

Annoyance flared hot and immediate. With an irritated huff, she stalked to the door and wrenched it open.

Levi stood on the other side.

Perfectly composed. Impeccably dressed. A dark suit tailored to his broad frame, not a hair out of place. He looked like a man stepping out of a boardroom, not someone who had built a cage around another human being.

Her eyes betrayed her, sliding over him from head to toe before she could stop herself. When she finally reached his face, she found him watching her with unmistakable satisfaction, a slow smirk curving his lips.

"Like what you see?" he asked, eyes glinting knowingly.

Her spine stiffened. "What do you want?"

"Carlos told me you wanted to go out."

"Snitch," Lyse muttered under her breath.

Levi chuckled, low and amused. His gaze swept over her again, more thoroughly this time, as if cataloging every detail. Lyse became painfully aware of her appearance. Rumpled, tense, hair slightly undone. She felt exposed, unraveled. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"Go wear something," Levi said casually, already turning away.

"Why?" she snapped. "I’m not your doll. You don’t get to snap your fingers and make me jump at attention."

Levi paused and turned back, his expression unreadable. "I thought you wanted to go out."

Then he left, walking away without another word, leaving the decision hanging in the air like a challenge.

Lyse shut the door hard and leaned against it, chest heaving. For a moment, she considered staying put out of sheer spite. But the thought of remaining trapped inside those walls, alone with her thoughts and those papers, made her skin crawl.

With a frustrated groan, she pushed off the door and rushed into the closet.

Thirty minutes later, she emerged in a sky-blue sundress, the soft fabric flowing around her body. It felt light, feminine, a quiet refusal to be swallowed by the darkness pressing in on her life.

As she descended the stairs, she spotted Levi in the living room, standing by the table, a single sheet of paper in his hand. He didn’t look up immediately, and irritation flickered through her. When he finally did, his brow was creased, his expression grim.

"Your grandmother is dead, and she wants you at the will reading."