After I Finally Became His Perfect Donna Chapter 08

After I Finally Became His Perfect Donna Chapter 08

The instructor’s voice continued on the other end of the line.

“Don, after you took Mrs. Voss home, she truly never returned. We were actually planning to contact you

tomorrow to confirm the next phase of her correction program…”

Dorian couldn’t hear the rest. The dread inside him was swelling, becoming unbearable.

Lyra never went back. How was that possible?

He’d watched her walk out the front door with his own eyes. Watched her stumble in her panic, pick herself

up, and keep going.

For five days, he’d been waiting for the Academy to call and tell him Lyra was begging to see him.

But not a single call came. He’d assumed she’d finally learned to behave.

“Dorian?” Mireille’s voice drifted from behind him, soft with a probing edge. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.”

She walked over and naturally took hold of his arm.

“Did the old Don give you a hard time again? Don’t take it to heart…”

Dorian wrenched his arm free so violently that Mireille staggered back two steps.

She looked up in disbelief, tears pooling in her eyes. “Dorian?”

But Dorian didn’t see her.

There was only one thought in his head: Lyra was thrown out of the Vane estate five days ago. She never

went back to the Academy. So where was she?

She had no money. No phone. No ID.

She had no one in Manhattan. Her parents were long dead. Every friend she’d had before marrying into the

Vane family, he’d cut off one by one.

She had nowhere to go.

“Dorian, what is going on?” Mireille pulled herself up from the floor, her voice thick with tears. “You’re scaring

me…”

But Dorian was already gone. He threw open the door and didn’t look back.

By the time he reached the NYPD precinct, it was eleven at night.

The officer on duty nearly jumped out of his skin. His hand instinctively went to his holster.

“I need to see surveillance footage.” Dorian’s voice was raw, but his eyes were razor-sharp. “Every camera

near the Vane estate, the last five days. All of it.”

“Sir, please calm down. Accessing surveillance requires…”

“I’m Dorian.” He cut the officer off and slapped a business card on the desk. “Dorian Vane. Vane Group.”

“If you won’t pull the footage, I’ll have your chief come down here and do it himself.”

The officer’s expression shifted. He hurried off to get his supervisor.

Fifteen minutes later, Dorian sat in the surveillance room, a wall of screens in front of him, fast-forwarding

through footage from five days ago.

On screen, Lyra was pushed out through the front gates of the Vane estate by the guards.

She stood at the entrance as if everyounce of strength had been drained from her body. Her shoulders were

caved in, her head hanging low.

Dorian watched her walk down the empty street, past darkened storefronts, across an overpass, through a

traffic light.

She walked slowly. Every step looked like it cost her everything she had.

At2:17 a.m., she reached the river.

The river was wide and deep, the current fast and merciless. On the screen, Lyra stood by the railing, gazing

quietly at the water.

Then, as if she’d made up her mind, she took one deep breath.

She climbed over the railing, stepped forward, and jumped.

The surveillance room was deathly silent. Dorian stared at the screen without moving.

The officer beside him cleared his throat and ventured carefully, “Mr. Vane, is she your…”

Before he could finish, Dorian’s body swayed. The color drained from his face so completely it was frightening.

The officer next to him reacted fast, grabbing his arm to steady him. “Sir! Are you all right?”

Dorian stared blankly at the screen. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

That was his wife. The woman who had stood before a priest and vowed, “For richer or poorer, in sickness

and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

The wife he’d told: “Go back to the Academy, or just go ahead and die.”

He gave her a choice. She chose to die.

“She she’s my wife. Could she have been rescued? There must be patrol boats on that river. Someone must

have pulled her out.”

Dorian turned and seized the officer’s arm in a death grip. “Tell me she was rescued.”

The officer looked at him, then looked away with something like pity.

“Don, we did recover a body from the river during that time frame. The estimated time of death… is largely consistent with when your wife entered the water.”

Every remaining trace of color left Dorian’s face.

“We posted identification notices citywide, but no one ever came to claim her.”

The officer paused. “The heat made it impossible to preserve the remains for long…”

“What did you do?” Dorian could barely bring himself to ask the next question. “What did you do with her?”

“Sir, please try to stay calm…” Another officer stepped forward, reaching for his shoulder.

“I asked you what you did with her!”

Dorian threw off the hand holding him, his whole body lurching backward two steps.

The officer looked at him, hesitating. “Unclaimed remains are cremated. Theashes are being held at the

funeral home for now.”

Dorian’s eyes were bloodshot. The room was spinning. The world had turned upside down.

Lyra was dead. Nothing left but ash.

“Don? Don!” The officer’s voice grew more and more distant.

Dorian heard a strange sound come out of his own mouth. It might have been a laugh. It might have been a

sob.

“Lyra’s dead. She’s dead…”

His vision went black, and he collapsed.