Guarding the Virgin

Chapter 19

Lyra’s POV

The text from Donovan came at seven in the morning.

My office. Urgent. Come alone.

I stared at it, stomach churning with more than just morning sickness. Something about the message felt different—no friendly greeting, no polite request. Just a command.

I thought about telling Ashton. But at the same time, I also needed answers. And Donovan had been the only one willing to give them.

I slipped out before Angel woke and made my way across the empty campus.

Donovan's office felt colder today. He didn't rise to greet me, didn't offer coffee. Just gestured to the chair with a gravity that made my skin prickle.

"Thank you for coming." His voice was hushed, urgent. "Lyra, I need you to brace yourself. What I found out... I still can't believe it myself."

I sat slowly, hands folded over my stomach. "What is it?"

He ran a hand through his silver hair, looking genuinely shaken. "After our last conversation, I couldn't let it go. The gaps in Jennings's history. The way things didn't add up. So I dug deeper. Called in favors. Followed threads I probably shouldn't have followed." He pulled a thick folder from his drawer and set it on the desk. "What I found... Lyra, this changes everything."

"Just tell me."

He opened the folder, his hands not quite steady. "Your father. I told you I knew him years ago, that we moved in similar circles. What I didn't tell you—what I didn't know until now—is what those circles really were."

He paused, meeting my eyes. "Your father isn't a CEO, Lyra. The company, the business trips, the legitimate empire he's built—it's all a front. Kian Morris runs one of the most powerful criminal organizations on the East Coast."

The words didn't make sense at first. They bounced around my skull like foreign objects, refusing to settle into meaning.

"That's insane." I shook my head. "My father is a businessman. He's cold and distant and terrible at being a parent, but he's not—" My voice caught. "He's not a criminal."

Donovan slid the folder toward me. "I wish I was wrong. Look for yourself."

My hands trembled as I opened it. Inside were photographs—my father with men I didn't recognize, exchanging briefcases in parking garages, shaking hands outside warehouses. Documents with his signature on shipping manifests listing contents I couldn't understand. News clippings about unsolved murders in cities where his company had offices.

The evidence was overwhelming. Undeniable. And it rewrote everything I thought I knew about my life.

"I don't understand," I whispered. "Why would he—"

"Hide it from you? To protect you. To keep you separate from his world." Donovan's voice was almost gentle. "But there's more, Lyra. And this part is harder."

He reached across the desk and took my hand, his grip warm and fatherly.

"Your mother. You were told she died in a car accident when you were four. That was a lie."

The room tilted.

"Your mother was murdered. By a rival organization that's been at war with your father for twenty years. They killed her to send a message." Donovan squeezed my hand. "The same people who killed your mother are the ones watching you now. You're not paranoid, Lyra. You're a target."

I couldn't breathe. My mother's face swam through my memory—soft hands, a warm laugh, the smell of jasmine perfume. Murdered. Not an accident. Someone killed her, and my father had been lying about it for fifteen years.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Donovan's expression shifted, hardening into something more serious. "Because you need to understand what's at stake before I show you the rest."

He pulled another folder from the drawer, this one thinner but somehow more ominous. "When I started investigating your father's background, I found connections I wasn't expecting. Connections to Coach Jennings."

My heart stopped.

He opened the folder and spread its contents across the desk. Photographs. Ashton meeting with men in dark suits outside a warehouse. Ashton exchanging an envelope with someone I didn't recognize. Ashton's face captured through a car window, talking on the phone, his expression hard and secretive.

And documents—pages of communications, partial transcripts, my name highlighted in yellow over and over again.

"I don't know exactly what Jennings's role is," Donovan said quietly. "But these men he's meeting with? They work for the organization that killed your mother. I've confirmed it." He tapped one of the photographs. "He's been feeding them information about you for months. Your schedule, your routines, your vulnerabilities. Every time something changed, they knew. Because he told them."

"No." The word came out broken. "No, that's not—he wouldn't—"

"I don't know why he's doing it. Money, maybe. A better offer from the other side. Men like him—whoever he really is—they don't have loyalty. They have prices."

Donovan leaned forward. "Think about it, Lyra. He appeared out of nowhere. He inserted himself into your life. He's been watching you obsessively since day one." His voice dropped. "And unless I'm very wrong about those looks between you two... he seduced you."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"He got close to you. Made you trust him completely." Donovan's eyes held mine. "What better way to get to your father than through you? You're not just a target anymore, Lyra. You're a weapon."

The baby. Our baby. The child growing inside me, created in what I thought was passion but might have been manipulation.

I was going to be sick.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, breathing through the nausea, refusing to break down in front of him.

"What do I do?" I managed. "How do I—"

"I can help you." Donovan's voice was firm now, decisive. "If you file a formal complaint against him—inappropriate conduct with a student, abuse of his position—I'll have grounds to fire him immediately. He'll be escorted off campus today and banned from returning. And you'll be safe from whoever he really is."

I should think about this. I should talk to Ashton, confront him, give him a chance to explain.

But the evidence was right there in front of me. And it connected to everything I'd been afraid to ask. The gaps in his history. The sealed records. The anonymous photographs slipped under my door. The note asking who he really reports to.

I thought of him saying "I would kill anyone who hurt you," and wondered if that was love or just a very convincing lie.

"What do I have to do?" I heard myself ask.

Donovan slid a paper across the desk. "Sign this. It's a formal statement describing inappropriate advances from Coach Jennings. I'll handle the rest."

I stared at the document, my vision blurring. This morning I woke up believing Ashton was the father of my child, my protector, maybe even the man I was falling in love with.

Now I was signing a document to have him removed from my life forever.

My hand shook as I picked up the pen.

I thought of his face when he told me about owing my father everything. The tenderness in his voice when he promised not to leave. The way he asked for my choice instead of making decisions for me.

And then I thought of my mother, murdered by people Ashton might be working for. I thought of the baby inside me, potentially fathered by a traitor. I thought of all the lies my life had been built on.

I signed my name.

Donovan took the paper with something that might be satisfaction. "You did the right thing. Go back to your dorm. Stay there today. By this evening, Ashton Jennings will be gone."

I nodded numbly and stood on legs that felt like water.

At the door, I paused. "The people who killed my mother. Are they going to come for me?"

Donovan's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Not anymore. I'll make sure of it."

I walked across campus in a daze, the morning sun too bright, the birdsong too loud. I'd just betrayed the man who might be the father of my child based on evidence provided by someone I barely knew.

I should feel relieved. Protected.

Instead, I felt like I'd just made the worst mistake of my life. And there was no way to take it back.