Accidentally Yours, My Super Rich Second Husband-Chapter 102: The Locked Door

The Harrington estate felt eerily quiet, its opulence doing little to hide the tension brewing within its walls. The long halls, lined with old portraits and fancy chandeliers, felt colder than usual. With every step, Helena’s sharp gaze and polished appearance radiated control. Her heels tapped loudly on the shiny marble floor, each step seeming to carry a warning.

She came to a stop outside a grand oak door. It was Lyvia’s room, and it had remained shut for the better part of the day. Helena’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the ornate brass handle, her patience wearing thin. She raised her hand and knocked firmly.

"Lyvia," she called. "Open the door."

There was no response. Helena’s jaw tightened. She knocked again, louder this time. "I said, open this door immediately!"

From the other side came a muffled reply, weak but defiant. "Go away."

Helena inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring. She had indulged her daughter’s tantrum long enough. Turning sharply, she motioned to a nearby maid who stood anxiously at the end of the hallway. "Fetch the spare key. Now."

She gave a nervous curtsy and rushed off, coming back moments later holding a small brass key. Helena snatched it without a word, inserting it into the lock and twisting it with a force that betrayed her growing irritation.

Slowly, the door creaked open, and a faintly lit room came into view. The room’s air was thick, carrying a hint of roses mixed with something old and sour. Helena’s eyes swept across the space, finally landing on the figure curled up on the grand four-poster bed.

Lyvia lay motionless, cocooned in a thick blanket, her face hidden.

Helena stepped into the room, her heels sinking into the plush carpet. She crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing as she approached the bed. "Lyvia," she said coldly, "enough of this childish behavior. Get up."

The blanket shifted slightly as Lyvia pulled it tighter around herself. Her voice, muffled and laced with anger, emerged. "Leave me alone."

Helena’s patience snapped. She reached out and yanked the blanket down, revealing Lyvia’s disheveled hair and tear-streaked face. The girl turned her head away, refusing to meet her mother’s gaze.

"Until when will you rebel like this?" Helena demanded, her tone icy. "Do you think locking yourself in here will solve anything?"

Lyvia finally turned to face her, her eyes blazing with defiance despite the redness around them. "Until Father takes back his words!" she shot back. "Until he fixes what he broke!"

Helena’s lips thinned into a severe line. "Your father did what was necessary for this family. Delphinia’s presence was a mistake from the start."

With an annoyed jerk, Lyvia sat up, her frustration clear. "A mistake?" she repeated, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Delphinia was the best thing that happened to this family! She was kind, intelligent, and everything an heiress should be!"

Helena’s eyes hardened, her arms tightening across her chest. "An heiress," she said sharply, "is more than just kind and intelligent. She must understand the weight of responsibility and uphold the family’s image. Delphinia failed to do that."

Lyvia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "No, Mother. You and Father failed her. You pushed her away, treated her like she didn’t belong, and now you expect me to just accept it?"

Helena’s composure wavered for a fraction of a second before she regained control. Slightly leaning forward, she spoke in a voice that left no room for argument. "Delphinia is gone, Lyvia. It’s your time to shine and take everything. You need to focus on your own role in this family."

Lyvia’s face twisted with a mixture of anger and pain. "I don’t want a role in this family if it means turning my back on the people I care about!"

Helena straightened, her expression as cold as steel. "Careful, Lyvia. You’re treading on dangerous ground."

An awkward silence filled the room, heavy with things left unsaid. She was trembling, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she glared at her mother. "I don’t care," she spat. "I want Delphinia back, and I’ll fight you and Father if I have to. She deserves to be here, not out there alone because of your cruel decisions!"

Helena’s eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. "You speak of deserving. Do you know what this family deserves, Lyvia? Strength. Unity. Not rebellion."

Lyvia laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp. "Unity? Is that what you call this? Forcing your decisions on everyone and expecting us to fall in line? That’s not unity, Mother—it’s control!"

Helena stared at her daughter, her mind racing as she tried to suppress the flicker of doubt creeping into her thoughts.

Finally, Helena broke the silence, her tone cutting and final. "If Delphinia isn’t here," she said, her voice voice was cool and firm, "then you will take her place as heiress. It’s time you stopped dreaming and started facing reality, Lyvia. This is your family, your responsibility now."

Lyvia froze, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at her mother, the weight of those words sinking in. For a moment, she felt like a child again, trapped under the shadow of expectations she could never meet.

But then, something inside her hardened. She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin defiantly. "If being an heiress means becoming like you and Father," she said quietly, her voice trembling with restrained anger, "then I want no part of it."

Helena’s expression darkened, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, her stiff posture speaking volumes.

As the door closed behind her, Lyvia sank back onto the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. She stared at the ceiling, tears pooling in her eyes but refusing to fall.

For the first time, she felt utterly alone in her fight, but she knew one thing for certain—she would not give up. Not on Delphinia. Not on what she believed was right.