A knot tightened in Lyra's stomach as the media circus began. Harsh lights flooded the makeshift stage in the Thorne Industries atrium. She stood at the back, a silent observer amidst the jostling reporters and flashing cameras. Anticipation buzzed, thick with the scent of expensive coffee and fresh ink. Julian Thorne, impeccably suited, strode to the podium. His expression was a familiar mask of controlled calm, yet Lyra noticed the faint tension around his eyes. Blackwood’s insidious whispers had permeated the air, becoming tangible. Lyra knew what was coming. She’d heard it. The West Tower project, her mural, branded a 'vanity piece.' Questions erupted instantly. "Mr. Thorne, rumors suggest significant delays on the West Tower project. Can you confirm?" Julian held up a hand, a practiced gesture. "We are on schedule. Any reports to the contrary are unfounded speculation." Another voice, sharp and insistent, cut through. "What about the budget overruns? Are Thorne Industries’ coffers being strained by this… ambitious undertaking?" His gaze swept the room, unwavering. "Our financial projections remain robust. We are investing in the future of the city, not squandering resources." Lyra watched, a cold dread settling. This was the dance Julian performed daily. Deflecting, reassuring, projecting an image of unshakeable control. But she knew the vulnerability beneath. Finally, the inevitable question landed. "Mr. Thorne," a reporter with a smarmy smile called out, "many are calling the grand mural in the West Tower nothing more than a personal vanity project for Thorne Industries. An expensive art piece to distract from the project's true costs. What's your response to that, specifically regarding the artist, Lyra Dubois?" Lyra's breath hitched. Her muscles tensed. She braced herself for the dismissal, the corporate distancing, the polite but firm separation of 'business' from 'artistic indulgence.' Julian’s jaw tightened, a subtle shift Lyra almost missed. He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he surveyed the reporter. "A vanity project?" His voice, though calm, held an edge Lyra had rarely heard. It wasn't anger; it was something colder, more dangerous. "The West Tower mural, designed by Lyra Dubois, is not a vanity project," Julian stated, his voice gaining volume, each word clear and precise. "It is a cornerstone of our commitment to public art and urban revitalization." Reporters scribbled furiously. Lyra stared, utterly blindsided. "Ms. Dubois's work," he continued, gestures becoming more emphatic,

Chapter 17: Unexpected Defense