Mated to Three Handsome Nightmares

Lyra's POV

My hands shook uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face as I stared at the messages on my phone. This wasn't how I imagined the day before my wedding would be. My heart pounded in my chest, and a bad feeling settled in my stomach. I struggled to process the reality I was experiencing at that moment. 

"Why? Why me?" I whispered to myself, my voice cracking, but I couldn't find any answers. It all made no sense. I read the message again, hoping against hope that I had misunderstood, but the words remained the same, cutting like a knife: "I do not want you anymore. I am breaking this bond between us. Elise is the one for me, and I am going to be with her. She is having my child soon. Goodbye."

I dropped the phone onto the bed, my hands going limp. My breath hitched as I clutched my chest, feeling as if the ground was slipping away beneath me. The room seemed to spin, and I sat down, burying my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with sobs. 

That was all the message said. He didn't even have the courage to do this in person; he decided to end it over text. My fiancé eloped with my best friend the night before our wedding. How long had they been having an affair behind my back, while I was blissfully unaware?

"Lyra!" I heard my father's voice faintly as he climbed the stairs. My heart raced, dread pooling in my stomach. He must have heard what Jacob had done. He was going to punish me. "Lyra!" he bellowed, kicking the door to my room open, his eyes blazing with fury.

"No, Father, please," I begged, sobbing as he stomped towards me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and slapped me hard across the face, sending me to the floor. But he wasn't finished with me.

He yanked me up by my hair again, my body trembling as I struggled against his grip, tears streaming down my cheeks. I pleaded for mercy, knowing it was futile; this wasn't the first time he had done this, and it wouldn't be the last. "You have finally succeeded in disgracing this family," he snarled, slapping me again. I didn't really know exactly why he was beating me this time, but I didn't want to find out.

He shoved me forcefully against the wall, the impact going through my body as I slid down, tears flowing from my eyes. I was too afraid to look up, my body wracked with pain almost too intense to bear. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, throwing an envelope at me. Shaking, I picked it up and opened it, my hands shaking as I sifted through the contents, praying he wouldn't hit me again-but that hope felt like a dream.

My mouth fell open in shock as I scanned the document. To my despair, I realized I was six weeks pregnant, and