Yannis Fenn let out a low chuckle, the kind that sounded casual—but lingered just a beat too long, as if there was sothing underneath it.
"I ca here for you, actually," he said, his gaze settling on Scarlet with quiet precision. "Hope Hospital asked to check on your progress with your patient." A faint pause. Then, almost as an afterthought, "And while I’m here... I might as well look in on mine."
Yet his gaze lingered on Lara for far too long.
It was a harmless explanation.
Scarlet’s lips curved into a polite smile. "I see."
She didn’t press further. Instead, she moved gracefully to Ares’ side, her heels whispering against the stone path as they headed toward the gazebo—like she had always belonged there.
"Daddy!"
Shay’s voice rang out, bright and eager.
Both Ares and Asher turned at the sa ti.
For a split second, Shay hesitated—caught between the two gazes—before her little face lit up again.
"Um... don’t you think my dress is beautiful?" she asked, her eyes curving into crescents as she spun slightly, the skirt fluttering like a soft bloom.
Ares’ expression softened almost instantly. "Of course."
Asher crouched slightly, his tone dripping with indulgent warmth. "Darling, it’s not just the dress. Your face is even more beautiful."
Shay giggled, delighted, her small shoulders bouncing with joy.
"Then... Daddy Asher, can you take a photo of , Mommy, and Daddy together?" she asked sweetly, tilting her head just enough to lt hearts.
The air shifted.
Subtly but unmistakably.
The smile on Asher’s face froze—then vanished. What replaced it was not anger, but sothing colder. Sothing sharper.
Without a word, he turned, pulled out his phone, and placed it directly into Yannis’ hand.
"Can you take a photo of the four of us?"
His tone was flat. Decisive. Leaving no room for discussion.
Then he moved without waiting for an answer.
Not toward Shay. Not even toward Ares. But toward Lara.
He stepped into place beside her as if it was the most natural thing in the world—close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. Lara stood at the center, caught between presences that carried entirely different weights.
In front of her, Shay bead, completely unaware.
Behind that innocent arrangent, tension coiled like a drawn wire.
Ares’ gaze darkened.
He opened his mouth—to object, to correct the situation—
But in the end, he said nothing.
After all...
It was just a photo.
Wasn’t it?
And Asher was his brother, and Shay’s own father.
...
After breakfast, when the table had been cleared and the morning light had settled into a quiet, golden calm, Yannis finally spoke.
"Walk with ."
It was a request.
Lara felt the temperature dropped but still she followed Yannis after a mont’s hesitation
They moved toward the edge of the east garden, where the estate grew quieter—more secluded. The laughter from earlier faded into the distance, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant trickle of a fountain.
At the far corner stood a small arrangent: four wrought-iron chairs circling a low, round table. Dew still clung to the grass beneath the table.
The air slled faintly of jasmine and lavender.
Yannis pulled out a chair for her. Lara sat.
Monts later, a servant arrived, placing two cups of freshly brewed coffee on the table. The rich aroma curled between them, warm... but not nearly enough to soften the tension building underneath.
Yannis didn’t speak.
He simply watched her, observing her carefully, as if waiting for sothing precise.
Lara lifted the cup, took a slow sip—and then set it down with quiet control.
"I saw the photos," she said at last, her voice calm but deliberate. "And... I rembered so things."
Yannis didn’t react imdiately. He took a sip of his coffee, then placed the cup back onto the saucer with careful, almost calculated restraint.
"But the things I want to know..." Lara continued, her gaze sharpening, "...aren’t there."
A low hum escaped him.
It was a silent permission to continue.
Lara didn’t look away.
Her eyes locked onto his—steady, unblinking, almost confrontational.
"You knew before, didn’t you, Doctor Fenn?" she asked, each word landing with quiet weight. "Then why not tell ?"
A pause. The garden seed to still.
"Who am I... really?"
Her fingers curled slightly against her lap.
"What is our relationship?"
He leaned closer now and her voice turned Sharper.
"Who are my real parents?"
Her voice lowered.
"And why... are they only shown in fragnts? Half faces. Cropped mories. Like sothing you’re trying to hide."
Silence.
Yannis said nothing.
But the stillness around him shifted—like tension coiling beneath calm water.
Lara leaned forward, just slightly.
"Why do I have to take another girl’s identity?" she pressed. "Why Larissa Reyes?"
That—
That made him look away.
For the first ti.
Because if he didn’t... he knew exactly what might happen.
Her eyes were too clear. Too piercing. Too familiar and far too dangerous.
A slow breath left his chest.
He steadied himself before speaking.
"Yes," Yannis said finally, his voice quieter now. "We knew each other."
He paused, as if choosing how much truth he could afford.
"You used to get hurt often. And every ti you did... you ca to ." A faint, almost invisible softness passed through his expression. "I’ve known you since you were ten."
Lara’s brows drew together.
"That long?"
Sothing flickered across her face—recognition, perhaps or the ghost of it.
When she first saw him at the hospital... there had been sothing familiar.
Sothing she couldn’t place.
"Yes," Yannis said. "That long."
A beat.
"Then why didn’t you tell before?" Lara asked, her tone tightening. "At the hospital, after I woke up."
Her eyes searched his.
"Were we... not that close?"
Not close.
The words hit harder than they should have.
Sothing in Yannis’ chest pulled tight—sharp, unexpected.
He masked it quickly.
"It wouldn’t have been good for you," he said, his voice returning to its usual calm. Controlled. Professional. "So truths... shouldn’t be forced."
Lara studied him, unconvinced.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the coffee, then lifted again—more focused than before.
"So that’s why you gave the photo book," she said slowly.
A quiet realization.
"You want to rember on my own."
This ti, Yannis didn’t answer imdiately.
The wind stirred lightly between them, brushing past like a whisper of sothing unsaid.
When he finally spoke, his voice was softer—almost too soft.
"...mories that return naturally," he said, "are the only ones you can truly trust."
A pause.
Then his eyes t hers again.
And this ti—
There was sothing in them he could no longer fully hide.
"Because if I tell you everything..."
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