Lara woke just before dawn—like clockwork.
For a mont, she lay still, watching the pale gray light gather at the edges of the curtains. The first rays of sunlight hadn’t yet slipped through the narrow gap, but she knew they would. They always did.
Carefully, she turned her head.
Shay was still asleep beside her, small and peaceful, one hand curled loosely against the pillow. The sight softened sothing in Lara’s chest.
Quietly, she slipped out of bed.
Every movent was deliberate—silent. She changed into a light gray tracksuit, tied her hair back, and stepped out into the cool morning air.
The mansion grounds were vast, wrapped in early-morning stillness. Only the distant rustle of leaves and the faint murmur of gardeners at work broke the quiet.
Lara began her run.
One lap.
Then another.
Her breathing steadied, her body falling into rhythm—but her mind refused to follow.
Because she was looking for him.
Unconsciously at first.
Then with quiet insistence.
Ares.
They always crossed paths in the mornings—sotis just a glance, sotis a few words. Nothing significant. Nothing that should matter.
And yet—
Today, he was nowhere to be found.
No familiar figure. No silent presence trailing the edges of her awareness.
Just gardeners tending to the plants and guards patrolling.
Lara slowed to a stop.
Her gaze lifted—almost on its own—and landed on the west wing balcony.
Moira Torres’ room.
The curtains there stirred slightly with the breeze.
A thought slipped in. Uninvited. Unwelco.
...Did he spend the night there?
Lara’s brows knit instantly.
What am I thinking?
She shook her head, almost sharply, as if to dislodge the idea.
Shay’s biological father is Asher.
That was the truth.
And yet... the unease lingered.
...
The mory of the previous evening surfaced.
When Grandpa Randell and Asher arrived, Lara had chosen not to leave the room.
She didn’t belong in that reunion. She didn’t have the right.
A servant had co to fetch Shay, and Lara let her go without protest. She had simply asked for a light sandwich for dinner and stayed behind, alone with her thoughts.
When Shay returned later that night—
Sothing was wrong.
"Sweetie, what’s the matter?" Lara had asked gently.
Shay climbed onto the bed with a pout, her small face scrunched in frustration.
"Mommy Moira wants to go back to school," she said, clearly displeased. "She said I shouldn’t stop studying."
Lara blinked, mildly surprised—but not alard.
"And what did your Daddy Ares say?"
"Daddy said Mommy Moira made sense," Shay replied, her voice dropping. "He said I’ve missed too many classes... so tomorrow, he’ll enroll in a new school here."
Lara tilted her head slightly.
"That sounds reasonable," she said softly. "Why does that upset you so much?"
Shay hesitated.
Then her lips trembled just a little.
"Because... Mommy Moira said I shouldn’t sleep with you anymore."
Lara stilled.
"She said I’m a big girl now," Shay continued, her voice turning small. "And if I want to sleep with soone... I should sleep with her. Or Grandma Beatrice."
For a split second—
Lara couldn’t breathe.
So that’s how it is.
Not force. Not confrontation. But quietly getting rid of her. Carefully placed boundaries... that pushed her out without ever saying the words.
Her chest tightened, sothing sharp pressing against her ribs—but when she spoke, her voice remained gentle. Controlled.
"Isn’t that... a good thing?" Lara said, forcing a soft smile. "It’s a chance for you to get closer to your mother."
Even as the words left her lips, they felt wrong.
Like she was the one stepping back.
Letting go.
"But Mommy..." Shay protested, crawling closer to her. "I don’t like it."
Lara stroked her hair. "Why?"
Shay hesitated again.
Then whispered—
"I feel like... she’s just using ."
Lara’s hand froze.
"...Using you?"
"To get closer to Daddy Ares."
The words hit like a stone dropped into still water.
Lara’s grip on her phone loosened slightly.
"That doesn’t sound right," she said carefully, though sothing uneasy had already begun to take root. "Maybe you ant your Daddy Asher?"
Shay shook her head imdiately.
"No."
Her voice was certain.
"I ant Daddy Ares."
...
Back in the present, Lara stood motionless beneath the morning sky.
The air felt colder now.
He wasn’t on the grounds.
He wasn’t anywhere she could see.
And for reasons she refused to fully na—
That bothered her more than it should have.
...
Lara had just stepped onto the stone pathway leading back to the mansion when she heard it—
Footsteps.
asured. Unhurried.
Coming from behind.
She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Still, she did.
Moira Torres erged from the east garden path, dressed in a sleek running set that looked effortless on her. Not a strand of hair out of place. Not a hint of fatigue.
As if the morning itself adjusted to her presence.
Their eyes t. And for a brief second. neither woman spoke.
Moira was the first to break the silence.
"You’re up early," she said, her tone light, almost conversational. "I didn’t expect you to be the athletic type."
Lara held her gaze.
"I like to keep a routine."
A small smile curved Moira’s lips.
"Routines are good," she said. "They give people... a sense of place."
The words sounded harmless.
But they weren’t.
Lara caught it.
She stepped slightly to the side, intending to walk past her—but Moira moved just enough to block the path without making it obvious.
It was subtle and calculated.
"I spoke with Shay last night," Moira continued, as if they were discussing sothing trivial. "She’s a sweet child."
Lara’s fingers curled faintly at her side.
"She is."
"I told her it’s ti she starts sleeping in her own room," Moira went on. "Or with family."
A pause.
Then, gently—
"It’s important for her developnt."
Lara let out a slow breath.
"You an with you," Lara said evenly.
Moira tilted her head slightly, as if considering the phrasing.
"With her mother," she corrected. "...her biological mother."
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