Lara could feel Anton Trillo’s gaze on her back the entire ti.
As though he was carefully studying every movent she made, weighing every word that left her lips.
"Miss Larissa Reyes."
Anton’s deep voice echoed through the chamber, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.
Lara paused and glanced back over her shoulder.
"When and how did you learn the ancient imperial language?"
The question caused Artemio Fuegerro’s eyes to narrow slightly.
It was the very sa thing he had wanted to ask earlier.
During Lara’s upbringing, he had personally overseen the tutors assigned to her training. Politics, etiquette, finance, combat, diplomacy, hacking—but never ancient imperial history.
So where and when had she learned this? He wondered silently.
And more importantly... what else had she learned without his knowledge?
A strange sense of foreboding suddenly gripped Artemio’s chest.
For years, he had believed Lara was fully within his control. Now, for the first ti, that certainty was beginning to crack.
Because there was no way she could have mastered such a difficult language within the few months after waking from her coma.
Not with that level of fluency. The way Lara had read the inscriptions earlier had not sounded rehearsed or morized.
It had sounded effortless. Natural. Like soone who had grown up hearing the ancient language all her life.
A cold unease settled inside Artemio Fuegerro.
Had she been studying all these years behind his back?
Impossible!
He had monitored nearly every aspect of Lara’s life. The phones she used—including her burner units—had trackers installed on them. Even her laptops had been under surveillance.
He knew the websites she visited. The people she communicated with. The places she frequented.
And yet... he could not rember exactly when her interest in Azuverdan history had begun.
That realization disturbed him more than he cared to admit.
Slowly, Artemio’s gaze narrowed as it settled on Lara’s back.
For the first ti in years, he felt sothing dangerously close to uncertainty.
You can never escape my control, Lara.
anwhile, Lara t Anton Trillo’s gaze with calm composure.
"I read a lot of ancient history books," she answered smoothly. "There are also several academic sites online that discuss the old imperial texts and symbols extensively."
Anton remained silent for a mont, his deep brown eyes locked onto hers as though weighing whether to believe her explanation.
Then Artemio stepped forward, intending to press Lara further—
But Anton moved first. Smoothly and deliberately, he stepped into Artemio’s path without even looking at him, cutting him off as naturally as breathing.
Then, as though nothing had happened, Anton slowly approached one section of the wall, his sharp gaze settling on the ancient carvings etched into the stone.
"These symbols," he said casually, "what do they an?"
Lara had no choice but to step closer.
The mont she did, Anton imdiately moved beside her. He was too close.
The subtle scent of his expensive perfu invaded her senses—a rich woody amber fragrance layered with citrus, spice, and warm cedar undertones.
It was refined, luxurious and dangerous.
In another life, Lara had personally blended perfus and taught them to the Gabriella ladies. They were for royalty and nobility.
Instinctively, she recognized the complexity of the fragrance in his perfu almost imdiately—the bright burst of citrus opening into powdery florals before settling into a deep, creamy woody base.
A scent carefully crafted to leave an impression. And indeed, it achieved its goal.
The corner of Anton Trillo’s lips curved faintly. As if he had noticed her reaction.
Artemio leaned slightly forward, subtly occupying Lara’s space as his fingers brushed against the ancient markings.
"Old religious symbols," he said with forced indifference. "Nothing significant."
His remark was too fast, too dismissive.
Then he slowly turned his head toward Lara , one eyebrow lifting slightly as if silently inviting her to contradict him.
Lara looked at the carvings again.
"These are not religious markings," she said calmly. "They’re the crests of the forr vassal kingdoms under the Azuverdan Empire."
Her fingers lightly traced one symbol.
"A similar set of carvings can still be found near the eastern gates of Heavenfort Palace in the northern sector excavation site."
"Larissa is correct, Mr. Trillo."
Dr. Grace Varona finally stepped forward, clearly eager to join the discussion.
She pointed toward one of the symbols on the wall.
"This one belongs to Northem," she explained. "And these others represent the allied kingdoms that once pledged military support to the imperial throne."
She continued naming the three other kingdoms one after another with scholarly confidence.
Behind Lara, Alia frowned slightly.
The renowned historian suddenly looked less like a respectable teacher and more like soone competing for the guests’ attention.
Anton Trillo’s gaze briefly shifted toward Grace. The intensity in his eyes made her instinctively step back.
Then he looked at Lara again.
A slow smile appeared on his lips.
"Thank you for the clarification, Dr. Varona," he said politely. "But I think I would rather hear it from this exceptional young lady."
His gaze lingered openly on Lara now.
"So young," Anton murmured, his gaze fixed on Lara. "Yet you know far too much."
There was sothing dangerous hidden behind his smile.
"And I just heard you spent the last year in a coma."
The chamber fell strangely quiet.
But Lara did not panic.
She t his eyes calmly and answered without hesitation.
"I started reading about ancient history when I was still in elentary school," she said lightly. "I had a lot of free ti back then."
Artemio’s eyes darkened almost imdiately.
Elentary school...
That was during the years Lara was sent back to the Reyes family.
At that ti, he handled overseas operations and, admittedly, his surveillance over her had loosened.
Only slightly.
Even then, he had left trusted n to monitor her movents and continued her training.
"I see," Anton said softly.
His gaze remained fixed on Lara—steady, sharp, impossible to read.
"No wonder you know these inscriptions by heart," he murmured. "Truly impressive."
There was no mistaking the interest in his voice now.
Behind Lara, Dr. Grace Varona shifted uncomfortably.
Her eyes flickered between the two of them, unease slowly tightening inside her chest.
Anton Trillo was paying far too much attention to Larissa Reyes.
And a man like Anton did not pay attention in people without reason.
A troubling thought suddenly crossed her mind.
Is he interested in her?
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