Lara swept into the room, her breath hitching as she moved to stand beside Ares. He was a pillar of controlled granite, though his hands betrayed him, trembling slightly as he lowered Shay's limp form onto the vast expanse of the bed. Against the white linens, the little girl looked hauntingly fragile—a pale, solitary figure caught in a sleep that looked too much like a departure.
The silence in the room felt heavy, pressing against Lara's chest until it was hard to draw air.
"I am a doctor as well," Yannis Fenn said, his voice cutting through the thick layer of dread.
Ares didn't speak. He simply nodded, a sharp, jerky movement, and stepped back. The space he vacated felt cold. He retreated into the shadows of the room, his jaw set so tight it looked as though the bone might snap, his obsidian eyes fixed unblinkingly on his daughter.
The nurse who was Shay's caretaker vanished into the hall, her footsteps echoing as she hurried to summon the specialists — the pediatrician and the oncologist.
"Her vitals are stable," Doctor Fenn announced, though the words did little to thaw the ice in Lara's veins.
Unable to bear the distance any longer, Lara reached out. Her fingers shook as they found Shay's small, cool hand and squeezed.
"Shay," she whispered into her ear.
As if reacting to a silent call, Shay's eyelids fluttered and drifted open. The transition was instant; the moment the girl's gaze locked onto Lara's face, the ghostly pallor of her skin seemed to recede, replaced by a radiant, blossoming smile.
"Mommy, you came back," Shay chirped. Her voice was thin, almost fragile, yet it trembled with a joy so pure it hurt to hear—like something precious that might shatter if touched too roughly.
Lara leaned closer, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "I only stepped out to get something from the store, sweetheart. How... how are you feeling?" She tried to keep her voice steady, but the jagged edge of her concern pierced through.
"I'm fine, Mommy," Shay whispered, nestling closer, her small body relaxing as though Lara's presence alone stitched her back together. "With you here, I'm okay."
"Shay, you terrified me," Ares said hoarsely. He stepped forward, and the rigid authority he carried so naturally crumbled, replaced by naked relief he made no effort to hide.
"I'm sorry, Daddy." Shay's gaze never left Lara's face. "My heart hurt so much earlier… I couldn't breathe." Her fingers curled faintly in Lara's sleeve. "But Mommy is back now, so I'm okay."
The atmosphere in the room shifted. Ares and Doctor Fenn exchanged a long, weighted glance—one filled with a clinical confusion, the other a father's desperation turned into relief.
Then it struck Ares.
Was Shay pretending?
His lips pressed into a thin line as the thought settled, unwelcome and sharp.
"Intense emotional distress can trigger fainting," Doctor Yannis said calmly, stepping in before the silence could harden further. His gaze flicked knowingly to Ares's face, where suspicion warred with relief.
He knew exactly what Ares was thinking.
And Ares hated that he did.
…
Three days later, the gates of the Zuvel's estate hissed open, admitting the sleek black Bentley into a world of manicured hedges and blooming flowers. Lara sat in the back, her fingers tracing the edge of the heavy vellum contract in her lap. It was official: she was the governess. But as she stepped into the cavernous foyer, the air didn't feel welcoming; it felt like a trap.
The sound of a shrill, high-pitched voice shattered the silence of the hall.
"Discharged? Without a word to me? Why didn't you wait for me to visit my grandchild?"
Standing near the grand staircase was a woman who looked like a sharp-edged bird draped in Chanel. This was Beatrice Torres, Moira's mother and Shay's grandmother. Her eyes, usually cold and calculating, were currently ablaze.
Ares stood opposite her, his coat off, sleeves rolled up in a rare display of domesticity that somehow made him look even more dangerous. "Beatrice, Shay has just been discharged. Don't cause trouble."
Lara's gaze shifted between Ares and Beatrice.
Is she his mother? But they look nothing alike.
Beatrice's gaze suddenly snapped to Lara. She took in the younger woman's simple dress, her proximity to Ares, and the way she held the folder that contained the contract. She was thin, but her beauty was undeniable. She was even more beautiful than her Moria.
Beatrice's face contorted into a mask of pure, aristocratic disgust.
"And who is this?" she spat, her finger pointing like a dagger. "The new 'staff'? Or another one of your little projects, Ares?"
Ares' fist clenched.
"Lara is Shay's governess," he replied, his voice a low, warning growl.
"Governess? Don't be absurd!" Beatrice marched forward, the click of her heels sounding like gunfire on the marble. She stopped inches from Lara, a cloud of expensive, suffocating perfume trailing her. "I know your type. I've seen them sniffing around this house since my daughter left. You found a sick child and a lonely, powerful man, and you thought you'd hit the jackpot, didn't you?"
Lara's eyes turned glacial, her tone carrying a heavy, unmistakable finality. "I am here for Shay. She—"
"She — what?" Beatrice laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "You've clearly spent more time studying the master of the house than the duties of a governess. Look at you—standing there with that wide-eyed innocence—" she stopped talking when she felt a cold stare bearing down on her. It wasn't an innocent look, but cold and unyielding. She stepped back. It was an involuntary action but she regained her poise soon after. "You're playing the 'Mommy' role to a child who doesn't know any better. It's disgusting. It's transparent."
She turned back to Ares, her voice rising in a crescendo of accusation. "Are you really this blind, Ares? She isn't here to teach her the alphabet. She's here to seduce her way into a Zuvel checkbook! She's using a sick child as a stepping stone to your bed!"
The silence that followed was absolute. Lara pursed her lips and clenched her fists. She did not know why, but she could not swallow the insults hurled at her. The weight of the accusation made the room spin.
Before Lara could take a step to deliver a slap to Beatrice, she felt something shift in the living room.
Ares's obsidian eyes went completely dark, the air around him seemingly dropping to freezing temperatures.
"Beatrice," Ares said, his voice so quiet it was terrifying. "Leave. Now!"