The air in the Levistis Manor was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Adrian stood just outside the drawing room, a porcelain mug clutched between his fingers. He didn't remember making the tea. It had long gone cold, forgotten in the storm of thoughts weighing him down.
Behind the tall carved doors, Jesper and Cain waited. His parents. His blood.
He had grown up with another name, under a different roof, in the cruel care of the Hudel family. But the truth — that he was Jesper's son, the youngest child stolen before he could even speak — changed everything and nothing at once.
He took a breath.
Then entered the room.
Jesper turned first. Silver eyes, so like Adrian's, filled with a sorrow older than time. His long blond hair was tied back loosely, age barely touching his features despite the decades gone.
Adrian's throat closed up.
"Dad," he said softly.
Jesper inhaled sharply and took a step forward, then another — hesitant, as if afraid Adrian might disappear.
