The Laurent estate stood in the heart of the countryside — a grand, sprawling manor surrounded by quiet, mist-laced woods and hidden security finer than any government facility. For all its luxury, the house had never truly been whole.
Until today.
Seraphina stepped out of the black car, clutching her handbag tightly against her side. The driver, understanding without words, offered a silent bow and disappeared toward the garage. She was alone with her thoughts — and with the house that had grieved alongside them for eighteen years.
The ornate front doors opened before she could reach for the handle.
Her husband stood there.
Alaric Laurent, 54. Still sharp-eyed despite the streaks of silver in his hair. Still dignified in posture, even when every breath he took seemed to come slower these days.
He said nothing, only studied her face.
"I saw her," Seraphina whispered.
His lips parted — the smallest tremble. "Our daughter?"
Seraphina nodded, her voice breaking on the next word. "Aira."
For a full heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then Alaric stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her — something he hadn't done in public in years. She folded into him, and for the first time since her return, allowed the tears to fall freely.
"She's alive, Alaric," Seraphina murmured. "She's beautiful. Brilliant. Cold and guarded… but she's alive. Our little girl is alive."
He exhaled like a man drowning finally reaching the surface.
The sitting room was silent when the five brothers were called in.
Each of them had been pulled from their work — Elias from a business meeting, Cassian from the underground garage, Ronan from a secure server call, Lucien from his studio, and Evander from the rooftop terrace, where he'd been reading alone.
They gathered, tension thick in the air.
"Mother," Elias said first, his voice calm but low, "what is this about?"
Alaric didn't speak. He only looked at Seraphina.
And Seraphina — for once — didn't speak immediately. She stepped into the center of the room and faced them all with steady eyes.
"I found her," she said softly.
Cassian blinked. "Her?"
Ronan sat up straighter. "You mean…"
"She's alive?" Lucien asked, disbelieving.
"She is," Seraphina confirmed, voice cracking slightly. "I met her this morning."
A stunned silence fell.
Then Evander whispered, almost afraid to believe it: "Aira?"
Seraphina nodded.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Cassian sat back hard into his chair, a hand over his mouth. Lucien swore softly. Ronan reached for the nearest armrest like his balance had shifted. Elias simply closed his eyes — as if trying to contain years of grief behind his lashes.
Only Evander stood motionless. His hands clenched at his sides, violet eyes wide and unreadable.
"Where is she?" he asked hoarsely.
"She's… processing," Seraphina said. "She knows who we are. She's read your files. She's not ready to meet anyone yet. But she didn't reject us."
A moment passed.
"Did she say my name?" Evander asked quietly.
Seraphina's gaze softened. "She stared at your picture the longest."
That was all it took.
Evander turned and walked out of the room in silence.
He didn't speak again for the rest of the day.
But that night, when no one was watching, he sat in the library where she would one day sit — and whispered a name into the silence.
"Aira."