The dining hall of the Vale estate was all sharp edges and polished dominance. Every flicker of candlelight was caught in crystal and steel, leaving no corner unexposed.
Aresha Silas hated it immediately.
It was a room designed to leave no shadows, no secrets. And yet, the man at the head of the table sat cloaked in them.
Darius Nyx Vale.
She had faced kings, killers, and men who believed themselves gods. Yet his silence was different—deliberate, precise. It wasn't absence of words. It was strategy.
Saleena and Draven sat between them, the only anchors in the storm. Their laughter and mischief filled the cavernous room, clashing with the weight that hung between their father and the silver-haired stranger.
Aresha played along, even let Saleena press a honey-sticky kiss to her cheek, but her attention never wavered from Darius. His eyes never strayed far from her either.
He was studying her, dissecting her, searching for answers he didn't have.
"Tell me," Darius finally broke the silence, his voice low, even, but edged with steel. "Children do not simply… cling to strangers."
Aresha's silver gaze flickered toward him, cool as frost. "Perhaps they see what you cannot."
His jaw tightened. "What is that supposed to mean?"
She leaned back, calm, predatory. "Children sense intent. You fear I am here with some hidden design. And yet—your daughter tugs at my sleeve as though I were family. Your son watches me as if I am familiar. Perhaps the answer lies in you, not me."
It was a calculated strike, and she saw it land.
Darius's fingers tightened on the stem of his glass until it threatened to crack.
"Familiar…" he repeated, quiet, dangerous. His gaze sharpened. "Their mother. You look nothing like her."
Aresha tilted her head. "And who is she?"
The pause stretched.
Finally, Darius set down his glass. "I don't know."
The confession was stark, unexpected.
"They were left at my door four years ago with nothing but reports. No name. No trace. Only proof they were mine."
Aresha's silver eyes flickered, but her expression didn't shift. Inside, her mind burned. DNA reports. Children abandoned with proof of parentage. This was no accident—it was design. Vivian's design.
The realization chilled her veins.
But she could not afford to betray herself.
"You've searched," she said flatly.
"Every continent," he admitted. "Every lab. Every whisper of black-market surrogacy. Nothing. The trail ends before it begins."
He leaned forward, shadows cutting across his face. "And then you appear. Silver hair. Eyes like theirs. Reflexes like mine. And they—" His gaze flicked briefly to the twins, then returned to her, sharp as a knife. "—they cling to you as if you've always belonged to them."
The words lingered like smoke.
Aresha met his stare without flinching. She was used to being accused, to being dissected. But something about his scrutiny clawed deeper.
She could feel his suspicion pressing closer, a noose tightening around truths she wasn't ready to face.
She smiled faintly, a blade's edge of amusement."Careful, Mr. Vale. Obsession with answers can unravel men faster than ignorance."
Darius's eyes darkened, but he didn't reply. Not immediately.
The silence stretched, broken only by the clatter of Saleena dropping her fork.
In that silence, an unspoken vow formed.
He would find the truth. Whatever it cost. Whoever she was.
And Aresha, beneath the mask of composure, felt the first stirrings of danger she had not calculated for.
Not from enemies.
But from this man.