Maria straightened, her gaze settling on the girls. She took a slow breath, as though steeling herself, then bowed her head.
Golden strands slipped forward, but she held her posture steady.
When she looked up again, her eyes were clear. Yet her fingers twitched once at her sides, the only sign the words cost her anything.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "for everything my sister put you through."
The room went still. No one spoke. The girls stared, each processing in her own way.
Aria tilted her head. "Sister?"
Maria nodded once. "Yes. Rebecca. Leviathan. is my older sister."
She laid it out plainly: the shared childhood, the slow fracture, the day Rebecca chose power over family.
No tears, no pleading. Just facts delivered in an even voice. Still, when she met Lucy's narrowed gaze, Maria's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second.
Lucy didn't blink. "And you never thought to tell us sooner?"
"I told myself it wouldn't matter until it did," Maria answered. "I was wrong."
