The soft echo of footsteps faded as the villa's double doors shut behind the two girls. With Sofia and Mia now gone, the room fell into a tranquil stillness. Only the golden evening light filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the elegant parquet floor.
Ken remained standing near the fireplace, a hand in his pocket, the other lightly resting on the back of the armchair. His posture, as always, was composed—but there was a quiet weight on his shoulders, something unspoken in the slight tension around his eyes.
Yelena stood across the room, her golden eyes softening as she watched him. Her earlier exuberance had dimmed the moment the children were out of sight, replaced by a more mature, serious presence. Even her steps, graceful as ever, slowed with intent as she crossed to him.
"You seem tired," she said gently, brushing imaginary lint from her dress. "how are you holding up?"
Ken gave a soft breath, almost a chuckle, but not quite. "You always do think you knew everything about me."
She tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging her lips. "I do. But you won't let me act on it. I'd smother you in soup and blankets if you did."
"I wouldn't," he replied flatly.
She sighed, melodramatically flopping into the nearest armchair with the elegance of a queen descending from her throne. "That's what makes you such a difficult little brother."
He sat across from her with a tired sort of grace. For a few heartbeats, neither spoke. The ticking of the wall clock, the rustle of the garden trees filled the awkward silence.
Yelena leaned forward, fingers laced together on her knees. Her voice lowered.
"There's… been talk. Since you brought Mia here. The family is stirring."
Ken didn't move. But the air around him seemed to shift. Denser.
"Who?"
"Some of the uncles. A few of the cousins. The usual vultures," she said with an edge. "They see you weakening your position—taking in a child with no announcement, not a word to the family... They smell vulnerability and opportunity."
Ken's jaw flexed. "Let them smell."
She shook her head. "Ken… you know how this works. Power doesn't tolerate uncertainty. Even now, one of the cousins is making noise about succession. The Patriarch hasn't spoken yet—but she's watching. You know how she is... Like a spider in the center of her web. Waiting to see how you handle it."
There was silence again. But this time, it wasn't awkward. It was heavy. Introspective.
Ken leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice low. "I didn't plan this. I didn't plan any of it."
"You rarely do when it comes to the heart."
His eyes lifted. And for a fleeting moment, something rare passed across his face.
"Lina… she's mine."
The words were soft, barely audible, but they struck with the weight of thunder.
Yelena blinked. "What?"
Ken nodded, his gaze distant now, like he was watching something only he could see. "I don't know how. I don't know when. But I know. She's mine."
Yelena stood slowly, disbelief and confusion swirling in her golden eyes. "Ken… that's impossible. We'd know, i mean... how even...?"
"I ran every test. Blood, DNA, behavioral markers. It doesn't make sense, and yet it's undeniable. She's mine." He hesitated. "And I think… I think she's been through something unimaginable. Torture. Conditioning. Weaponization. Her eyes don't belong to a child."
He closed his eyes for a moment. "I see myself in her. The silence. The restraint. The storm behind the calm. But she's colder. Like someone burned all the softness out of her."
"we think she was raised by someone as a weapon, maybe an assassin. i plan to ask but not now...?
"what...?" Yelena sat again, her voice gentler now. "How? Who would do such a thing?"
"I don't know. But I'll find out."
Yelena swallowed, her throat tightening. She could see the pain beneath his composed surface. And now, more than ever, she understood the depth of what he'd taken on.
"So… what will you do next?"
Ken's hands were clasped, head bowed slightly. He looked… lost. Not something she had ever seen in him.
"I don't know. I've always known what to do. Always been the one with the plan. But now… every move feels like a gamble. If I protect her too openly, they'll strike. If I keep her hidden, she'll never heal."
Yelena reached out and took his hand, squeezing it firmly.
"Then don't face it alone. You're not alone, Ken. Not with me here."
He looked up at her, eyes shaded with a rare vulnerability.
"Thank you, Lina."
Her smile returned, softer, warm. "You're welcome. But you're still not getting out of the tea party."
He blinked. "What?"
She stood, smoothing her dress and brightening like the sun breaking through storm clouds. "The girls are waiting. And I plan to dress them up until they hate me."
Ken gave a soft, amused sigh.
Yelena turned at the door, her tone airy. "Think about your next step. I'll be in the the guest room. Playing dress-up. And possibly being mauled by five-year-olds."
Ken was left staring after her, the echo of her laughter lingering.
He looked down at his clasped hands again.
Mia… what have they done to you? And what am I supposed to do now?
Outside, the wind stirred the trees, and laughter danced on the breeze.