Lila POV
I looked at Jasper, at the photograph, at the trashed art studio, and at the guards in black who moved like shadows in the moonlight.
’I knew I couldn’t stay here any longer.’
’I couldn’t face my uncle, Richard, not yet. Not these "relatives" whose true identities were a mystery.’
’I needed answers.’
’And at this mont, he was the one who held them.’
"Alright," I heard myself say. My voice was dry and hoarse, yet unnaturally clear. "I’ll go with you."
A flicker of light, faint but full of relief, finally crossed his eyes.
He lowered his hand, turned, and strode toward the black sedan parked at the corner. I followed behind him, my footsteps heavy but no longer hesitant.
The car door opened. He stepped aside, gesturing for to get in first.
I didn’t look at him, climbing straight into the back seat.
The car started, pulling away from Old Oak Street smoothly. Outside the window, the streetscape rushed by in reverse, the halos of the streetlights saring into blurry, wavering bands of light on the glass. I leaned back against the cold seat and closed my eyes, my fingers clutching the yellowed photograph so tightly my knuckles turned white.
’I didn’t know if I was heading toward the truth or into an even deeper lie.’
————
The car stopped outside the main gate of Moon Hidden Villa.
The wrought-iron gate slid open without a sound, the headlights illuminating the familiar fountain and the neatly trimd Rose Garden. Everything was exactly as I had left it: luxurious, opulent, and perfect to the point of feeling unreal.
I pushed open the car door and stepped out.
Just as I set foot on the steps, a figure burst out of the villa’s entrance.
It was Zoe.
She was wearing simple jeans and a white T-shirt, her hair thrown into a casual ponytail. Her face was free of makeup, revealing only a raw, intense worry that was practically overflowing. She rushed toward like a gust of wind, arms outstretched as if to give a hug.
"Lila! Thank God! You’re okay! Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?!" Her voice was on the verge of tears, every word saturated with genuine fear and the terror of what could have been.
I instinctively took a step back and raised a hand, stopping her arm before it could wrap around .
Her motion froze mid-air. The expression on her face solidified, shifting from concern to shock, then to incredulous hurt.
"Lila...?" she called out softly, her voice laced with a faint, almost imperceptible tremor.
I looked at her—at the bloodshot veins in her eyes, at the tips of her fingers, pale from tension, at the fine beads of sweat on her forehead. ’She was genuinely worried about .’
’But that worry was built on a foundation of countless lies.’
"If there’s a reason for to be here, then say it," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with . "If not, then I have no desire to set foot in this house of lies."
Zoe’s face went deathly pale. She opened her mouth, as if to say sothing, but ultimately just clamped it shut, biting her lower lip so hard it lost its color.
She whipped her head around and shot Jasper a venomous glare. Her eyes were filled with rage, accusation, and...sothing else I couldn’t quite read—a deep exhaustion.
"This is all your fault!" she shrieked at Jasper, her voice shrill. "Do you have any idea how badly you’ve hurt her?! Do you know that now the very sight of probably makes her sick?!"
Jasper didn’t argue. He just listened in silence, his gaze fixed on , his expression one of almost humble apology.
Zoe took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She turned back to , the fire in her eyes fading, replaced by a heavy, almost somber sincerity.
"Lila, listen to ," she said, her voice low but exceptionally clear. "We were trying to use Lilith to get inside your uncle’s house and gather information. We succeeded today."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over Jasper before landing back on my face.
"I was in the study at Lilith’s house and saw a safe. And that photo of the three of them. I tried to video call you, but you didn’t pick up, so I imdiately notified Jasper."
My heart jolted.
"He was in Black Water Town at the ti," Zoe said, a pained note in her voice. "He was tracking Derek. And... he was injured."
My gaze snapped toward Jasper.
He was still standing there, his posture ramrod straight, betraying nothing unusual. But now, it was as if I could see the bullet wound just below his shoulder blade, freshly scabbed over and still streaked with dark red.
"On his way back, while he was still injured," Zoe continued, her voice dropping lower, "the surveillance I secretly left at Lilith’s place showed that you had broken in. He was worried you were in danger, so he rushed straight over with his guards."
Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at . "I’ve honestly never seen that genetic matching report, and it doesn’t seem like sothing Jasper would do. Lila, he’s so terrified of you being in the slightest danger that he’d ignore his own injuries to find you. Please, can’t you just trust him one more ti?"
I stood rooted to the spot, my body rigid.
In the moonlight, Zoe’s tears slid silently down her cheeks, landing on the stone steps and blooming into small, dark patches.
I slowly lifted my head to look at Jasper.
He stood at the threshold between moonlight and shadow, one half of his face bathed in the pale glow, the other subrged in darkness. He offered no explanation, no defense. He just watched , his gaze quiet, yet holding a plea that bordered on desperation.
’Pleading with to give him one more chance.’
’Pleading with not to shut the door for good.’
My gaze shifted to the villa. The heavy oak door was shut tight, its handle gleaming with a cold, tallic sheen.
’Inside that door was Jasper’s world—a fortress he had ticulously constructed, layer by layer, with lies and truths. Outside was all I had left: my own fragile, crumbling clarity.’
Zoe stood beside , her shoulder gently brushing my arm. The faint warmth was like a thin thread, stubbornly winding itself around my cold wrist. She said nothing more, just stood with in silence. Her gaze fell to the hand in which I clutched the photograph, her eyes filled with worry and pain.
Slowly, my hand clutching the photograph began to relax.
"Take to the study," I said, my voice hoarse but firm. "I want to hear everything you’ve been hiding from ."
A flicker of light—faint, but undeniably real—finally ignited in Jasper’s eyes.
He didn’t speak, but simply turned to the side and gestured for to go ahead.
————
The hinges of the study door let out the faintest CREAK, like a sigh.
Beyond the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows lay the quiet of the night. Jasper stood behind a wide mahogany desk.
He had taken off the black tactical jacket, stained with night dew and blood. He now wore only a solid black turtleneck that made the line of his jaw look even colder and harder. The handprint on his face had faded considerably, and the blood at the corner of his mouth had dried into a faint brown mark.
He didn’t look at . Instead, he gently placed a thin sheet of paper in the center of the desk.
The text on the paper was clear: a printed school file.
"These are your father’s and your uncle’s university records," he said, his voice low but exceptionally steady. "Your father and your uncle, Richard, were classmates. They both pursued a dual degree in Finance and Law at Saint Claire University."
I walked over to the desk, my gaze falling upon the paper.
Sure enough, my father’s na, Thomas Bennett, and my uncle’s, Richard Thorne, appeared side-by-side on the list of graduates for the sa year. My mother’s na, however, was nowhere on the file.
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