The word landed with surgical precision—clean, deliberate, impossible to ignore.

Lara felt it strike somewhere deep in her chest, a dull, spreading ache.

So that’s how it feels... hearing the truth said out loud.

But she didn’t flinch.

"A biological mother who was absent when the child needed her the most..." Lara paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to bite. Her eyes locked onto Moira’s. "Is no mother at all."

A breath passed.

"And those aren’t even my words."

A faint tilt of her chin.

"They’re Ares’."

There. Show me what you really are.

For a fraction of a second, Moira’s smile held. Then it cracked.

Not all at once—but in pieces. The corners stiffened, her eyes sharpened, and something ugly twisted beneath the surface.

"You..." Her voice trembled—not with weakness, but with barely restrained fury. "How dare you!"

She dares... she actually dares to throw his name at me?

Her finger shot out, accusatory, trembling.

"Do you think just because Shay likes you, you can insult me like that? Who does she think you are? A caretaker? A substitute? Temporary things shouldn’t forget their place."

"Yes." Lara’s answer came without hesitation.

Lara stepped forward—not enough to invade, but enough to press. Enough to be felt.

"I have me every right," she said quietly, "because her mother wasn’t absent."

A beat.

"And you don’t deserve to be called hers."

That did it.

Moira’s vision flashed white.

The restraint she had so carefully maintained—shattered.

Her hand rose before she even fully decided to move...

—and stopped midair.

Moira’s breath hitched.

Lara’s grip was firm. Unyielding.

Moira gasped, more in shock than pain.

"You bitch!" she spat, struggling against the hold. "Let go—you’re hurting me!"

Lara looked at her the way an empress might look at a disobedient court lady—cool, distant, utterly unimpressed.

"I’ll let this slide," she said softly.

A pause. Then, quieter—

"But next time... the slap will land on your face."

She released her.

Moira staggered half a step back, clutching her wrist, her breathing uneven.

Humiliation burned hotter than anger now.

This... this is unacceptable. She cursed silently.

Lara didn’t spare her another glance as she moved past.

"You—listen to me!" Moira’s voice rose, sharper now, cutting through the morning air. "You don’t get to walk away. Not from me. Listen, you’re done taking care of her."

Lara stopped.

"She needs to return to where she truly belongs."

The words rang out, heavy with authority—and something dangerously close to desperation.

Lara’s chest tightened.

It was the truth she couldn’t deny.

Moira was Shay’s biological mother. And she had every right to claim Shay. If she took her away, there was nothing she could do.

But when Lara spoke, her voice remained steady.

"She’s not an object you can return," she said. "She’s a child, with emotions."

A beat.

"A child who deserves love."

Moira’s eyes narrowed—just slightly.

The air between them grew thick. Heavy.

"And not someone you get to use for your ambitions."

That one landed.

Moira went still.

Just for a second.

Silence stretched between them.

Long enough to press against the skin.

Then—

"I am her mother," Moira said finally, each word carefully controlled. "How could I possibly use her?"

She gestured lightly toward the mansion behind them.

"Asher is her father."

A small, controlled smile.

"And this... is her home."

Her gaze slid back to Lara.

"So naturally, she should be with us."

Not you.

Us.

Lara caught it. Of course she did.

Every word was deliberate.

Every implication chosen.

"And Ares?" Lara asked before she could stop herself.

The question slipped out—sharp, instinctive.

For the first time—

Moira hesitated.

Only for a heartbeat.

But it was there.

Then she smiled.

Soft. Knowing.

"Ares is... Shay’s adopted father," she said carefully. "He cares about her."

Lara’s eyes hardened, just a fraction.

Moira noticed.

This time, she didn’t look at Lara with disdain but with interest.

As if reassessing.

As if measuring something newly revealed.

"You seem... very concerned," Moira said.

"I’m responsible for her," Lara replied evenly. "And I care about Shay."

A pause.

"Unlike some mothers."

The glare Moira gave her could have cut glass.

Then—

unexpectedly—

she smiled.

"Temporarily."

The word dropped between them like a stone into still water.

Lara’s breath caught.

Barely.

But enough.

Moira stepped back, smoothing an invisible crease from her sleeve, her composure returning piece by piece.

"I understand attachment," she said, her tone almost gentle now—almost kind.

Almost.

"But you should be careful not to overstep."

A pause.

Then, with quiet finality—

"It will only make things harder for you later."

Not a threat but a certainty.

Moira walked past her without another glance, continuing down the running path as if nothing of importance had happened.

As if this was just another morning.

Another conversation.

Another step toward reclaiming what was hers.

Lara remained where she stood. Still and silent.

Her hands slowly curled into fists—not out of anger but restraint.

Her nails pressed into her palms, grounding her, anchoring her to something solid. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Because if she let even a fraction of what she felt rise to the surface she might do something she couldn’t take back.

Because now...she understood.

Not vaguely but with a clarity that left no room for denial.

Some things were simply beyond her control.

No matter how fiercely she stood her ground.

No matter how much Shay clung to her.

No matter how right she knew she was.

Moira was still Shay’s mother.

That truth sat there—heavy, immovable, and worse—undeniable.

Lara exhaled slowly, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest.

If I hurt her...

Her fingers tightened.

If I push too far...

The thought didn’t need finishing.

Because she could already see it. Shay’s small confused face caught between them.

Pulled in a direction she didn’t understand.

And I’ll be the one who makes her cry.

That more than anything stopped her.

Her chest tightened further, something sharp and cold settling deep inside.

A realization. Not loud. Not sudden. But precise.

Moira wasn’t trying to take Shay back by force.