The next morning, Larissa awoke to sunlight streaming through the frost-laced windows. For a moment, it was easy to pretend everything was normal—that she hadn't seen the mirror shift, hadn't heard whispers in the dark.
But reality returned quickly. Lukyan's side of the bed was already cold.
She sat up, heart still heavy from last night's revelation.
Her whole life had been a fabrication. A child adopted under "emergency protocol"? A sealed identity? Her mother, Ekaterina, branded a traitor to the Order?
And Lukyan had known. Or at least suspected.
He waited eight years to tell me.
She wrapped her arms around herself. Was it out of protection? Or something darker?
She found him in the lower wing of the estate, giving instructions to Ivan, his most trusted staff member. The tall man glanced at her when she entered, bowed slightly, and excused himself.
"You didn't sleep," Lukyan said, not turning around.
"Neither did you."
"I couldn't." His voice was quiet. "I kept thinking about what else they hid from us."
Larissa stepped closer, watching his back. "You said your father was involved. Is he still alive?"
Lukyan's posture tensed. "No. He died shortly after I took over the hospital. Heart failure."
She narrowed her eyes. "Convenient."
He finally turned to her, expression unreadable. "What are you accusing me of?"
"Nothing. Yet." Larissa crossed her arms. "But if we're digging up the past, maybe we should start with the truth about your family."
Later that day, the estate was filled with quiet murmurs as a rare visitor arrived—Lara Volkov, Lukyan's estranged cousin. With her sharp cheekbones and long silver-blond hair, she looked like a statue carved from ice.
"You've gotten softer," she said to Lukyan, kissing both his cheeks. "The married life suits you, cousin."
"And you're still a snake," Lukyan replied with equal affection.
Larissa watched them, instantly wary. Something in Lara's eyes reminded her of a blade hidden in silk.
"This must be the wife," Lara said, turning to Larissa with a warm smile. "I've heard so much about you."
"All lies, I'm sure," Larissa answered coolly.
Lara laughed. "Only the interesting ones."
Dinner that night was filled with veiled jabs and laughter that felt too loud. Larissa noticed how Lukyan kept his expression neutral, but his eyes never left his cousin for long.
"She's here for a reason," Larissa whispered when they were alone in the hallway.
"She claims she's here for a visit."
"And you believe that?"
Lukyan didn't answer. But he handed her a folded note Lara had slipped into his pocket during dinner.
"You're not the only one keeping secrets, Lukyan. Ask her who she really is. Ask her what she saw in the mirror."
Larissa stared at the handwriting.
"She knows," she breathed. "She saw it too."
That night, Larissa sat in the nursery again, watching over Alina as she slept. Her fingers rested on the pendant around her daughter's neck—the one she always kept on, the one she had found among her mother's belongings.
She hadn't noticed before, but now… now the pendant glowed faintly in the dark.
And when she looked in the nursery mirror, she saw something that froze her blood.
It wasn't a faceless figure this time.
It was herself.
But her eyes were completely black.
She screamed.
Lukyan burst through the door, gun drawn.
Larissa was on the floor, shaking, pointing at the mirror. "It was me. But not me—my reflection. My eyes were black."
Lukyan looked into the mirror. Just his own reflection.
He crouched beside her, cupping her face. "You're being targeted, Larissa. Whatever's haunting you... it's tied to the bloodline."
She clutched his shirt. "Then we end it. Whatever this is, we end it together."
Lukyan leaned down and kissed her forehead. "We will. But you have to trust me."
And in that moment—dark mirror, mysterious cousin, a child glowing in the dark—Larissa knew the storm wasn't coming.
It had already begun.