Chapter 2 Eyes That Hide

The morning light seeped through the velvet curtains of the mansion like a slow whisper-golden, gentle, and deceivingly calm. The scent of roasted coffee drifted through the kitchen, mingling with the faint traces of lavender that still clung to the furniture from the cleaner's work the night before.

Ava sat at the breakfast table, hands wrapped around a lukewarm porcelain cup. She hadn't taken a sip. The bitter aroma reminded her too much of home... and yet, nothing here felt familiar anymore.

Across the table sat Elena-her father's second wife. Polished, poised, and utterly unreadable. She scrolled silently through her phone, one manicured nail tapping the glass screen with a rhythm that grated on Ava's nerves.

Ava stole a glance at her.

Not even a strand of Elena's sleek chestnut hair was out of place. She looked like a woman built for control: pressed cream blouse, ruby pendant glinting just beneath her collarbone, a pale gloss on her lips that seemed to never wear off.

The silence between them was thick. Tense. And beneath it, something slithered-an undercurrent of unspoken things.

"Sleep well?" Elena finally asked, not looking up.

Ava blinked, surprised. "I did," she replied, though the bags under her eyes betrayed the lie.

In truth, she'd barely slept. Her mind had kept wandering, haunted by ghosts in hallways that used to echo with her mother's laughter. Every creak in the floorboards, every missing photo frame on the walls, screamed that things had changed.

"That's good," Elena said, tapping her phone one last time before setting it aside. "Your father mentioned you had exams last month. Law, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Ava nodded. "Final semester."

Elena smiled, soft and controlled. "Smart girl."

Ava tried to smile back. The words were kind, but the way Elena said them-measured, deliberate-made Ava's skin prickle. There was something in her tone, something hollow.

It wasn't what she said.

It was what she didn't say.

The same unspoken things that danced behind those gold-flecked hazel eyes.

Ava had seen eyes like that before-mirrors in antique stores. Beautiful, reflective... but offering nothing of themselves.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Ava said carefully, setting her cup down.

Elena tilted her head. "Why would you think that?"

Ava hesitated. "Things feel... different."

Elena chuckled, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve. "Of course they do. You've been away for four years. This house has changed, your father has changed. We all evolve, darling."

Darling. The word grated in Ava's ears. It didn't belong to Elena. It belonged to her mother.

Just then, Thomas entered, cheerful and bright as ever. His presence lit up the room-still so unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

"Good morning, girls!" he greeted.

"Morning, Dad," Ava said, her tone warmer for his sake.

Elena stood and kissed his cheek. "We were just chatting. I was telling Ava how proud we are of her."

He beamed. "Of course we are. Top of her class!"

Ava smiled weakly. He still looked at her with the same affection, but his eyes... they were tired now. Older. The kind of tired that came from moving on too quickly, too forcefully.

"We're hosting a dinner tonight," Elena announced. "Just something intimate. Friends of the family. You'll enjoy it."

"Oh," Ava replied, masking her hesitation. "That's... thoughtful."

"Your return is a big deal, sweetheart," Thomas said. "We've missed you."

Have you? Ava wanted to ask. But she just nodded.

As she stood to leave, she caught Elena's gaze once more-calm, serene, but somehow watchful. There was something feline about the way she looked at Ava: as if calculating, waiting.

And then, as Ava turned to walk past her, Elena leaned in and whispered-soft, low, and unmistakably pointed.

"Some doors are best left closed, sweetheart. Especially old ones."

Ava froze.

She turned sharply, but Elena had already glided into the hallway, her heels clicking in a rhythm too perfect to be natural.

Her father, oblivious, hummed to himself as he sipped his coffee.

Ava stood still for a moment longer, a cold weight settling in her chest. The words weren't a warning.

They were a challenge.

She wandered back upstairs to her old room-which now smelled faintly of a different perfume-and opened the closet. Her mother's dresses were gone. Not stored. Not packed. Gone.

So were the pictures on the hallway walls. The black-and-white wedding photo, the one of the three of them at the beach, even the framed drawing Ava made in second grade. All of it-erased.

Like her mother had never lived here. Like she had never been.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. This wasn't the time to grieve.

It was time to see what secrets this house had buried-and what Elena might be hiding behind those quiet, elegant smiles.

Because Ava now knew something with clarity:

She wasn't just back home.

She was stepping into a war zone.

And Elena?

She wasn't simply her father's wife.

She was a storm wrapped in silk...

...and her eyes were hiding something very dangerous