16

Elara’s Pov

The question I had asked my father—If you never stopped looking for me, how did I spend so many years believing nobody wanted me?—hung thick in the air.

I expected him to give me a grand explanation, to wrap twenty-four years of stolen history up in a neat little story with a clear villain. But Alaric didn't do that. When we talked again, he looked at me with deep, honest eyes and told me that the family might never fully understand every single dark detail of what happened to me after I was taken. He gently explained that their most important responsibility now wasn't to rewrite the past, but to make sure I never, not for a single second, felt abandoned or alone again.

His honest answer comforted me far more than an easy promise would have. It made me realize that rebuilding a broken family isn't about snapping your fingers and pretending the scars don't exist. It requires patience, grace, and time from everyone involved.

That evening, Seraphina announced that we were going to have our very first family dinner together. But she made sure to set strict rules from the start. It would be small, quiet, and completely informal. No business associates, no wealthy reporters, and no distant relatives were invited. She refused to let my first family dinner feel like a public spectacle where I had to perform.

At first, a familiar knot of anxiety twisted in my stomach. I worried I would be expected to follow complicated, ancient traditions or impress people who had spent their whole lives in a world of high-society wealth. But Ronan quickly chased those fears away.

"Don't worry, Elara," Ronan grinned, leaning against the doorway of my room. "The only real rule tonight is that you have to eat enough to satisfy Silas. He has officially decided that your physical recovery is his own personal medical mission, and he will interrogate the chef if you don't finish your plate."

That afternoon, the brothers got into a ridiculous argument right outside my door. Silas insisted that I should be served all my favorite childhood dishes to spark my memory, while Ronan argued that I deserved to choose entirely new meals to start fresh. Listening to them bicker back and forth over a menu made me laugh out loud more than once, melting away the lingering tension in my chest.

When evening finally arrived, I walked down the grand stairs and stepped into the dining room. My breath caught in my throat.

Six people—Alaric, Seraphina, Kael, Ronan, Silas, and me—were waiting. And the moment I walked in, all six of them stopped talking and waited patiently for me to sit down before anyone touched a fork.

In the Rooke mansion, family meals were a nightmare. They revolved entirely around Darian's busy corporate schedule and Octavia's strict, judgmental expectations. I was always the last person considered, sitting quietly at the end of a massive table while everyone ignored me. So, the simple act of a whole family waiting for me, asking me where I would prefer to sit, made my throat tight with sudden emotion.

Seraphina noticed my hesitation right away. She walked over, her eyes soft and understanding. "The chair right beside me has always been your place, Elara," she whispered gently. "But if you would rather sit somewhere else, nobody will mind at all."

I swallowed hard and chose the chair beside my mother.

The meal began softly. Ronan started telling funny stories about our childhood, Silas interrupted him every five minutes with exaggerated corrections, and Kael pretended with a straight face that he had never done anything embarrassing in his entire life.

Then, Alaric surprised everyone at the table.

"You know," Alaric said, smiling warmly as he looked across the table at his eldest son, "Kael once spent an entire afternoon trying to teach Elara how to ride a tiny bicycle when she was barely big enough to reach the pedals."

Kael immediately stiffened, his face turning slightly pink. "Dad, you promised you'd take that story to the grave," he mumbled, looking down at his plate.

"What happened?" I asked, a curious smile spreading across my face.

"Well," Alaric chuckled, "after pedaling exactly three feet, Elara decided she was completely done with the lesson. She refused to touch the bike again, marched right up to Kael, and demanded that he carry her all the way back to the house on his shoulders instead."

The whole table burst out laughing, while Kael groaned and covered his face with his hand. Listening to the story, I closed my eyes for a second. I couldn't actually remember the memory, but sitting there surrounded by their warm laughter, I could almost picture the little girl who trusted her big brother so completely that she could boss him around without a single fear.

As dinner went on, I stopped feeling like a nervous visitor. I started asking questions about family traditions, about the holidays they used to celebrate, and about the little things I had missed growing up. For the first time in my life, I wasn't just surviving. I was learning where I belonged.

Then, a quiet moment swept over the table.

Silas was passing a bowl of vegetables across the table, and without thinking, he looked right at me and used an old childhood nickname that only he and my parents remembered.

The moment the name left his mouth, the entire dining room fell instantly dead silent. Silas froze, his hand hovering in the air. His face went pale, and panic flashed in his eyes. He looked at me as if he expected me to freak out, terrified that the sudden blast from the past had overwhelmed me.

I blinked, taking a slow breath. I looked right back at him.

"Say it again," I asked softly.

Silas swallowed hard and repeated the name, his voice barely above a whisper.

A faint, gentle smile touched my lips. "I don't remember being called that," I admitted honestly, looking around the table at their anxious faces, "but... I think I'd really like to hear it again."

Seraphina let out a shaky, broken gasp, and silent tears began to stream down her cheeks. Without thinking, I reached my hand across the table and caught hers, lacing my fingers through hers beneath the tablecloth. The gesture felt completely natural, completely right.

After dinner finished, Alaric smiled warmly and proposed an idea. "Before everyone gets too tired, let's take a family photograph. To mark the very beginning of our new life together."

My smile faltered. I pulled my hands back slightly, a sudden wave of hesitation crashing over me.

I looked down at my lap. I wanted to make them happy, but looking at the camera lens made my chest tighten. I didn't want a staged picture that pretended twenty-four years of heartbreak, pain, and separation never happened. I didn't want to fake a perfect, unbroken fairy tale when my heart was still healing.

Before I could find the words to explain my fear, before I could tell them why the camera made me anxious, Kael pushed his chair back slightly.

He looked across the table, meeting my eyes with a gaze full of profound, steady understanding.

Before I could explain her hesitation, Kael gently said, "Then let the picture show exactly where we are today, Elara—not where we wish we had been twenty-four years ago.”