Seven years had passed since that quiet night when Camila and Romeo struggled to teach John something so simple—and yet so difficult—as how to smile. Five years since that conversation in which Helena's words still lingered in the air, heavy with uncomfortable truths.
Now, the silent child who once trembled in front of a mirror was gone.
John Xentras, newly twelve years old, stood before that same mirror—but he was no longer the same. Taller now, his features slowly taking shape, he still carried the expressionless look he had been born with… and the ability to smile that Camila and Romeo had gifted him through infinite patience.
The smile remained faint, controlled, almost rehearsed.
But it was his.
Silence was still part of him, though now it was nearly invisible.
⸻
The house had changed.
So had the family.
Camila, firmer than ever, had left behind part of the vulnerability that once accompanied her. Romeo, on the other hand, had grown more protective—and colder—since certain events no one spoke of aloud. Helena… remained a name that tightened the air whenever it was spoken.
But John, at twelve, had already learned to read those tensions. He was no longer the child who needed explanations; he was becoming someone who could understand them on his own.
That morning, however, something different lingered in the air.
Camila called him from the kitchen, her voice firm and edged with concern.
"John, come here for a moment. We need to talk."
Romeo was already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching him with that look he only used when something serious was about to surface.
John walked toward them without showing emotion.
Five years had passed since his life had first changed because of his mother's family.
And he sensed it was about to change again.
"We'll be spending a few days at your grandparents' mansion," Camila said, looking him straight in the eyes. "My brothers—and even your father—need us there for family matters and some unfinished business. It will only be for a while, but it's important that we're present."
John didn't need to ask questions; in his mind, he could already imagine the kind of business involved—and possibly the reason for the shift in atmosphere that had lingered over the past five years.
"I understand, Mother. I'll start getting ready," John replied calmly, serenely, without revealing a single thought.
Several hours later, the three of them were ready to leave.
"Let's not stress ourselves out during these days. Let's just keep things as usual, all right?" Romeo said, his steady tone grounding the family.
"Heh… sometimes I don't know whether you're too trusting or just too optimistic," Camila replied, offering a faint smile at her husband's words as they began the journey toward whatever awaited them.
⸻
The car ride passed in silence. John watched the scenery through the window, taking in every detail. Camila kept her rigid posture at the wheel, while Romeo scanned the road without a word. Eventually, his grandparents' mansion emerged from among the trees—imposing and impeccably maintained, with expansive gardens and classical architecture.
As they stepped out, a butler greeted them with a bow.
"Welcome," he said in a deep voice.
"Thank you," Camila replied, barely moving her lips. Romeo nodded. John followed behind, already evaluating the layout of the entrance and the staff's positioning.
The mansion was immaculate: polished floors reflecting the light, paintings aligned with precision, and a faint scent of flowers mixed with waxed wood. Every detail spoke of order and control.
"Let's settle in first," Camila said. "Then we'll meet with your grandfather and uncles to deal with the pending matters."
John carried his luggage to his room. It was spacious and austere, with large windows that let in the evening light. Everything was placed with precision—nothing excessive, nothing lacking. He sat in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. The smile he had learned to control was still there, exact as always.
Not long after, his grandfather appeared. His presence commanded respect.
"John," he said. "It's a pleasure to see you growing up. Your mother and Romeo have spoken highly of you."
"Thank you," John replied.
"Over the next few days, we'll be reviewing family matters and business affairs. I want you to observe and learn. This information will be useful later on."
Camila remained close, cold and calculating, evaluating every gesture. Romeo crossed his arms, alert to every detail. John nodded, recording everything silently.
That night, he walked through the gardens. Moonlight illuminated the paths, and the wind gently stirred the leaves. He observed every flower, every stone along the trail, every reflection in the pond. Sitting at the edge, he watched his reflection merge with the night sky. Everything was in its place, functioning as expected.
The next day, the family meeting began in the main hall. His uncles sat around the large mahogany table, discussing documents and figures. Camila stood beside her mother, observing closely and making mental notes. Romeo positioned himself behind them, watchful. John stayed nearby, silently observing every exchange, every gesture, every subtle tension among the adults.
"We have several contracts that need reviewing," his grandfather said. "Some require immediate adjustments; others must remain discreet to avoid affecting external agreements."
"Understood," Camila replied firmly.
The uncles exchanged glances—some approving, others hesitant. John simply absorbed the information, analyzing the relevance of each document and decision, without involving himself in unnecessary discussions.
Later, during a break, John wandered back through the gardens, stopping once again by the pond. He recalled the times Camila and Romeo had guided him and noticed how everything now felt more calculated, more structured. The mansion, the family, the business—everything was under control.
"Today marks the beginning of an important cycle," Camila said upon returning. "Observe and learn. Everything has a purpose."
John nodded. He knew the coming days would demand attention to detail, and he was ready to record and analyze everything with precision.
⸻
The day passed quickly. There were no problems, no arguments, no hostile glances directed at John.
As the family headed toward their quarters, the sound of elegant heels echoed through the hall.
"Oh! Look at my little sister's family—still as lovely as ever…" Helena said, wearing her usual dominant smile as she stepped ahead of them, arms crossed, accompanied by her husband.
"Sister Helena…" Camila said, her gaze sharp enough to strike.
John merely observed the shift in his mother's demeanor before turning his attention to his aunt: a woman with short hair, pale skin like his mother's, and an imposing presence.