"Do you really want to know who your parents are?"
Yannis' voice was calm, to the point of indifference—like the answer didn't matter to him at all.
It was too calm, it unsettled Lara.
But the way his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his cup betrayed him.
Because he was waiting. Not for her question— But for her answer.
Lara didn't respond immediately.
The garden seemed to quiet around them, the distant breeze brushing past the hedges as if even the wind was holding its breath.
She lowered her gaze slightly, thinking.
Not hesitating out of fear—but calculation.
Then, slowly, she looked back at him.
"If you show me something connected to them…" she said, her voice measured, controlled, "a photo, maybe—"
Her eyes sharpened, steady and unyielding.
"—that should be enough to trigger something, right?"
It wasn't a plea.
It was a strategy.
Yannis studied her for a minute.
There it was again, that familiar sharpness.
