I slowly raised my head, my gaze drifting toward the living room.
Elara had already finished breakfast and was sitting close beside Aria on the sofa. Aria was feeding her fruit, bite by bite.
As Elara ate, she picked up a fork herself and fed her mother in return, her big eyes blinking brightly.
I suddenly recalled what my grandmother said yesterday.
“She looks exactly like you when you were three.”
So it wasn’t just her imagination.
A strange feeling suddenly rose in my chest.
I have no memory of what I was like at three years old.
After my mother was murdered, I sealed away all the photo albums from my childhood and never opened them again.
All I cared about was bringing down my father and his empire, and getting justice for my mother.
Eight years ago, to make sure I would “lea
