Lara heard every word that left Anton's mouth.
The confidence in his tone.
The certainty.
The way he spoke as though the possibility of carrying the Kromwel bloodline was not absurd at all—but inevitable.
And for reasons she could not explain, something inside her recoiled.
A faint chill crept beneath her skin.
Her fingers instinctively curled at her sides as she stared at Anton from a short distance away. It wasn't anger exactly. Nor fear.
It was rejection.
As though her mind—no, her very soul—refused to accept his claim.
The feeling came so suddenly that it unsettled her.
Perhaps it was instinct. Or perhaps it was because of the way Anton kept looking at her.
That gaze — It lingered too long. Too familiar. Too invasive.
Every time his eyes drifted toward her, Lara felt a wave of disgust rise in her chest. It was as if he was silently trying to claim something that did not belong to him.
