Page 114 of Possession

But Lena is right.

If I want to see my painting hanging in the Starlight exhibit, I have to get to work.

When I step into the lobby, I spot Lars sitting in one of the sleek leather chairs, his broad frame hunched slightly as he focuses on his phone. His usually impassive face is uncharacteristically soft, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Then, something startling happens.

He smiles.

I freeze in my tracks. I have rarely seen Lars smile. It’s almost like spotting a unicorn in the wild.

It’s not big, but it’s there—a small, quiet thing that tugs at the corner of his mouth. He’s on a video call, and his deep voice is lower, softer than usual. It’s so human, so intimate, that I feel like I’ve accidentally walked in on something private.

Then he notices me.

His expression snaps back into place, his posture going rigid as he ends the call with a quick word.

I approach with my bags, curiosity buzzing inside me like an electrical current.

He stands, effortlessly taking my bags from my hands. “Let me get those.”

We settle into the car, and I try to push down the urge to ask what I just walked in on. But the longer we drive, the more my curiosity burns.

Finally, I can’t help myself. “Who were you talking to, Lars?”

His gray-blue eyes flick to mine in the rearview mirror, unreadable as ever. “Hmm?”

“On the video call,” I press. “Who was that?”

He hesitates.

For a split second, I swear I see a flicker of uncertainty in his usually impenetrable gaze.

Then he exhales.

“My daughter.”

I blink. My brain short-circuits.

“Wait—yourwhat?” I nearly gasp.

I’ve known Lars for a long damn time. He’s Hunter’s right-hand man, a shadow in the background of my life—always watching, protecting, never revealing anything personal.

And now, he’s casually telling me he has a daughter?

“You’ve never mentioned that you have children.”

His expression remains stoic, but there’s something guarded in his tone. “Are you surprised?” His accent—usually faint—becomes more pronounced, his Nordic roots suddenly peeking through.

“Well,yeah, Lars.” I stare at him, still processing. “Does Hunter know?”

He nods once. “Yes.”

And that pisses me off a little.

Hunter knew.

Of course, he did.

---