Page 9 of Influence

“We should go,” I insisted.

“Laya!” Avra exclaimed, gripping my shoulders tightly and gazing intently into my eyes. “Stop being impulsive. You need to outgrow that habit.”

“Something doesn’t add up,” I replied, nervously skimming the dim hallway that led to a door promising escape from the impending mistake I felt I was about to make.

“How could it be a setup? A setup for what, exactly? Just a reminder, you picked Nikolas. Have you lost sight of that?”

“No,” I said, folding my arms defensively. “But maybe…” I paused, forcing myself to calm down.

I shifted my focus from Nikolas to the photograph, then let my eyes wander over the other images resting on the mantel.Each frame held a memory, and my father’s soulful gaze stared back at me from two of them. A realization settled in, making it clear that my father had a connection to Constantine, which lingered just beyond our previous searches. How could we have missed such an important link?

Suddenly, a realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.

Vik had been unusually quiet throughout the entire conversation.

I turned abruptly towards him and asked, “Were you aware?”

“Yes, but—” Vik opened his mouth and closed it again.

I cut him off, asking, “How could you hide this from us?”

I grew weary of Vik’s constant urge to protect us, not just from physical threats but also from vital truths we had the right to know. Once, I might have sympathized with his wish to shield us, but now it only fueled my bitterness and frustration.

“We’re adults, Vik. We can handle the truth.”

“Yes,” he said, “They were friends. And I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter—until now.”

I glared, on the verge of hitting him. “We’re not girls anymore!”

He glanced up, as if asking for divine intervention, a gesture that highlighted our numerous previous interactions.

“Calm down, Laya,” he cautioned as he met my fiery glare. “You chose him, Laya. I trusted that choice. Nikolas Galanis was merely one of three men on the list compiled by your sister. I gave Avra my opinion on who I favored, but never said anything to you. The final decision was all on you.”

“You know exactly what I mean!” I snapped. “You should have told us.”

“I figured you’d discover it eventually.” He shrugged, treating it as unimportant. “Moreover, it’s a harmless detail. You’re creating unnecessary drama.”

“You’re impossible,” I retorted, rolling my eyes as irritation boiled over.

“I could say the same about you, dear one,” Vik replied with a sarcastic lilt.

I would certainly strangle him if I didn’t love him so much.

I looked to Avra, begging her to intervene—but she was lost in the photos, her face shadowed with something I couldn’t quite read. As the eldest, Avra bore an unspoken responsibility that grew heavier after our parents’ deaths.

Her eyes often revealed a desperate yearning, a silent hope that Papa might somehow come back to lighten her burden.

Viewing these vibrant photographs of Papa felt like encountering a ghost. They prompted me to reflect on Papa’s connection with Constantine. Not only were they allies, but they were also friends with a much deeper bond. From the various pictures, they had known each other since childhood.

It made me curious about what Papa was like in his youth. The joyous aura in those photographs suggested shared adventures and a deep, unspoken understanding, a stark contrast to the man I never truly knew.

A sudden prickle of awareness had me glancing at Nikolas.

His intense gaze locked onto mine as he continued his conversation with Elias. I held his stare, trying to interpret the subtle hints in his expression to determine whether I could trust this enigmatic man whose beauty seemed almost unreal.

He had an unsettling charm, suggesting that behind his flawless appearance lay hidden flaws or ominous secrets. His perfection felt as if it served as a meticulously constructed mask, hiding intricate and mysterious motivations.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he might have a valid reason for agreeing to marry me. This reason could involve either a hidden motive or a straightforward, practical choice. However, as I noticed his distracted gaze—those fleeting moments whenhe seemed to reflect on our discussion about the photographs—I felt he had answers too. The idea that I was projecting my hidden intentions onto him was somewhat amusing.

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