Chapter 83: Confrontation

They stepped into the terrace corridor overlooking a manicured garden below. The noise of the restaurant faded into distant clinks of crystal and low murmurs of conversation.

Sunlight poured through the glass panels, catching Scarlet’s wine-colored hair and turning it into something almost aflame.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Scarlet leaned lightly against the steel railing, crossing her arms.

Up close, her beauty was sharper. Her perfume richer. Her confidence overstated.

“You’re very composed,” Scarlet said at last.

Lara met her eyes steadily.

“Should I not be?”

A faint smile curved Scarlet’s lips.

“I’ve seen many women around Ares,” she said smoothly. “Most of them misunderstand their position.”

Position. There it was.

Lara did not answer immediately.

Silence stretched — not awkward, but controlled.

Scarlet stepped closer.

“You’re his daughter’s governess, just a glorified version of a maid,” she continued sarcastically. “And you’re doing a wonderful job. Shay seems… very attached.”

A pause.

“But you must understand something,” she added, lowering her voice. “Ares doesn’t entertain temporary emotions. When he commits, he commits completely.”

Her green eyes sharpened.

“And he has a past.” She flipped her hair, her movement deliberate. “With me.”

She wanted the moment to feel cinematic.

“We shared more than high school memories,” she continued. “We planned futures. We had… promises.”

Promises.

The word lingered between them like a perfume note that refused to fade.

“I left to reunite with my family and to study abroad,” she said, almost wistful. “But distance doesn’t erase everything.”

Lara’s heartbeat remained steady.

Not a flicker. Not a fracture.

“If something is meant to return,” Scarlet finished quietly, “it usually does.”

The message was no longer subtle.

Lara stepped closer. Not confrontational. Not defensive.

Just close enough that the air between them shifted.

“You misunderstand,” Lara said softly.

Scarlet tilted her head and raised her right brow.

“Really?”

It was a challenge.

“You said it yourself,” Lara continued evenly. “I am only his daughter’s governess.”

A small pause.

“Nothing more.”

Scarlet’s smile widened slightly.

“Good that you know your place.”

Then she leaned in, voice lowering to something silkier.

“Ares and I built something once. Not something fragile, or something casual. Real men don’t forget women like me.”

Lara held her gaze. And then she said it.

“I am not interested in your Ares.” Her voice was calm and clean.

The wind moved between them.

“I am only interested in his daughter.”

Unbeknownst to them, footsteps had slowed at the end of the corridor.

Ares had stepped out from the restroom.

He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop but he had heard enough.

He heard the word promises.

He heard Scarlet’s certainty.

And he heard Lara’s rejection.

She was not defensive. There was no trace of jealousy at all but only finality in her voice.

I am not interested in your Ares.

His jaw tightened.

Something unfamiliar stirred in his chest. Not relief, or anger, but something far more dangerous.

Because for the first time, he was not being pursued, but he was being dismissed.

And Ares Zuvel had never been dismissed in his life.

Behind him, a waiter paused respectfully, unaware that the quietest sentence of the afternoon had just shifted the balance of power completely.

On the terrace, Scarlet straightened.

She was satisfied.

She believed she had won that exchange.

But Lara’s expression did not change.

Because what Scarlet failed to understand was this—

Lara wasn’t stepping aside.

She was simply refusing to enter a race she had no intention of running.

And that refusal would soon become the very reason Ares began to chase.

…

Scarlet returned to the dining room first, composed and feeling victorious.

Lara followed a minute later.

If anyone had watched closely, they would have noticed the difference — Scarlet’s satisfaction was visible while Lara remained calm.

Ares was no longer inside.

His seat was empty, but Jack occupied the seat previously used by Yannis.

The glass of water before him was untouched.

Shay was distracted by dessert.

Scarlet began speaking lightly about an upcoming charity gala, as if nothing significant had occurred.

Lara’s cellphone dinged. She glanced at it briefly and excused herself.

“I have something to attend to. I’ll be back,” she said, patting Shay gently on the back.

No one objected.

The terrace outside the restaurant was quieter.

The polished marble reflected the early afternoon sunlight.

She had only taken a few steps toward the end of the terrace when a voice stopped her.

“Larissa.”

It was not loud but firm enough that she could not ignore.

She turned, her hair looked like molten copper framing her face.

Ares stood at the end of the corridor.

One hand in his pocket. The other relaxed at his side.

He wasn’t blocking her path. He didn’t need to.

The air between them felt narrower than the corridor.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked calmly.

His gaze searched her face.

Too carefully.

“I heard you.”

No accusation. Just fact.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand.

The terrace. The promises. The dismissal.

Lara held his gaze evenly.

“I wasn’t aware I was being overheard.”

His jaw flexed slightly.

“You said you weren’t interested in me.”

Ares tone was direct without no embellishment.

She did not look away.

“That’s correct.”

She was not defensive nor embarrassed. Just certain.

Ares stepped closer.

It wasn’t invading her private space, but close enough that she could see the faint tension in his shoulders.

“You seem very sure of that.”

“I am.”

His eyes darkened.

“Why?”

There was an undercurrent in his voice. It wasn’t ego or anger but something quieter.

More personal.

Why is it easy for her to cast me aside? Ares thought

Lara turned her head slightly.

“Because I have responsibilities. I have an unknown past I need to discover. I cannot be distracted,” she replied. “And besides,” she glanced briefly at Ares, “I don’t confuse work with personal matters.”

The words weren’t sharp, but they struck like a sword.

Ares exhaled slowly.

“You think that’s what this is?”

“I think,” she said carefully, “that men like you don’t like being told no.”

His gaze sharpened.

“And you think I can’t accept it?”

“I think,” she corrected softly, “you’re not used to it.”

Silence stretched between them.

Not hostile but charged.

Ares took another step closer.

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