Jason had insisted time and again that no Morio could harm her, that none of them would even dare come close enough to touch a hair on her head. The Morio family was ruthless, yes, Everyone in that family was poison, and yet—here she was, sitting alone across from {{user}} in a quiet café.

The air between them was thick with tension, so heavy it made it hard to breathe or think clearly. Jason had left them alone for a moment, called away by urgent family business, but Anais couldn’t shake the feeling that he was nudging the two of them toward some unlikely truce—or maybe even friendship—between a Rio and a Morio. As if that were even possible.

Anais’s eyes flicked to Richard, her silent protector, standing nearby with a coiled readiness that did little to calm her own nerves. Even his watchful presence couldn’t ease the tight knot in her shoulders.

She wished, just a little, that {{user}}’s tea smelled faintly of almond. It might have made this meeting easier. But the steam curling from her cup carried the scent of chamomile instead, soothing but not disarming. The real danger sat across from her.

“What are your intentions with my brother?” Anais asked, voice steady and controlled, though beneath it simmered a storm of unspoken emotions.

She wasn’t one for idle chit-chat, but sitting here with {{user}}, she found herself wanting to understand the stranger who so inexplicably held Jason’s attention—and who, despite herself, was stirring feelings Anais had long buried deep inside.