UnBooks:Lara's Echoes of the Lost: A Family Reclaimed

Two years had passed since Lara Croft had achieved the impossible, reuniting with her mother, Amelia. Their time together had been nothing short of miraculous, a gift Lara never thought she would experience again. Amelia’s health flourished, and the bond between mother and daughter grew stronger with each passing day.

Yet, despite the joy of having her mother back, a new ache began to settle in Lara’s heart—a longing for the family she had lost. She often found herself reflecting on her father, Richard Croft, whose disappearance had left a gaping void in her life. His absence remained an unsolved mystery, one that haunted her thoughts more often than she cared to admit.

But it wasn’t just Richard she thought of. The memory of Ivan, the man who had been her protector, her partner, her love, weighed heavily on her as well. And Alister, her trusted confidant and companion in countless adventures, whose sharp mind and gentle humor she sorely missed.

Life at Croft Manor was both a comfort and a reminder. Amelia’s presence brought warmth and joy, but as Lara wandered the vast estate, she couldn’t escape the echoes of those who were no longer there. The study, where Richard’s meticulous notes still lay untouched. The garage, housing Ivan’s peculiar collection of Eastern Bloc vehicles, each a testament to his quirky tastes. And the library, where she and Alister had spent countless hours piecing together the secrets of the past.

One day, as she stood in the garage, her fingers tracing the contours of an old Škoda's hood, a thought began to take shape. If she could defy fate to bring her mother back, why not attempt the same for Ivan? For Alister? And perhaps even for her father?

It wasn’t an easy decision. To tamper with the natural order again would be risky, even dangerous. But the idea consumed her. It wasn’t just about restoring her family; it was about filling the void that had persisted in her soul.

And so, Lara made a choice. She would embark on a journey unlike any other—not for ancient relics or the secrets of long-lost civilizations, but to reclaim the people she loved.

This time, the quest wasn’t for history’s sake. It was for her own.

Chapter 1

Lara Croft found herself at a crossroads. Her once-thrilling life, filled with daring escapes and ancient mysteries, had grown stale. She wandered the halls of Croft Manor like a ghost, her passion dulled by routine and a sense of profound loss. Everything she had ever loved seemed to have slipped through her fingers, leaving her with a hollow existence that wealth and success could no longer fill.

Despite her outward composure, Lara was restless. The spark that had driven her through perilous tombs and across dangerous terrains had been extinguished. She tried to rekindle it with sporadic raids, but each one left her feeling more detached. Near-death experiences no longer excited her—they only reminded her how fragile and fleeting life was.

Amelia, her recently rediscovered mother, thrived in stark contrast. Her second chance at life had awakened a vigor that even Lara found surprising. Amelia spent her days overseeing Croft Manor’s affairs, hosting elegant gatherings, and diving into charity work with gusto. But beneath her new purpose, she worried for Lara. The daughter she had fought so hard to reunite with seemed to be slipping away again, this time consumed by despair rather than danger.

Lara often joined Amelia for quiet evenings in the library or over a glass of wine, but the conversations were brief and shallow. On some occasions, when the silence became unbearable, Lara would take one of Ivan’s old cars for a drive. The Škoda Super Estelle, a car he had lovingly maintained, became her favorite. Its vibrant red exterior and modest charm reminded her of simpler times, of Ivan’s gruff humor and steady presence. Driving it along winding country roads felt like a connection to a part of her life that was now painfully out of reach.

One evening, after a particularly aimless drive, Lara returned to the manor and found Amelia sitting by the fire in the grand library. The room was warm and inviting, but it couldn’t soothe the storm brewing inside her. Lara slumped into a chair across from her mother, staring into the flickering flames.

“Do you miss Father?” Lara asked abruptly, breaking the silence.

Amelia glanced up, surprised by the question. “Every day,” she admitted softly. “He was taken from me too soon. Not knowing what happened to him… that’s the hardest part.”

Lara nodded, her gaze distant. “I think about him sometimes. And Ivan. And Alister. Everyone I’ve lost.” She paused, her voice barely audible. “It’s unbearable.”

Amelia set her wine glass down, her brow furrowing with concern. “Lara, what’s on your mind?”

Lara hesitated, as if weighing whether to voice the idea that had been haunting her. Finally, she said, “When I found you, it felt impossible. Yet here you are, alive and well. If I could bring you back… why not them?”

Amelia blinked, her expression a mixture of shock and unease. “Lara, that’s… a dangerous path to consider. The dead are gone for a reason.”

“But are they?” Lara pressed, her voice rising slightly. “If there’s a way to reach them, to bring them back—even just one of them—shouldn’t I try? Ivan gave me everything. Alister was loyal to the end. And Father… he disappeared without a trace. Don’t you want to know the truth, Mother?”

Amelia leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. She couldn’t deny the pain in Lara’s voice or the desperation in her eyes. Yet the thought of meddling with forces beyond their understanding filled her with dread.

“Lara,” she said carefully, “this isn’t something we can approach lightly. If we’re going to pursue this—and I’m not saying we should—we need to be prepared for the risks. I won’t lose you again. Do you understand me?”

Lara met her mother’s gaze, her expression resolute. “I won’t do this without you,” she promised. “But I can’t keep living like this, Mother. I need to try.”

Amelia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Alright,” she said finally. “But if we do this, we do it together. And we do it properly. No rushing into danger without a plan.”

Relief washed over Lara’s face, a flicker of hope igniting for the first time in years.

Over the following weeks, they began their preparations. Ancient texts were unearthed, maps were studied, and contacts in the archaeological and mystical communities were discreetly approached. Their goal was audacious, bordering on madness: a journey to the underworld itself.

As Lara delved deeper into the research, her determination grew. This wasn’t just about assuaging her grief—it was about reclaiming her life, her purpose, and the people who had shaped her. Amelia, though apprehensive, stood by her daughter’s side. She knew the journey ahead would be fraught with danger, but she also knew Lara couldn’t face it alone.

Together, they planned for the impossible, stepping once again into the unknown. For Lara, it wasn’t just a quest to defy death—it was a chance to rewrite the story of her life and bring back the love and light that had been stolen from her.

Chapter 2

The icy waters of the North Atlantic churned around Lara’s expedition vessel, its hull slicing through the waves with determination. Inside the cabin, Lara adjusted the straps of her summer wetsuit, her expression calm yet focused. Across from her, Amelia nervously zipped up her winter neoprene suit, casting uneasy glances at the rolling sea.

“This is madness,” Amelia muttered, shaking her head. “We’re diving into freezing water, heading straight into what amounts to the Norse underworld. And somehow, I agreed to this.”

Lara smiled reassuringly as she hefted the ancient weapon, Mjölnir, its surface shimmering with a faint, electric glow. “You agreed because you know this is important. Trust me, Mother—it’s going to be worth it.”

Amelia sighed, adjusting her gloves. “Worth it? I suppose I’ll be the judge of that when we’re not frozen solid or eaten by some mythical creature.”

With final preparations complete, the two women stepped onto the frosty deck. The biting wind whipped at their faces as they descended into the frigid ocean. The cold was immediate and unrelenting, but Lara moved with practiced precision, guiding Amelia through the dark waters toward their destination.

After what felt like hours, the grand gateway of Helheim loomed before them. The massive stone archway was adorned with ancient Norse runes that glowed faintly in the depths. Mjölnir resonated with the runes, pulsing with energy.

“Stay close,” Lara said, her voice crackling through their dive comms. She raised the hammer and struck the central rune, releasing a surge of light that rippled through the water. A moment later, the sea around them vanished, and they found themselves standing on the barren, mist-shrouded ground of Helheim.

The underworld stretched endlessly before them, its twisted landscape illuminated by an eerie, greenish glow. The air was heavy, suffused with an otherworldly chill. Amelia shivered, pulling her neoprene tighter around her.

“This place feels… wrong,” she whispered.

Lara nodded, gripping Mjölnir tightly. “It is. But it’s also the only way forward.”

The journey through Helheim was both surreal and haunting. Shadows moved in the distance, and whispers echoed through the mist, but no obstacles barred their path until they reached a cluster of towering rocks. From the gloom emerged a group of Thralls—grotesque, undead creatures with lifeless eyes that burned with faint blue light.

Lara acted immediately, swinging Mjölnir with calculated ferocity. Lightning surged from the hammer, striking down the Thralls in crackling bursts of energy. Amelia watched in stunned silence as Lara dispatched the last of the creatures, their forms crumbling into ash.

After the fight, an eerie silence settled over the underworld. “That should be the worst of it,” Lara said, catching her breath.

“Let’s hope so,” Amelia replied, still clutching the small blade Lara had given her, though it had proven unnecessary.

The remainder of their journey was uneventful, yet each step felt heavier as they neared their destination. At last, they reached a massive cavern where the legendary serpent Jörmungandr lay coiled, its immense form stretching into the shadows.

“This is it,” Lara said, approaching the dormant beast. The runes along its scales glowed faintly, a sign of its slumbering power.

Amelia hesitated, her eyes wide. “Are we really going to wake that… thing?”

“We have to,” Lara replied, scanning the ancient mechanisms that controlled the serpent’s power. “Jörmungandr is the key to the next step. Without it, we’re stuck here.”

It took all of Lara’s ingenuity to activate the serpent. She deciphered the runes and carefully manipulated the ancient controls. With a rumbling groan, Jörmungandr stirred, its glowing eyes opening as it rose to its full, terrifying height.

Amelia froze in terror, but Lara stood firm, holding Mjölnir aloft. “Jörmungandr, we seek passage. Grant us your aid.”

The serpent regarded them for a tense moment before lowering its head. Its breath created a swirling portal that shimmered with a golden light. Lara turned to Amelia with a reassuring smile.

“This will take us to Bolivia—the place where I found you,” Lara explained.

Amelia, still shaken, nodded and took her daughter’s hand. Together, they stepped into the portal, leaving Helheim behind as they were transported across the world, ready to face the next chapter of their journey.

Chapter 3

Lara and Amelia appeared at the ancient portal in Bolivia, where Lara had once found her mother. The place was deserted and silent, surrounded by dense jungle and ancient ruins. The air was thick with anticipation and tension.

"This is the place," Lara said, her voice quiet but firm. "This is where we activated the portal the first time."

Amelia nodded, her eyes glinting in the faint light of dawn. "I remember. It feels like it was just yesterday."

Lara pulled an ancient sword from her backpack, its blade glowing with a soft, golden light. She approached the portal and inserted the sword into a slot in the central stone. Immediately, a rumbling sound echoed as the stone blocks began to move, assembling with the precise mechanics typical of ancient civilizations.

With a thunderous noise, the portal activated, swirling energy forming a luminous circle that resembled the surface of water. Lara and Amelia clasped hands and stepped into the portal without hesitation.

They were sucked into a vortex of light and energy, their bodies seeming to be torn apart and reassembled. When their vision cleared, they found themselves in a place that looked like another world. It was a utopia, a beautiful and idyllic landscape with shimmering waterfalls and exotic flowers in bloom.

But something was wrong. Around them lay the bodies of dead people, their empty eyes staring into the sky. The atmosphere was calm and silent, yet deeply unsettling.

"This place... I know it," Amelia whispered, her voice filled with horror. "This is another dimension. I was once trapped here."

Lara looked around, her usual composure shaken by concern. "We need to find out why we've been brought here. And what happened to these people."

Amelia nodded, and together they began to explore this strange and eerie world. Every step they took was filled with uncertainty and questions. What awaits them in this other dimension? And what secrets does Amelia harbor from her time here?

As they ventured deeper into the utopian nightmare, Lara's thoughts turned to those she had lost. She was not just exploring for answers; she was searching for her loved ones. The memories of Ivan, her deceased husband; Alister, her close friend; and her father haunted her every move.

"Do you think we'll find them here?" Amelia asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"I hope so," Lara replied, determination hardening her features. "We have to. Ivan, Alister, my father—they mean everything to me."

Amelia squeezed her daughter's hand reassuringly. "We'll find them, Lara. We have to believe that."

Their journey through the dimension took on a new urgency. Each clue they uncovered, every mysterious artifact they encountered, brought them closer to the truth. The landscape was dotted with remnants of past lives, ghostly echoes of the people who had once existed here.

As they approached a ruined temple, Lara's heart pounded with both fear and hope. The temple's walls were covered in ancient inscriptions, detailing a story of love, loss, and a portal that connected worlds. Lara couldn't help but think of Ivan, who had always been her rock; Alister, whose loyalty had never wavered; and her father, whose wisdom she desperately missed.

The air grew colder as they entered the temple, a stark contrast to the vibrant world outside. In the center of the temple was a large, ornate mirror, its surface rippling like water. Lara stepped closer, her reflection merging with images from another time.

"Lara," Amelia called, pointing to a set of carvings on the wall. "Look at this."

Lara turned and saw carvings depicting three figures—each one familiar. Her heart ached as she recognized Ivan, Alister, and her father. They seemed to be reaching out, trapped in the mirror's reflection.

"This mirror," Lara said, her voice breaking. "It shows them. They're here, somewhere in this dimension."

Amelia placed a comforting hand on Lara's shoulder. "We'll find them, Lara. We're getting closer."

The journey ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but Lara and Amelia were more determined than ever. They had come too far to turn back now. Together, they would navigate the mysteries of this otherworldly dimension, uncover its secrets, and reunite with their lost loved ones.

Their adventure was far from over, and the path to finding Ivan, Alister, and Lara's father would test their courage and resolve. But Lara knew one thing for certain: she would do whatever it took to bring her family back.

Chapter 4

Still clad in their damp diving suits, Lara and Amelia trudged through the lush, alien countryside. The air was crisp and heavy with the earthy scent of pine and moss, carrying a quiet serenity that contrasted sharply with the turmoil of their mission. Every step squished slightly, their boots damp from the swampy patches they had waded through earlier.

“This doesn’t feel like Bolivia anymore,” Amelia said, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. She adjusted the straps of her gear, glancing at Lara, who seemed lost in thought.

“It isn’t,” Lara replied, scanning the horizon. Her eyes, trained for danger and discovery, darted over every rock, tree, and shadow. “But wherever we are, it’s still tethered to something. That mirror didn’t send us randomly.”

Amelia sighed, shifting her focus. “If I’d known this was how I’d spend my day, I’d have stayed in bed.”

“Come now, Mother,” Lara said, a rare hint of amusement in her voice. “You’ve been through worse.”

“Oh, have I?” Amelia countered, glancing down at her waterlogged boots. “Worse than stumbling through another dimension in full diving gear? With no idea where we are or who—or what—might be watching us?”

Lara smirked but didn’t reply, her focus shifting forward as a shape began to emerge through the mist. It was a small stone structure, a modest cabin tucked away in the folds of the terrain. Smoke curled lazily from its chimney, a warm sign of life in the otherwise empty landscape.

Amelia stopped, her gaze narrowing. “Do you think it’s safe?”

“We’re about to find out,” Lara replied, stepping forward.

The cabin was well-kept, its stones smooth and aged, as if it had been standing for centuries. Ivy clung to the walls, and the faint sound of a crackling fire could be heard through the thick wooden door. Lara approached cautiously, her hand brushing the hilt of the small blade she kept strapped to her thigh.

She knocked firmly, the sound echoing in the quiet.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the door creaked open, revealing a familiar figure. Alister Fletcher stood there, his glasses slightly crooked, his expression a mixture of disbelief and relief.

“Lara?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. “Is it really you?”

Lara’s heart leapt. “Alister!” Without hesitation, she stepped forward and embraced him tightly, as if confirming that he was indeed real. “I can’t believe it.”

Alister chuckled awkwardly, patting her back. “I... wasn’t expecting visitors, much less you. And you brought company.” His eyes flicked to Amelia, who stood just behind Lara, looking equally surprised.

“This is my mother, Amelia,” Lara explained, releasing Alister. “We’re here because of the portal. And because we’re searching for others—my father, and Ivan.”

Alister’s face darkened slightly. He stepped back, motioning them inside. “Come in. You’ll want to hear this.”

The cabin’s interior was modest but cozy. A small fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls lined with books and maps. A single teapot sat on a wooden table, surrounded by scraps of parchment covered in Alister’s meticulous handwriting.

“I’ve been here... well, it’s hard to say how long,” Alister began as they sat around the fire. “Time works differently in this place. But if you’re here, you’ve seen the mirror, haven’t you?”

Lara nodded, her expression grim. “We saw them. Ivan, my father... they’re here. Trapped.”

Alister sighed deeply, removing his glasses to clean them on his sleeve. “Yes. They’re here. This place has a way of pulling people in, keeping them. And the longer you stay, the more it affects you. You start to forget who you are, what you’re fighting for.”

Amelia leaned forward. “But they’re alive? You’re sure of that?”

“I am,” Alister said. “But finding them won’t be easy. This dimension is... fragmented. It’s like a shattered mirror, with each piece holding a different piece of reality. Traversing it isn’t just dangerous—it’s maddening.”

Lara’s jaw tightened, her determination unwavering. “We don’t have a choice. We’ll find them, no matter what it takes.”

Alister studied her for a moment before nodding. “Then I’m coming with you. You’ll need someone who knows the lay of the land, and I’ve been here long enough to pick up a few things.”

Amelia looked at him skeptically but said nothing.

They set off from the cabin, the landscape shifting as they moved deeper into the dimension’s uncharted territory. What had been serene hills and valleys gave way to jagged cliffs and forests so dense they blotted out the sunlight. Strange sounds echoed through the trees—soft whispers and distant cries that sent shivers down their spines.

“Does anyone else feel like we’re being watched?” Amelia asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“We probably are,” Alister replied matter-of-factly. “This place has... inhabitants. Some are friendly, some are not. Best to keep moving.”

The terrain grew rougher, and Alister struggled to keep pace with Lara and Amelia. His breath came in short bursts, but his resolve never faltered.

As they reached the edge of a dark forest, Lara paused, her gaze fixed on the horizon. In the distance, the ruins of an ancient structure loomed, its silhouette stark against the twilight sky.

“What is that?” Amelia asked.

“A waypoint,” Lara said, her voice tinged with hope. “If we’re lucky, it might hold a clue to where we’ll find Ivan and my father.”

Alister looked uncertain. “Or it might hold something far worse.”

Lara turned to him, her expression resolute. “We’ll deal with it. Whatever it takes, we’re not turning back.”

The three of them pressed on, their steps quickening despite the growing sense of unease. Each step brought them closer to the truth—and to the dangers that awaited them in this fragmented world.

Chapter 5

The group ventured deeper into the shifting, alien landscape. The air grew colder, and the trees seemed to twist unnaturally, their gnarled branches reaching out like claws. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the light dimmed to an eerie twilight, casting long shadows across the terrain.

Lara, ever vigilant, scanned the surroundings, her hand instinctively hovering near the hilt of her blade. Amelia, though weary, pressed on with a determined expression, while Alister lagged slightly behind, muttering under his breath about the growing discomfort.

They didn’t notice the first creature until it was nearly upon them.

From the dense undergrowth emerged a nightmarish beast, its body a grotesque amalgamation of sinew, scales, and pulsating veins. It stood on six legs, its elongated torso undulating as it moved. Instead of a head, it had a mass of tendrils, each tipped with an eye that swiveled in all directions.

“Lara, what is that?!” Alister shouted, stumbling backward.

Before she could answer, two more creatures burst from the shadows, their forms equally monstrous. One resembled a bloated arachnid, its bulbous body oozing a noxious green liquid, while the other was a gaunt humanoid with elongated limbs and no face, its movements jerky and unnatural.

“Stay together!” Lara commanded, drawing her blade.

The fight was brutal. Lara darted between the creatures with precision, her blade striking vulnerable points with practiced ease. Amelia, surprisingly agile in her diving gear, used a heavy branch as a weapon, smashing it against the arachnid’s legs. Alister, though hesitant, hurled rocks and debris, providing a much-needed distraction.

The battle ended with the creatures collapsing in grotesque heaps, their unnatural forms dissolving into a foul-smelling sludge. Lara wiped her blade clean, her chest heaving.

“What the hell are these things?” Alister asked, his voice trembling.

“Manifestations,” Lara replied curtly, her tone suggesting she wasn’t entirely sure herself. “This place twists reality. We’ll see more before this is over.”

As they continued their trek, the silence between them grew heavy, broken only by the crunch of leaves underfoot. Alister, still shaken, finally spoke.

“Lara, this Ivan you mentioned earlier... Who was he?”

Lara slowed her pace, her expression softening as memories flooded back.

“Ivan was... many things,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. “A time traveler, a detective, a soldier. A Czech through and through. He was a bit of a bohemian—a man who loved life’s little joys, even in the worst of times. He was loving, selfless, and a husband unlike any other, despite being nearly forty years my senior.”

Alister raised an eyebrow. “Forty years? That’s quite an age gap.”

Lara smiled faintly. “It was. But it never felt that way. He taught me so much—things I never thought I needed to learn. How to fight, how to survive, how to see the world in ways I’d never imagined. He gave me more than I could ever repay.”

Her expression darkened as she continued. “But he was also selfless to a fault. When he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he chose to end his life rather than let me watch him suffer. He didn’t want me to see him weak, to endure the agony of losing him slowly.”

Alister fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in. “I’m... sorry, Lara. I had no idea.”

She nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Neither did I, until it was too late.”

They came upon a clearing, where a lone tree stood against the twilight sky. Beneath it sat a figure—a woman with disheveled blonde hair and a gaunt, haunted face. Her clothes were torn, her hands resting limply in her lap.

Lara stopped abruptly, her body tensing. Alister, noticing her reaction, squinted at the figure.

“Is that... Amanda?” he asked incredulously.

“It is,” Lara said quietly, her voice cold.

Alister looked from Lara to Amanda, confusion written across his face. “But how? I thought she was—”

“She was executed,” Lara interrupted, her tone sharp. “By Ivan.”

Alister stared at her, stunned. “Ivan? Why? What did she do?”

Lara didn’t answer. Her gaze lingered on Amanda, who seemed oblivious to their presence. Without another word, she turned and continued walking, motioning for the others to follow.

Alister hesitated, glancing back at Amanda before hurrying to catch up.

Night had fully fallen by the time they reached the outskirts of a small town. Dim lights flickered in the windows of weathered buildings, and the streets were eerily quiet.

“Finally,” Amelia muttered. “A place that looks somewhat normal.”

They moved cautiously through the town, their eyes scanning for signs of life. It wasn’t long before they found it—or rather, it found them.

A group of armed men emerged from the shadows, their weapons aimed squarely at the group. They wore mismatched uniforms and bore crude insignias, their faces hardened and scarred.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” one of them barked.

“We’re just passing through,” Lara replied calmly, her hands raised slightly.

“Not anymore, you’re not,” another man sneered. “You’re coming with us.”

Lara’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so.”

Before the men could react, Lara sprang into action. In a blur of movement, she disarmed the nearest militia member, using his weapon to knock him unconscious. Amelia and Alister ducked for cover as chaos erupted.

The fight was swift and brutal. Lara moved with lethal precision, her training and experience turning the militia’s own numbers against them. One by one, they fell, their shouts silenced by her relentless assault.

When the dust settled, the streets were littered with bodies. Lara stood in the center, her breathing heavy, her eyes scanning for any remaining threats.

“Lara...” Alister began, his voice trembling.

“Let’s move,” she said curtly, not looking back.

Amelia and Alister exchanged uneasy glances but followed her without protest. As they left the town behind, the weight of what they had witnessed—and done—hung heavily in the air.

Their journey was far from over, and the dangers ahead were only growing. But for Lara, the path was clear. She would do whatever it took to find Ivan and bring him home—even if it meant walking through hell itself.

Chapter 6

Lara, Amelia, and Alister moved cautiously through the darkened countryside. The small town they’d just fled from was behind them, but the tension hung thick in the air. They were about to disappear further into the wilderness when the sound of sirens reached their ears.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Lara muttered under her breath, spinning around to locate the source of the noise.

The sirens grew louder, and soon they saw the lights—blue and red flashes cutting through the darkness. A convoy of vehicles appeared on the horizon, making its way toward the town square. To their astonishment, the cars were not futuristic, nor even modern.

The lead vehicles were old blue Ladas and Škodas, emblazoned with white stripes and the words Veřejná Bezpečnost—Public Security.

"Is this some kind of time-travel cosplay?" Alister whispered as they ducked behind a low stone wall.

Amelia frowned. "I thought this was another dimension, or at least some kind of alternate reality. Why on Earth would there be Czechoslovak police here?"

Lara didn’t answer. Her gaze was locked on the last car to arrive: a sleek, black Škoda 1000 MB. Her breath caught in her throat. That car was achingly familiar.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Ivan.

She peeked over the wall again, her fingers gripping the cold stone. From the car stepped a man, dressed impeccably in a tailored gray suit. His posture, his movements—Lara would recognize them anywhere.

It was him.

Except... he wasn’t the man she remembered. He was younger, barely thirty, with the confident gait of someone in their prime. Yet every detail was unmistakably Ivan.

"Ivan," Lara whispered, her voice trembling.

Alister and Amelia turned to her, their expressions a mix of confusion and alarm.

"What? You mean that’s Ivan?" Alister asked, pointing incredulously.

"Yes," Lara said, barely able to speak.

"But..." Amelia hesitated. "He looks nothing like the Ivan you described. You said he was forty years older than you, that he—"

"I know what I said!" Lara snapped, her voice shaking. "But that’s him. I’d know him anywhere."

Ivan moved with purpose, approaching the scene of carnage left behind by Lara and the others. He exuded a calm, commanding presence as he began inspecting the bodies, issuing orders to the uniformed officers around him.

Lara’s heart ached as she watched him kneel beside one of the fallen. He produced a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick, then began examining the corpse with the precision of a seasoned investigator.

"That’s not right," Lara muttered under her breath. "That’s not how he..."

Alister leaned closer. "How he what? Are you sure this is Ivan? Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him."

Lara shook her head. "No. It’s him. But this... this isn’t the man I knew. This is Ivan before life wore him down, before..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Amelia laid a hand on her arm. "Lara, we can’t stay here. If they see us—"

"I know," Lara interrupted, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes stayed glued to Ivan, watching every detail, every gesture.

He rose to his feet, gesturing for two officers to approach. They carried stretchers to the scene and began loading the bodies into a waiting van. Ivan watched, his expression unreadable, the cigarette still dangling from his lips.

For a moment, Lara thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes—sadness, perhaps, or the weight of responsibility. It was fleeting, gone as quickly as it appeared.

"This is wrong," Lara said quietly. "This isn’t how it’s supposed to be."

Amelia exchanged a look with Alister, her concern evident. "Lara, we have to go."

"But he’s right there!" Lara snapped, her voice breaking.

"Exactly. Right there. Surrounded by armed police," Alister pointed out. "If you walk up to him, what are you going to say? ‘Hi, I’m your wife from another timeline’? That’ll go over great."

Lara clenched her fists, torn between her instincts and the reality of the situation.

Ivan leaned against his car, puffing on his cigarette as he studied the scene one last time. His focus was absolute, oblivious to the three figures hiding just beyond his sight.

Taking a deep breath, Lara forced herself to turn away. "Let’s go," she said, her voice tight.

The three of them slipped further into the shadows, leaving Ivan and the surreal scene behind. But as they moved away, Lara couldn’t help but glance back one last time.

Ivan stood there, framed by the eerie glow of the police lights, a man she had loved but didn’t recognize—yet she was certain it was him.

Amelia touched her shoulder gently. "We’ll figure this out, Lara. But not here. Not now."

Lara nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. The journey ahead was full of uncertainty, but one thing was clear: this place held far more secrets than she’d imagined.

And Ivan was one of them.

Chapter 7

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the rolling countryside. Lara, Amelia, and Alister walked in silence, their footsteps crunching softly against the dirt path. The air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves.

Lara seemed different—lighter, somehow, though there was an edge to her expression. She was smiling, but her eyes betrayed her unease. The encounter with the younger Ivan had stirred something deep within her, a mix of joy and sorrow she couldn’t quite articulate.

Amelia glanced at her daughter. "You’re awfully quiet," she said gently.

"I’m just..." Lara trailed off, searching for the right words. "It’s strange. Seeing him like that. He’s the same, but not. It’s like... I’ve been given a glimpse of something I was never meant to see."

Alister raised an eyebrow. "And yet, here we are. Walking through the strangest countryside I’ve ever seen, with a living, breathing time paradox behind us."

Lara smirked faintly, but the moment was interrupted by the unmistakable rumble of an engine.

They turned to see the same black Škoda 1000 MB approaching from the distance, its headlights cutting through the fading light. The car slowed, then came to a stop just off the path, a few meters away.

Lara froze, her heart pounding.

The driver’s door opened, and Ivan stepped out. He looked around, his gaze distant, as if lost in thought. After a moment, he wandered toward a cluster of trees, his hands in his pockets.

The trio crouched behind a thicket, watching him intently.

"What’s he doing?" Amelia whispered.

"Thinking," Lara replied, her voice barely audible.

"About what?" Alister asked.

"Anything and everything," Lara said. "That’s who he was. Always in his own head, always trying to make sense of the world."

As Ivan disappeared into the trees, Lara’s attention shifted to the car. Her breath caught in her throat. "We need to see it," she said, her voice firm.

"What? Are you insane?" Alister hissed. "That’s his car!"

"I know," Lara said, already moving toward it.

Amelia sighed and followed, pulling Alister along with her.

The trio approached the Škoda cautiously, its glossy black paint reflecting the fading light. Lara’s hand trembled as she reached for the door handle, but to her surprise, it was unlocked.

Inside, the car was pristine, a time capsule from an era long gone. The faint smell of old leather and tobacco lingered in the air. Lara’s eyes scanned the interior, her heart racing.

And then she saw it.

On the dashboard, propped up against the windshield, was a photograph in a simple silver frame.

Lara’s breath hitched as she picked it up, her fingers trembling. It was their wedding photo.

In the image, Ivan was older, his hair a distinguished gray, his face lined with the wisdom and wear of a life well-lived. He was smiling, his arm wrapped protectively around Lara, who looked radiant in her wedding dress.

Lara stared at the photo, her emotions a storm within her. She felt a lump rise in her throat, a mix of joy and unbearable grief.

Amelia stepped closer, her eyes widening as she recognized the picture. "That’s... that’s you two."

"Yes," Lara whispered, her voice breaking. "It’s us."

Alister leaned over her shoulder, his skepticism melting into shock. "You weren’t lying," he said softly. "You really were married to him."

Lara didn’t respond. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the photo. Memories flooded her mind—of their wedding day, of the vows they had exchanged, of the life they had built together.

Amelia placed a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder. "He loved you," she said gently. "You can see it in his eyes."

Lara nodded, tears welling up. "And I loved him. More than anything."

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps snapped them out of the moment.

Ivan was returning.

"Go!" Lara hissed, shoving the photo back onto the dashboard.

The three of them scrambled away from the car, darting into the shadows just as Ivan emerged from the trees.

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping the area. Lara held her breath, praying he wouldn’t notice them.

After a tense moment, Ivan climbed back into the Škoda. The engine roared to life, and the car pulled away, disappearing down the road.

Lara watched until the car was out of sight, her heart heavy. She turned to Amelia and Alister, her expression unreadable.

"We have to keep moving," she said, her voice steady but strained.

Amelia nodded, taking her daughter’s hand. "We will. But you need to let yourself feel this, Lara. You can’t bottle it up forever."

Lara didn’t respond. She simply started walking, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions.

Behind her, Amelia and Alister exchanged a worried glance. They knew this journey was far from over—and that for Lara, the hardest part was yet to come.

Chapter 8

The sun had set by the time Ivan’s Škoda 1000 MB pulled up to a smaller, well-kept house nestled on the edge of the countryside. Lara, Amelia, and Alister crouched in the shadows, watching as Ivan stepped out of the car and moved purposefully toward the house. He carried himself with the same quiet confidence Lara remembered, but there was something different about him now—something harder, more solitary.

The three remained hidden as Ivan disappeared inside. Moments later, he emerged carrying a few items: a glass bottle filled with what looked like homemade liquor, a wrapped bundle that could only be cured meat, and a carton of fresh eggs. Lara’s breath hitched as she watched him load the supplies into the trunk of his car.

“He makes his own liquor now?” Amelia whispered.

“He did when we were together,” Lara replied, her voice tinged with unease. “But we never had our own livestock. No meat, no fresh eggs. This isn’t like him.”

Alister frowned. “People change. Maybe he picked up new habits. Or maybe this is... another Ivan.”

Lara didn’t answer. She kept her eyes on Ivan as he got back into the Škoda and started the engine. The car rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the encroaching darkness. The trio exchanged a glance before silently agreeing—they would follow him.

They hailed a passing taxi, instructing the driver to keep a discreet distance. Ivan drove at a steady pace, the countryside unfolding around them like a scene from an old postcard. The road curved and dipped, finally leading to a gated estate. The car slowed, and the wrought iron gate creaked open, allowing Ivan to drive inside. The taxi pulled up to the edge of the sprawling estate, its engine idling as Lara, Amelia, and Alister stepped out. They huddled by the gate, watching as Ivan’s Škoda 1000 MB rolled through, the heavy iron gates creaking shut behind him. The mansion loomed in the distance, its grandeur stark against the fading light, but Ivan didn’t head for the main entrance.

Instead, he steered toward a separate building—a garage set apart from the main house. It was modest in size, but the well-maintained exterior hinted at a more practical purpose. The trio moved closer, staying low and out of sight. From their position, they could see Ivan park the Škoda and step out, moving purposefully toward the garage door.

“He’s not just a detective here,” Alister muttered, watching as Ivan pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. “This looks like... something else.”

Amelia frowned. “What else could he be? Chauffeur? Groundskeeper?”

Lara stiffened at the suggestion, her eyes narrowing as Ivan disappeared into the garage. Moments later, the rumble of an engine echoed into the twilight. Slowly, the garage door rose, revealing a gleaming Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow. Its polished body reflected the last rays of daylight, a sharp contrast to Ivan’s humble Škoda.

The sight stunned all three onlookers. “A Rolls-Royce?” Amelia whispered. “Since when does your Ivan drive that?”

Lara didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze stayed fixed on the car, then shifted to Ivan as he maneuvered it out of the garage with practiced precision. His movements were calm, deliberate, as though this were second nature to him.

“He’s... someone’s driver?” Amelia continued, incredulous. “He didn’t exactly strike me as the cultured type.”

Lara finally turned to her mother, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Neither did Winston, and look how he turned out.”

Amelia blinked, caught off guard. “Winston?”

“Our butler. He was Irish. Rough around the edges when he first started, but he could charm anyone when he wanted to. Even you.”

Amelia rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Meanwhile, Alister remained silent, his attention glued to Ivan, who had parked the Rolls-Royce and stepped out, phone in hand. He dialed a number, holding the device to his ear as he paced a few steps.

“Who’s he calling?” Alister muttered.

They watched as Ivan’s expression shifted slightly—a nod here, a curt response there. His voice was too low to hear, but his body language was measured, composed. After a few moments, he hung up and tucked the phone into his pocket. Without hesitation, he returned to the garage and retrieved a bag of supplies from the Škoda’s trunk.

“What’s he doing now?” Amelia asked as Ivan carried the bag toward the estate’s kitchen entrance.

Lara didn’t hesitate. “Cooking.”

“Cooking?” Alister’s skepticism was palpable. “You’re telling me Ivan cooks?”

Lara shrugged. “He had to learn. When he was nineteen, he was on his own. No parents, no help. If he wanted to eat, he had to make it himself.” Her voice softened slightly, her gaze distant. “He wasn’t bad at it either. Back then, he even cooked for me and Winston sometimes.”

Amelia’s brows shot up. “He cooked for you?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Lara replied, her tone teasing. “He didn’t grow up with staff. And he’s always been resourceful when he needed to be.”

Alister raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet. The three watched as Ivan moved inside, his silhouette visible through the lit windows as he set up in the kitchen. He moved with quiet efficiency, pulling out pots and ingredients, clearly at ease in his routine.

Amelia glanced at Lara, her skepticism giving way to a grudging curiosity. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect this. Chauffeur, cook... What else did I miss about him?”

Lara smiled faintly. “A lot, apparently.” Her expression turned thoughtful as she watched Ivan through the window. Despite the mystery surrounding his role here, she felt an odd sense of familiarity. This was the Ivan she had known—practical, self-sufficient, always finding a way to make things work.

But why here? Why now? Those were questions she still couldn’t answer.

As the trio lingered in the shadows, Ivan continued his preparations, oblivious to their presence. Whatever his reasons for being here, one thing was clear—this was no ordinary case, and Ivan Tůma was no ordinary man.

Chapter 9

The aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the estate grounds as Ivan emerged from the kitchen, balancing a tray laden with steaming dishes. His movements were deliberate, steady, and precise, each step reflecting a man who had adapted to a life of purpose and routine. From their hidden vantage point among the trees, Lara and Amelia observed him in silence, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

Lara's hands trembled as she gripped the branch in front of her, her heart pounding in her chest. "He's alive," she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. "But how?"

Amelia shook her head, her face pale. "I don't know, Lara. He’s supposed to be gone. Just like Alister." Her voice wavered, the pain of old wounds resurfacing.

As they watched, Ivan approached the grand double doors of the estate. To their astonishment, the doors swung open, revealing a tall, imposing figure stepping outside. Lara’s breath caught in her throat.

“No...” she murmured, barely audible.

Amelia gasped, clutching her daughter’s arm. “That’s Richard,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s your father, Lara. My husband.”

Lara’s mind reeled. Her father, long dead, stood before them, alive and seemingly unchanged. He accepted the tray from Ivan with a curt nod, his posture as commanding as she remembered.

“What’s going on here?” Amelia whispered, her voice thick with confusion and dread. “Why is Ivan... serving him?”

“I don’t know,” Lara replied, her voice tight. “But I’m going to find out.”

They continued to watch as Ivan exchanged a few brief words with Richard before retreating. Richard disappeared back into the estate, while Ivan walked briskly to his Škoda 1000 MB, parked near a gleaming Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow.

As the engines of both vehicles roared to life, Lara turned to Amelia. "We need to follow them. Come on!"

A nearby taxi idled under a tree, and without hesitation, Lara flagged it down. The driver, a gruff older man, raised an eyebrow as the two women climbed in.

“Follow those cars,” Lara instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The driver shrugged and pulled onto the road, trailing the vehicles at a cautious distance. The countryside blurred past them as the convoy wound through narrow lanes, the evening sky darkening to deep indigo.

The Rolls-Royce led the way to another grand estate. Ivan’s Škoda followed closely, and the trio watched from the taxi as both vehicles came to a stop. Ivan stepped out, his demeanor calm and composed, and walked over to Richard, who had already exited his car.

From their position, Lara and Amelia couldn’t hear the conversation, but their body language spoke volumes. Richard gestured emphatically, while Ivan nodded, his expression unreadable. After a few minutes, Richard turned and entered the second estate, leaving Ivan alone.

“Why is my father here?” Lara murmured, her voice tinged with desperation. “And why is Ivan working for him? This doesn’t make any sense.”

Amelia shook her head, her face etched with worry. “We’re in a place where nothing makes sense. But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Their attention returned to Ivan, who walked back to his Škoda and drove off in a different direction.

“Follow him,” Lara instructed the driver.

The taxi tailed Ivan through the winding roads until he stopped by a serene lakeshore. Lara’s breath hitched as she watched him step out, retrieve a folding chair and a fishing rod from his trunk, and settle by the water’s edge.

She leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s fishing.”

Amelia frowned. “And?”

Lara’s gaze softened, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “This... this is how I met him.”

Amelia looked at her daughter, the realization dawning on her. “You mean in 1989? When you…”

Lara nodded, her eyes fixed on Ivan. “Yes. And I think he remembers.”

Without another word, Lara stepped out of the taxi, her movements deliberate yet silent. She disappeared into the shadows, circling the lakeshore until she reached a flat rock jutting into the water. She climbed onto it, her heart pounding.

From his chair, Ivan squinted at the figure silhouetted against the fading light. His brow furrowed as a distant memory stirred—a memory he had long buried. Before he could fully grasp it, the figure leapt into the air, executing a flawless swan dive into the lake below.

Ivan rubbed his temple, muttering to himself. “I must be losing it. Déjà vu… or something worse.”

The figure disappeared beneath the surface, and Ivan’s eyes remained fixed on the rippling water. Moments later, she emerged, her movements fluid and purposeful. She swam to the shore, and as she approached, Ivan stood, his hand instinctively moving to his belt where a knife rested.

Before he could react, the woman sprang forward, throwing her arms around him. “Ivan!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion.

Ivan froze, his mind struggling to process what was happening. He gently pushed her back, his eyes searching hers. “Lara?” he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief. “How… how are you here? You’re supposed to be…”

“Dead,” Lara finished, her smile bittersweet. “I know. But I’m not.”

Ivan stepped back, shaking his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. You can’t be here."

Lara’s face fell, the weight of loss settling over her. “But I’m here. And I brought someone with me.”

Amelia stepped forward from the shadows, her expression cautious. “Hello, Ivan,” she said softly.

Ivan’s jaw tightened as he studied her. Recognition flickered in his eyes. “Amelia,” he said, his voice low. “You shouldn’t be here either.”

“None of us should,” Amelia replied. “But we are. And we need your help.”

Ivan looked between the two women, his confusion giving way to a quiet determination. “You’d better start explaining,” he said, his voice steady.

Lara smiled, a tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s a long story, Ivan. But for now, just know that we’ve found each other again. And I’m not letting you go this time.”

Chapter 10

Ivan pulled the Škoda 1000 MB up to the front of a grand estate, its elegant facade lit by the golden glow of the evening sun. As the car came to a halt, Richard Croft stepped out of the main entrance, his sharp eyes immediately catching sight of Ivan. There was no surprise in his expression—only an air of quiet expectation.

Amelia’s breath hitched the moment she saw him. Without hesitation, she opened the door and hurried toward him, her heart pounding.

"Richard!" she called out, her voice trembling.

Richard froze, his eyes narrowing as Amelia reached him. For a long moment, he stared at her as if he were looking at a ghost.

"Amelia?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and cautious hope.

She threw her arms around him, holding him tightly. "It’s me," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

Richard slowly returned the embrace, his hands trembling. "How... how is this possible?"

Meanwhile, Ivan stepped out of the car, his expression neutral as he glanced between the reunited couple and Lara, who was now standing beside him. Lara couldn’t help but notice the subtle way Ivan carried himself—his posture deferential, his movements deliberate. He wasn’t just working for Richard; he was serving him.

Richard finally looked over Amelia’s shoulder, his eyes landing on Lara. "Lara?" he said, his voice softening with recognition.

"It’s me, Dad," Lara said with a tentative smile.

Richard’s gaze traveled over her, as if he were trying to reconcile the grown woman before him with the little girl he remembered. "You’ve grown up," he said quietly.

His attention shifted to Alister, standing awkwardly behind the others. "And who’s this?"

"Alister," Lara introduced. "He’s... a friend. He’s been helping me."

Richard’s eyes flicked back to Ivan, and his demeanor changed. The authority in his voice was unmistakable as he addressed him. "Ivan, take their things inside and prepare tea in the sitting room."

Ivan gave a short nod. "Yes, sir."

Lara frowned slightly as she watched Ivan walk to the car’s trunk and begin unloading their bags. She leaned closer to Richard. "Dad, how long has he been working for you?"

"A while," Richard replied casually. "He showed up here some time ago, looking for work. Seemed resourceful, and I figured I could use an extra pair of hands. He’s a good man."

Lara hesitated, the image of Ivan—a former soldier and brilliant investigator—reduced to this role didn’t sit right with her. She wanted to say something but decided against it for now.

Inside the estate, the sitting room was warm and inviting, its walls adorned with family portraits and relics from expeditions long past. Amelia sat close to Richard on one of the plush sofas, her hands never leaving his.

Ivan entered quietly, carrying a silver tray with a teapot, cups, and a plate of biscuits. He set it down with practiced precision and stood back, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Join us, Ivan," Amelia said kindly, motioning for him to sit.

Ivan shook his head slightly. "I’ll stand, ma’am."

Richard didn’t even glance at him as he poured tea for Amelia. "Let him be. He knows his place."

Lara’s jaw tightened at the remark, but she held her tongue.

"So," Richard began, his eyes sweeping over everyone in the room. "You all have a great deal to explain. Starting with you, Amelia. Where have you been all this time?"

Amelia exchanged a glance with Lara before speaking. "It’s complicated, Richard. I wasn’t... alive. But Lara found a way to bring me back."

Richard blinked, stunned into silence. He turned to Lara. "You did this? How?"

"I can’t explain it all now," Lara said. "But I needed to. For her. For us."

Richard leaned back, his gaze distant. "I’ve been in this strange world for so long, I almost forgot what it feels like to have family. And now... you’re here."

Lara nodded, then glanced at Ivan, who was standing in the corner, his face unreadable. "And Ivan?" she asked carefully.

Richard’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What about him?"

"Why is he working for you?"

Richard shrugged. "He offered. Seemed willing enough. And honestly, I needed someone reliable."

"Reliable?" Lara echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Dad, he’s not just some servant. He’s—"

"Enough," Richard interrupted, his tone final. "I don’t question his abilities, Lara. But in this house, everyone serves a purpose. Including him."

Lara bit back her response, her gaze flickering to Ivan. He didn’t react, his stoic demeanor unbroken, but she could see the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—resentment, perhaps, or acceptance.

"Let’s not argue," Amelia interjected softly, her hand on Richard’s arm. "We’re together now. That’s what matters."

Richard nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "Yes, of course. We’ll discuss everything in time. For now, let’s rest. It’s been a long day for all of us."

As the group dispersed to their respective rooms, Lara lingered behind, watching Ivan as he cleared the tea tray.

"Goodnight, Ivan," she said softly.

He glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Goodnight, Lara."

Her heart ached at the way he said her name, so familiar yet distant. She vowed to find a way to free him from this shadow of himself. But for now, she would play along. There were still too many questions that needed answers.

Chapter 11

The evening began like countless others at the Croft estate, with the guests milling about, glasses of fine wine in hand, and the air thick with polite conversation. Ivan moved among them with quiet efficiency, ensuring every detail was perfect, every request fulfilled. Yet beneath his calm exterior, a storm brewed, one that had been building for far too long.

Lara noticed it before anyone else—the subtle clench of Ivan’s jaw, the way his shoulders tensed as Richard barked orders at him from across the room. Each demand came with a condescending comment, a jab that seemed designed to remind Ivan of his "place."

Amelia, standing beside her daughter, whispered, "He’s taking this rather well, considering."

But Lara wasn’t so sure. Her gaze followed Ivan as he disappeared into the music room. Something in his demeanor unnerved her—a quiet intensity, a crack in the armor of patience he had worn for years.

Moments later, the unmistakable riff of a classic rock anthem filled the estate. The lively, defiant sound cut through the stuffy atmosphere like a blade, drawing the attention of every guest. Heads turned toward the music room, and Lara felt her heart quicken.

Richard stormed into the room, his face a mask of fury. "What is this nonsense?" he barked, glaring at Ivan, who stood by the gramophone, his back straight, his hands calm.

"I said, what is this racket?" Richard’s voice rose, echoing off the ornate walls.

Ivan turned slowly, his face impassive, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a spark that hadn’t been there before.

"It’s music," Ivan said simply, his voice steady.

"This isn’t some dingy pub in Prague," Richard snapped. "Turn it off. Now."

When Ivan didn’t move, Richard stepped closer, his finger jabbing toward the gramophone. "I said turn it off!"

And then it happened.

In one swift motion, Ivan reached out and grabbed Richard by the lapels of his suit, pulling him close. The guests gasped, their conversations dying instantly. Even the music seemed to fade into the background as the tension in the room reached a breaking point.

Richard’s eyes widened in shock, his usual arrogance replaced by genuine fear. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?" he sputtered, but Ivan cut him off.

"You think you know everything, don’t you?" Ivan’s voice was low, trembling with suppressed emotion. "You sit here in your ivory tower, looking down on the rest of us, but let me ask you something, pane Crofte."

He shook Richard slightly, his grip firm but not violent. "Did you grow up in poverty? Did you have to watch your father die in a uranium mine because the regime didn’t care if he lived or died?"

Richard tried to pull away, but Ivan held him steady, his voice growing louder.

"Did you bury your mother the same year you graduated high school? Did you step into a world that didn’t give a damn about you, with no one to lean on and nothing to your name?"

The guests stood frozen, their eyes darting between the two men. Lara’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Have you ever worked in a police force where every decision you made could cost you your life? Where the ones meant to protect you beat you senseless because they didn’t like the way you looked at them?"

Ivan’s voice cracked, but he pushed on, his grip unwavering. "Have you ever pulled bloated corpses from a reservoir, trying to identify people who no one else cared about? Or fought so hard to keep up with your daughter, knowing your body couldn’t take it, just so you wouldn’t be a burden to her?"

Tears welled up in Lara’s eyes. She knew these stories, but hearing them now, in front of a room full of strangers, was like reliving them all over again.

"And through all of that," Ivan continued, his voice breaking, "I found something. Someone. Her."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the wedding photograph, holding it up for all to see. "Lara was my wife. My everything. She gave me a reason to keep going when I had none. And you?" Ivan’s eyes burned with rage as they locked onto Richard’s. "You stand there, treating me like I’m dirt beneath your feet, but I am the man she chose. I will always be her husband, no matter what you think."

Richard’s expression twisted with fury. In a swift, violent motion, he snatched the photo from Ivan’s hand and tore it in two.

"You’re nothing," Richard hissed. "Nothing but a relic of her past. Get out of my house."

The silence that followed was deafening. Ivan stood there, staring at the torn photograph in Richard’s hands, his face unreadable.

Lara’s voice broke the stillness, trembling with desperation. "Ivan..."

But he didn’t look at her. Instead, he turned to Richard, a bitter smile curling his lips. "Gladly," he said, his voice heavy with defiance.

He turned and walked out, his steps deliberate, each one echoing in the hushed room.

Lara moved to follow, but Amelia stopped her, her grip firm. "Let him go," she said softly.

"No," Lara whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Not this time."

Amelia’s heart ached for her daughter, but she knew this was a fight Lara would have to face herself.

Chapter 12

Lara ran after Ivan, her mind racing, her heart heavy with confusion and sorrow. When she finally found him, he wasn’t driving away in frustration as she’d feared. Instead, he stood beside his old Škoda MB, pulling on a neatly pressed uniform of the Veřejná bezpečnost (Public Security). The olive-green jacket fit him perfectly, its insignia glinting faintly in the moonlight. On his shoulders rested the unmistakable rank of a first lieutenant.

“Ivan…” Lara hesitated, her voice trembling. “What is this? When were you a first lieutenant?”

Ivan didn’t look at her right away. He was busy adjusting his cuffs, ensuring every detail of his uniform was pristine. “August 1978 to June 1981,” he finally answered, his tone distant.

Lara blinked, unable to reconcile the Ivan she knew with the image in front of her. “Why are you wearing that now?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned into his car, retrieved an old, worn radio, and pressed the button on its side. His voice when he spoke was calm, authoritative, and eerily detached.

“This is VKV-21,” he said. “Requesting immediate backup. Sector 3. Priority one.”

The static crackled briefly before a confirmation came through. Lara’s heart sank further. “Ivan,” she said, stepping closer, “what are you doing?”

He turned to face her, his expression a mixture of determination and sorrow. “What I should have done some time ago,” he replied. He opened the car’s trunk and pulled out a thick file folder, its edges frayed with age.

“Read this,” he said, handing it to her.

Lara’s fingers trembled as she opened the folder. Inside were documents, photographs, and reports. They detailed acts of corruption, illicit transactions, and—her breath caught—evidence linking her father, Richard Croft, to the murders of three of his own servants.

“No…” Lara whispered, flipping through the pages, hoping the next one would disprove the last. But the evidence was undeniable.

Ivan’s voice was firm but not unkind. “I investigated him back then. I had everything I needed to bring him down. But powerful people made sure it never saw the light of day.”

Lara’s world felt as though it was crumbling. Her father, the man she had idolized, wasn’t just flawed—he was a criminal in this realm. She looked up at Ivan, tears brimming in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

He nodded solemnly. “Come with me. There’s more you need to see.”

He led her to the estate’s side entrance and down a narrow staircase into a cold, dimly lit basement. The smell hit her before she saw it—a sickly, pungent stench of decay. In the far corner of the room lay a body, partially decomposed, its features unrecognizable.

Lara recoiled, covering her mouth. “What is this?”

“One of the servants,” Ivan said quietly. “He tried to escape after uncovering too much. This is how Richard silenced him.”

He handed her more documents: crime scene photographs, forensic analyses, testimonies. Each piece fit perfectly into the horrific puzzle. Lara’s hands trembled as she took it all in.

“Ivan…” Her voice broke. “This can’t—”

“I’m sorry, Lara,” he interrupted. “But the truth doesn’t care about what we want to believe.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look at the body again. The image would haunt her, but she needed to face it.

“I have to see this through,” Ivan said, his voice steady.

When they returned to the main hall, the air was thick with tension. Guests whispered among themselves, glancing nervously at Richard Croft, who stood by the bar, pouring himself another drink. He turned when Ivan entered, now fully dressed in his uniform, the badge and insignia shining under the chandelier.

Richard snorted, his lip curling in disdain. “What’s this, Ivan? A costume party?”

Ivan didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled out his badge and identification card, holding them up for all to see. As he did, the faint sound of engines grew louder outside. Moments later, blue lights flashed through the windows as vehicles pulled into the driveway: Volgas, Ladas, Škodas, and even an old Tatra, all marked with the white stripe and the words Veřejná bezpečnost.

The murmurs in the room turned into gasps. Uniformed officers exited the cars, their radios crackling as they coordinated.

Richard’s smirk faltered. “What the hell is this?” he barked.

Ivan stepped forward, his voice calm but commanding. “It’s over, Mr. Croft. You’re under investigation for corruption and the murder of three individuals under your employ.”

The room erupted. Amelia covered her mouth, her face pale. Alister’s normally sharp expression was frozen in disbelief. Lara stood silent, her hands clenched into fists.

“You dare accuse me?” Richard shouted, his voice echoing. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Ivan didn’t flinch. “I know exactly who you are. And for too long, that’s protected you. But tonight, justice doesn’t care about your name or your wealth.”

Two officers stepped forward, ready to apprehend Richard.

“You think I’ll just go with them?” Richard spat, backing away.

Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a choice. I can also shoot you on the spot. ”

Richard turned to the crowd, his desperation evident. “Are you all just going to stand there and let this… this nobody slander me?”

The room remained silent. Even Amelia and Lara couldn’t bring themselves to defend him.

Richard’s protests turned into curses as the officers cuffed him and led him toward one of the waiting Volgas. Ivan stood silently, watching as the man who had once wielded so much power was finally brought low.

As the convoy of vehicles disappeared into the night, the estate felt eerily quiet. Lara approached Ivan, her expression a mixture of sorrow and gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Ivan nodded, his face unreadable. “It’s not over yet.”

With that, he turned and walked to his Škoda, the night swallowing him as the estate stood silent in the wake of justice.

Chapter 13

The interrogation of Amelia Croft concluded, but the work was far from over. Ivan, his calm professionalism unshaken, turned his attention to the other guests. The room was a cacophony of hushed murmurs and indignant whispers, the kind of noise one might hear in a courtroom full of the privileged and entitled.

Lara lingered near the back of the room, her heart heavy. Her mother’s innocence had been proven, but the disdainful air of the aristocratic crowd grated on her nerves. It wasn’t just their arrogance—it was the way they sneered at Ivan, her husband in the real world, treating him as if he were dirt beneath their polished shoes.

Ivan stood at the center of the room, clipboard in hand, a stern look etched on his face. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice firm but measured, "this is an official investigation. Your cooperation is not optional."

One guest, a portly man with a gaudy gold pocket watch, scoffed audibly. "Cooperation?" he repeated, his voice dripping with derision. "Why should we waste our time with you? You’re nothing but a glorified errand boy!"

Lara’s fists clenched at her sides. The insult hit her harder than she expected, like a dagger twisting in her gut.

Ivan, however, remained unfazed. He glanced at the man, his expression one of mild disinterest, as if the insult were beneath even his acknowledgment. "Your name, sir?" he asked coolly.

"Lord Pembroke," the man declared, puffing out his chest. "And you would do well to remember it."

Ivan made a note on his clipboard, his pen scratching against the paper with deliberate precision. "Lord Pembroke," he repeated, his voice calm. "You are hereby fined 500 Kčs for insulting a public official."

The room fell silent, the collective gasp of the gathered elites nearly audible. Lord Pembroke turned an alarming shade of red. "You can’t be serious!" he sputtered.

Ivan looked up from his clipboard, his expression entirely unamused. "Oh, but I am. I suggest you hold your tongue if you don’t wish to add obstruction of justice to your offenses."

A ripple of indignation spread through the crowd. Another guest, a woman draped in pearls, chimed in, her voice shrill. "This is outrageous! Who do you think you are, treating us like common criminals?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Ma’am, I assure you that common criminals are often more cooperative than this." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the room. "Your name, please?"

"Lady Eleanor Whitmore," she snapped, her tone icy.

"Noted," Ivan replied, scribbling on his clipboard. "Another 500 Kčs fine for contemptuous behavior toward a public servant."

The room erupted into murmurs of disbelief. Lara watched as the aristocrats, so accustomed to deference, struggled to process the reality that Ivan was not only unshaken by their scorn but entirely in control of the situation.

Despite her frustration at their treatment of Ivan, a part of her felt a grim satisfaction as he deftly dismantled their airs of superiority. Yet the scene also tore at her heart. These people, who didn’t even know Ivan, dismissed him with the same casual cruelty they likely extended to all who served them.

It was unbearable to watch. Her Ivan, the man she loved and mourned every day, reduced to this—a figure of derision in a world that had no idea of his worth.

As the fines piled up and the insults continued, Ivan remained composed, almost amused at times. One particularly obnoxious guest, a thin man with an overly waxed mustache, leaned forward with a sneer. "You may have your little badges and fines, but don’t forget, you’re nothing more than a servant of the state. A cog in the machine. Men like us—" he gestured to the room, "—we are the ones who truly matter."

Ivan didn’t even blink. "Men like you," he repeated, his tone dry. "I’ll make a note of that."

He flipped the page on his clipboard, his pen poised. "Your name?"

The man hesitated, clearly unused to being challenged. "Baron Charles St. Clair," he said reluctantly.

Ivan’s lips twitched into the faintest of smirks. "Baron St. Clair, 1,000 Kčs for attempted intimidation of an officer of the law."

The aristocrat’s face contorted in fury. "This is absurd!"

"Absurdity," Ivan countered, "is a matter of perspective."

The officers around the room, many of them younger and less experienced, struggled to hide their amusement. It was clear that Ivan’s unflappable demeanor had inspired a quiet respect among them.

For Lara, though, it was a bittersweet moment. She admired Ivan’s strength, his refusal to bow to the venomous words of the elite. But it pained her to see him endure their disdain, knowing what he meant to her and how profoundly they misunderstood him.

As the fines continued and the room descended further into controlled chaos, Amelia approached Lara, her voice low. "He’s remarkable," she said, her tone tinged with awe.

Lara nodded, unable to tear her eyes from him. "He’s more than they’ll ever deserve."

Amelia placed a hand on Lara’s shoulder. "And more than even you know, I suspect."

In that moment, Lara felt the weight of the night press down on her. The revelations about her father, the hostility toward Ivan, and the gnawing uncertainty of what was to come all swirled together in a storm of emotion.

But as she watched Ivan, steady and unwavering in the face of their cruelty, she knew one thing for certain: no matter the reality, no matter the timeline, Ivan Tůma was a man who could not be broken.

Chapter 14

The courtroom was a place where the dead met judgment, yet its atmosphere felt no less alive with tension and whispers. Ivan stood near the center with Lara, Amelia, and Alister at his side. Around them, the spectral figures of the elite of the deceased murmured and shifted in their seats, all eyes focused on the imposing figure of Jaqueline Natla presiding over the trial.

Natla’s presence was as unsettling as it was commanding. Once a goddess, now stripped of divinity and power, she carried an air of authority born from her new mortality. Her voice, sharp and clear, pierced the uneasy silence:

“Richard James Croft, you stand convicted of betrayal, endangerment of humanity, and the destruction of lives. Your punishment is death. The method: execution by gas chamber.”

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Amelia clutched Lara’s arm for support, her face pale with shock. Alister stood frozen, his jaw slack. Even Lara, hardened by years of loss and adventure, looked visibly shaken.

Natla raised her hand to silence the murmurs. Her gaze fixed on Ivan, standing stiffly in his olive-green uniform. “1st Lieutenant Ivan Tůma,” she declared, “the task falls to you. You will execute the sentence.”

Ivan said nothing as he led Richard Croft away from the courtroom. Outside, parked under flickering lights, was a white Škoda 105 SP. This was no ordinary car; it had been modified for an unsettling purpose. The rear compartment was sealed airtight, and the exhaust was routed directly into the enclosed space—a vehicle turned into a gas chamber.

Richard climbed into the backseat without resistance, his expression resigned. Ivan closed the door firmly, taking a moment to compose himself before getting behind the wheel.

The Škoda’s engine came to life, its hum echoing in the cold stillness. Ivan drove in slow, deliberate loops around the compound. Each turn of the wheel felt heavier than the last, the weight of his actions pressing down on him.

Inside the sealed compartment, the inevitable took place. By the time Ivan parked the car and stepped out, the deed was done.

Opening the rear door, he confirmed what he already knew: Richard Croft was dead.

When Ivan returned to the others, their faces reflected a mix of shock, horror, and grim acceptance. Amelia swayed unsteadily, her hand pressed to her mouth, while Lara’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists.

Alister broke the silence. “He’s… gone, then?” His voice wavered, uncharacteristically unsure.

Ivan nodded. “It’s over.”

Even Natla, who had once delivered far crueler judgments in her immortal days, seemed momentarily stunned by the quiet efficiency of it all. Her lips parted, as though to speak, but no words came. Finally, regaining her composure, she gave Ivan his next order.

“The body must be disposed of properly,” she said, her voice firm again. “Take him to the Helheim pit. Let his soul descend where it belongs.”

Ivan, unflinching, obeyed. With grim determination, he loaded Richard’s lifeless body back into the Škoda and drove to the edge of the pit—a black abyss that seemed to swallow the light around it. Without ceremony, he tipped the body in, watching it disappear into the void.

When Ivan returned to the group, the tension remained palpable. Natla, surprisingly, broke the silence with an unexpected gesture.

“I owe you an apology, Alister,” she said, her voice softer than anyone had heard it before. “For your death. I see now… mortality changes one’s perspective.”

Alister blinked, caught off guard. “I—uh—thank you,” he stammered, unsure how to respond.

Natla nodded solemnly before turning to Ivan. “You’ve done what needed to be done. But now, it’s time for all of us to leave this place. I will accompany you, if you allow it. I… I wish to live again, to have a mortal life and redeem what I’ve done.”

Ivan’s brow furrowed, but Lara stepped in. “Let her come,” she said. “She’s not the same as before. None of us are.”

With that, they walked to Ivan’s personal car: a black Škoda 1000 MB, still pristine despite the otherworldly setting. It was the same car they had arrived in, but now, as they climbed inside, it felt like a vehicle of salvation, carrying them away from the realm of the dead.

The car was full: Ivan behind the wheel, Lara by his side, Amelia and Alister in the back, and Natla squeezed in beside them. As Ivan started the engine, its deep growl echoed into the night, blending with the strange sounds of the ethereal landscape.

“Ivan,” Lara said softly, her voice filled with determination, “take us home.”

He didn’t respond, but the car lurched forward, its headlights piercing through the gloom. As they approached the portal to Helheim, its swirling energy glowing faintly, the group fell silent. Each of them was lost in thought, contemplating the journey ahead—back to the realm of the living, where new challenges awaited.

The Škoda’s wheels hit the edge of the portal, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Then, with a sudden burst of light, they were gone.

Their journey wasn’t over, but for now, they were heading home—together.

Chapter 15

The black Škoda 1000 MB reappeared in Helheim with a sputter and a clunk, its wheels crunching against the rocky, desolate ground. The air was thick, cold, and oppressive, as if the entire realm resented their presence. The sky hung low, a swirling mass of ash-gray clouds tinged with faint blue flickers of unnatural lightning. Ivan gripped the wheel tightly, steering the car through the barren terrain littered with jagged rocks and skeletal remains.

Lara sat beside him, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon, while Amelia and Alister occupied the back seats. Alister adjusted his tie nervously, his face pale in the dim light. Amelia clutched her handbag, her lips pressed into a thin line. They had barely settled when the faint sound of shuffling reached their ears.

“They’re coming,” Lara murmured, her voice calm but firm.

“Of course, they are,” Ivan muttered. “This place is a magnet for everything that’s already dead but refuses to stay that way.”

From the gloom, the thralls began to appear—shambling, rotted figures with glowing eyes that seemed to burn with an unholy light. One stepped forward, its features grotesquely distorted but vaguely recognizable. Lara’s breath hitched.

“Richard,” she whispered.

Ivan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, his expression hardening. He brought the car to a screeching halt, the thrall lurching closer.

Without a word, Ivan threw open the door and stepped out, his boots crunching against the gravelly ground. He stared down the figure that was once Richard Croft, now a grotesque mockery of the man he had been.

“Well, this is awkward,” Ivan said dryly. The thrall groaned, its twisted body moving with jerky, unnatural movements. Ivan sighed and, without much ceremony, delivered a swift kick that sent the creature sprawling.

“That was—efficient,” Alister commented from the back seat.

“Not in the mood for theatrics,” Ivan replied, walking to the front of the car. His sharp intake of breath drew Lara’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping out to join him.

Ivan crouched down, running a hand over the dented bumper and inspecting the scratched paint. “They scratched it,” he muttered, his tone low and dangerous. “This car’s been through hell—literally—and these undead clowns think they can wreck it?”

“It’s just a car,” Alister said, stepping out cautiously.

Ivan stood up abruptly, fixing him with a glare. “It’s not just a car,” he snapped. “This was my mother’s. She bought it a week before she died—July 21, 1969. After that, it was all I had left of her. I’ve been driving this thing for twenty-five years, and it’s still going strong. So, no, it’s not just a car.”

Alister raised his hands in a placating gesture, taking a step back. “Fair enough. I didn’t realize.”

Lara placed a hand on Ivan’s shoulder, her expression softening. “Let’s get through this,” she said quietly. “The car will survive. It always does.”

Ivan nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s clear the road.”

With a firm grip, Ivan held out his hand, and Lara passed him Mjölnir. He hefted the hammer with ease, its weight and power radiating through his arm. The thralls, undeterred by their fallen comrade, continued their advance.

“Step aside,” Ivan growled, his voice carrying a sharp edge.

The first swing of Mjölnir sent a bolt of lightning crashing into the ground, scattering the thralls like dried leaves in a storm. The second swing vaporized the closest ones, their bodies disintegrating into ash. Ivan moved with practiced efficiency, each strike precise and deliberate.

When the way was clear, he handed the hammer back to Lara, brushing his hands off as if he’d just completed a mundane chore.

“Done. Let’s move,” he said, striding back to the car.

Amelia peeked out cautiously, her face pale. “Is it safe now?”

“As safe as it’s gonna get,” Ivan replied, climbing back into the driver’s seat.

Lara lingered outside for a moment, her gaze lingering on the scattered remains of the thralls. Without a word, she turned and got back in the car.

The journey continued in tense silence, broken only by the occasional groans of distant thralls and the low rumble of the Škoda’s engine. When they reached the shore, a faint glow on the horizon signaled the presence of water.

Lara and Amelia climbed out, carrying their equipment. Ivan’s eyes narrowed as he noticed their attire.

“Why are you both wearing wetsuits?” he asked, his tone somewhere between incredulous and annoyed.

“They’re neoprene,” Lara corrected, smirking slightly. “We’ll be diving. There’s a yacht waiting for us.”

“In Helheim,” Ivan repeated flatly. “And you thought bringing a yacht was a good idea?”

“It’s practical,” Amelia said defensively.

Ivan waved them off, muttering under his breath. “Go. Dive around. Do your thing. We’ll stay here and babysit the car.”

Natla, who had been watching silently, finally spoke. “You’re actually going through with this? Swimming in that?”

“Unless you have a better idea,” Lara replied, adjusting her gear.

Natla rolled her eyes and followed reluctantly. “If I drown, I’m blaming you.”

While Lara, Amelia, and Natla descended into the icy waters, Ivan and Alister stayed behind. Ivan leaned against the hood of the Škoda, his arms crossed, watching the rippling surface of the water.

“She’ll be fine,” Alister said, though his voice lacked conviction.

“I’m not worried about her,” Ivan replied. “I’m worried about this damn place. Always more surprises.”

Alister chuckled weakly, pulling out a book and settling into the passenger seat to read. Ivan, meanwhile, reached under the dashboard, pressing a concealed button.

Minutes later, a faint rumble echoed from the water.

On the yacht, Lara and Amelia surfaced, their expressions triumphant. But their relief turned to shock as they noticed a black shape emerging from the water.

With a loud whoosh, the Škoda 1000 MB appeared on the deck, its wheels dripping with seawater. Ivan leaned out of the driver’s seat, looking smug.

“Miss me?” he called out.

Lara sighed, shaking her head. “You never fail to surprise me.”

As the yacht sailed away from Helheim, Ivan busied himself with repairing the Škoda, muttering curses under his breath. Lara leaned against the railing, watching him with a faint smile. Amelia stood nearby, her eyes soft as she observed the scene.

“He really is something, isn’t he?” Amelia said quietly.

Lara nodded. “He’s been through more than most, and he’s still standing. That’s Ivan.”

Natla, sitting at the edge of the deck, stared out at the open sea. “Being mortal sucks,” she muttered, earning a chuckle from Alister, who was still absorbed in his book.

The black Škoda sat quietly on the deck, a battered yet resilient relic of Ivan’s past, ready for whatever came next.

Chapter 16

The black Škoda 1000 MB rolled up to the gates of Croft Manor, its engine purring softly as Ivan brought it to a stop. The grandeur of the estate loomed before them, its familiar silhouette bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Lara leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight of her childhood home. Beside her, Amelia’s eyes sparkled with recognition.

“It’s just as I remember,” Lara murmured, a mixture of awe and nostalgia in her voice.

Amelia nodded, her voice soft. “It’s almost like nothing has changed.”

In the back seat, Alister looked visibly stunned. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly struggling to process what he was seeing. Finally, he spoke, his tone tinged with disbelief.

“But… the last time I saw it, it was in flames. This… this can’t be real.”

“It’s real,” Lara assured him, her voice steady. “Every detail, exactly how it was.”

Natla, seated beside Alister, frowned, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Why do I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on here?”

“Because you are,” Ivan replied dryly, shutting off the engine. “Welcome to Croft Manor. Try not to touch anything.”

The group stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching underfoot as they approached the main entrance. The massive double doors opened slowly, revealing Winston waiting in the doorway, his ever-present tray in hand. His gaze landed on Lara first, and a flicker of unease crossed his face.

“Miss Lara,” he said, his voice steady but cautious. “You look… different.”

Lara stepped forward, her hands raised slightly in a gesture of reassurance. “Winston, it’s me. I’m mortal now. No tricks, no immortality. Just me.”

Winston studied her for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing. Then, with a small nod, he stepped aside, allowing her to enter. “Very well. Welcome home.”

As they filed into the grand foyer, Ivan’s eyes roamed over the familiar surroundings. Everything was exactly as he remembered—grand chandeliers, polished floors, and walls lined with priceless art. His gaze landed on a small table near the staircase, where a framed photo caught his attention.

He walked over and picked it up, his brows furrowing as he studied the image. It was a wedding photo, one he hadn’t seen in years. He looked older in the picture, his hair streaked with gray, his face lined with age. Standing beside him was Lara, radiant in her wedding dress.

“How old do I look in this?” Ivan asked aloud, turning the frame toward the others.

“Sixty, maybe a bit more,” Lara replied, stepping closer to him.

Ivan set the photo back down with a small, wistful smile. “I’m thirty-six now. Strange, seeing a version of myself that I haven’t lived yet.”

“You’ll get there,” Lara said softly.

As the group explored the manor, Ivan made his way to the garage. The familiar scent of oil and metal greeted him as he stepped inside. His eyes scanned the rows of cars, each one gleaming under the overhead lights.

There they were, just as he’d left them: the sleek BMW 535d, the classic BMW 502, the imposing Mercedes 600, the rare Škoda Super Estelle, the sturdy Volga, and the practical Škoda Forman. Each vehicle was pristine, clearly maintained with care over the years.

A slow smile spread across Ivan’s face as he ran a hand over the hood of the Super Estelle. “They kept everything,” he murmured.

Lara appeared in the doorway, watching him with a warm expression. “You expected anything less?”

Ivan turned to her, his smile softening. “Thank you, Lara. For everything. For bringing me back to… all this. To a normal life.”

Lara stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve done more for me than I can ever repay. Having you here… it means everything.”

In the manor’s living room, Amelia sat with Winston, the two of them exchanging quiet words as they sipped tea. Natla lingered near the window, her expression unreadable as she stared out at the expansive grounds. Alister had claimed an armchair and was flipping through an old photo album, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Lara and Ivan joined them, the warmth of the room enveloping them as they settled in. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the tension that had hung over them began to lift.

Lara glanced around, her heart full. She had her mother, her husband, and her closest friends all under one roof. For the first time in years, Croft Manor truly felt like home again.