Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 415: You Look Ready

Chapter 415 – You Look Ready

Rava didn’t smile, but her eyes flicked to Ariel briefly. Her expression softened just enough to be human. "You look ready."

Ariel shifted nervously, brushing invisible lint from her coat. "I don’t feel ready."

The room was quiet.

No music. No chatter.

Just a round table, simple but elegant. Carafe of water. Some untouched fruit.

And them.

The couple.

A man and woman, both with silver-blue hair and eyes like calm skies before a storm. The resemblance to Ariel was immediate. Not just in features—though that alone was enough to make Ariel stop breathing—but in posture. That nervous tightness around the shoulders. That way of sitting with too-straight backs, as if they were taught to hide fragility with posture.

The woman stood first. Slowly.

And Ariel couldn’t move.

Her legs didn’t work.

Her voice didn’t work.

Her heart slammed so hard in her chest it drowned out everything else.

She didn’t know where to start.

Did she say hi?

Did she say I’m sorry?

Did she say why didn’t you find me?

She didn’t have to decide.

Because Lux stepped forward.

Professional. Smooth. His entire presence shifted from charming incubus to elite CFO in a single blink.

He bowed slightly, formal but not exaggerated. "Thank you for coming. I’m Lux Vaelthorn. You’ve likely received my messages."

The man nodded stiffly. "You’re the one who contacted us regarding—" He glanced at Ariel, then quickly looked away. "—regarding her."

Sira stepped in next, giving a slight bow as well, lips pressed into a polite expression. She looked every inch the distant, aristocratic heiress. Elegant. Controlled. Not a trace of champagne mischief in sight.

"And this," Lux continued, gesturing to Ariel with an open palm, "is Ariel. We appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice. Please, let’s sit. We’d like to explain everything calmly, and give you the full picture."

The couple hesitated—but nodded.

Lux waited until everyone was seated, then poured water for Ariel first, before setting the bottle aside and folding his hands on the table.

Ariel sat stiffly, between Lux and Sira, her hands clamped in her lap. She couldn’t stop staring at the woman. Her eyes. Her mouth. They looked so much like hers.

Lux began.

"So..." he said slowly, "I’ve been investigating a number of bloodline irregularities in the upper circles. During this time, I came across data pertaining to a girl—Ariel—who had been reported deceased as an infant nearly two decades ago."

The woman gasped faintly.

The man reached over, gently taking her hand.

"I won’t waste your time with theories," Lux continued. "What we discovered is that Ariel was not dead. She was taken. Hidden in plain sight. Raised under a false family with no regard for her well-being, and subjected to systemic abuse. She only recently escaped that situation."

Sira said nothing, but her eyes were sharp, locked on every twitch the couple made.

Lux’s voice softened. "There is no accusation here. No blame. We know the circumstances were manipulated beyond your control. What matters now is that Ariel is here. And we believe she is yours."

Silence.

Then the woman’s voice, barely above a whisper. "How can we be sure?"

"We need to take the test. I understand this is overwhelming," he began, his voice smooth and composed, the kind that could sell kingdoms. "So let me keep this simple. There is no pressure today to make declarations or decisions. But I would like to provide you with a starting point."

The couple said nothing, but the man leaned forward. Listening.

Lux folded his hands neatly, glancing at Ariel briefly before returning to them. "A DNA test is the most straightforward path. If you’re willing, we can arrange it through neutral medical facilities. Clean. Private. Anonymous if preferred."

The woman inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

"But beyond that," Lux continued, "there are other things. Your bloodline is rare. Besides... only very few mermaid-blooded in this realm. And more than that..."

He paused, letting it sink in.

"She produces pearls," he said softly. "Not the average kind. Enchanted."

The man blinked. The woman froze.

"Mermaid pearls," Lux added, "are usually the result of deep bloodline purity. They’re linked to emotional or suppressed power. Rare, unstable in most cases. But hers—" he gestured to Ariel without needing to touch her, "—are consistent. Controlled. Natural."

The woman whispered, "Enchanted... pearls?"

A soft clink answered her.

Rava, seated quietly near the side, reached into her purse and pulled out a small, clear case. Inside sat a single pearl—softly glowing from within, faint iridescent light pulsing in time with the room’s silence.

"I borrowed one from my cousin," she said smoothly. "He got it in an underground auction, not knowing what it was. It’s one of hers."

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth.

The man stared. Hard.

Ariel felt her blood freeze. Not because of fear. But because they looked like her. Because they felt like her. Like echoes in the mirror.

Lux let the moment hang, then nodded once, gently.

"But again," he said, voice level, "none of that matters until you confirm it. I’m not here to make emotional appeals. Only facts. She’s likely your daughter—the one you were told was dead. But it’s your right to know for certain. DNA will give you that clarity."

There was a long silence.

Then the woman looked at Ariel.

Really looked.

Her expression cracked—carefully held composure splintering under the weight of something deeper than memory.

But Ariel... held herself together.

Barely.

She didn’t sob. Didn’t reach across the table. Didn’t throw herself into the woman’s arms or scream why didn’t you find me? because deep down—she knew.

They hadn’t lost a daughter they knew.

They’d lost a daughter they’d never even met.

She was taken before they could hold her.

Before they could sing to her.

Before they could even name her properly.

So how could she blame them?

How could she break when they looked like they were barely breathing?

Still, it hurt.

Gods, it hurt.

That aching, hollow scream that never had words, only pressure—tight in her ribs, pressing against her throat.

Because she wanted to cry.