Family Secret

Chapter 12

The waiting hall’s chatter stilled when the doors creaked open. A tall steward in black-and-gold livery gestured. “Atkins family.”

Nate straightened his coat, his accent sharper than ever as he murmured, “Remember—smiles, composure, and no bloody surprises.” His eyes lingered on Ryan for a beat too long.

They entered a richly paneled office smelling faintly of ink and oiled brass. Behind the mahogany desk sat the Headmaster, his steel-gray hair slicked back, monocle gleaming. His gaze swept over the four of them like a hawk assessing prey.

“Mr. Atkins, Mrs. Atkins. Children.”

“Headmaster,” Nate said smoothly, dipping his chin. His British cadence was polished, professional, almost disarming. He placed a guiding hand on Alexia’s back as they took their seats.

Ryan sat stiffly, eyes darting as he tried to read the Headmaster’s surface thoughts—testing for traps, for motives. They blurred in fragments: discipline… pedigree… potential assets. He swallowed hard, gripping his knees.

Kyan swung her legs, oblivious to the gravity of the moment. “Mommy’s been our mommy for a year and a half and loves us very much.”

Ryan’s stomach dropped.

The Headmaster’s brow arched, gaze flicking briefly to Nate. “A year and a half?”

“Yes,” Nate said quickly, his voice like velvet over steel. He leaned forward, redirecting. “Though time matters less than bond, wouldn’t you agree, Headmaster? A family’s strength lies in its unity, not its years.”

The Headmaster studied him a moment longer, then nodded slightly, letting the matter slide.

The questions began—sharp, probing, layered.

“Why choose Star Academy?”

Nate leaned in smoothly. “For its discipline and prestige. I want my children molded by the best—where expectations are clear, and excellence is non-negotiable.”

“And you, Mrs. Atkins?” The Headmaster’s monocle glinted.

Alexia folded her hands delicately on her lap, her smile warm but measured. “Because this institution values precision. Structure. I believe children thrive when expectations are defined but not oppressive.”

Ryan’s chest tightened. Her voice was silk, her body language impeccable. He reached again, brushing against her thoughts—and felt nothing but an iron wall. Cold, smooth, impenetrable. She’s masking herself, he realized. She knows how to shield her mind.

The Headmaster shifted tactics, throwing subtle curveballs. “Suppose your children were… less capable than their peers. How would you handle their failure?”

“Failure is merely proof of effort,” Alexia answered without hesitation. “It means the child has tested their limits and learned them. That is valuable. We’d guide them to push further next time.” Her smile never faltered.

The Headmaster tried again. “And what if they displayed… rebellious tendencies?”

Alexia tilted her head slightly, eyes bright but cool. “Then I would know they possess spirit. Spirit can be shaped. Broken, it is useless.”

Even Nate blinked at that answer, but Alexia’s serene expression never wavered. Her beauty softened the sharpness of her words, making them sound almost motherly.

The Headmaster chuckled low in his chest, leaning back. “Mr. Atkins… you are a very lucky man.”

Nate glanced at her, something unspoken flickering across his face. “Yes,” he said softly. “I am.”

And just like that, the interview was over.

The Headmaster rose, extending a hand. “That will be all for today. You’ll receive our decision soon.”

As they filed out, Ryan’s pulse still hammered. He glanced at Alexia, who adjusted her sleeve as though nothing had happened. She was flawless. Untouchable. And he couldn’t decide if that terrified him more—or comforted him.

The carriage ride home was thick with silence. The twins exchanged furtive glances, while Alexia folded her hands neatly in her lap. The streetlamps outside cast fleeting golden stripes across Nate’s jaw tight, eyes fixed on the road.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose. “Well,” he said, voice clipped and unmistakably British. “That could have gone better.”

Ryan braced. “We didn’t—mess it up, did we?”

“You both need to understand,” Nate said firmly. “That little slip nearly derailed the entire thing. We cannot afford mistakes. Which means—” His eyes flicked, locking on them. “—you must pass the entrance exam. Not scrape by. Pass with flying colours. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Ryan murmured.

Kyan gave a thumbs up. “Flying colours, got it.”

Nate didn’t look convinced.

That night, the dining table became a makeshift schoolroom. Books, quills, and slates cluttered every inch. Nate sat opposite the twins, drilling them relentlessly.

“Define an ethical paradox. Kyan?”

“Uh…” She squinted at the page. “It’s… when you’re stuck in a paradox that’s ethical?”

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. “For heaven’s sake.” He tapped the table. “Again. Slowly. You will not go in unprepared.”

Ryan leaned closer to his sister, whispering, “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

He had already mapped it out. During the exam, he would make sure they sat beside Clint—the top student candidate whose mind was like an open book. Ryan would read his answers directly, then tap the responses to Kyan in Morse code beneath the table. They’d used it at the orphanage to pass secret notes and play pranks. This time, it wouldn’t just be fun—it would save them. It was flawless.

Kyan looked at him, wide-eyed. “Like old times?”

“Exactly like old times.”

Hours passed, Nate pushing them harder. His worry showed not in outbursts, but in the rigid set of his shoulders, the clipped edge of his voice. For the first time, Ryan wondered if the unflappable spy might actually be afraid of failing.

Finally, Alexia appeared in the doorway, barefoot, her hair loose, dressed in a soft linen blouse and trousers. Her usual sharp poise was softened by comfort, and yet somehow, she looked no less commanding.

“Nathaniel,” she said calmly, stepping inside. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Nate looked up sharply. “They cannot afford to fail. You saw how precarious it was this afternoon. If they stumble again—”

Alexia sighed, walking closer. “I know. I know how important this is.” She hesitated, then added gently, “It was your late wife’s wish, wasn’t it?”

Nate froze. The words echoed through him like a shot. His late wife. The wife who had never existed. The wife he had invented for his cover story. He clenched his jaw, trying to push back the bitterness of the lie.

Alexia stepped closer still and, without hesitation, placed a hand on his shoulder.

He almost flinched. Almost.

But instead—something strange happened.

The tension in his chest loosened. The restless storm of thoughts quieted. For the first time in years, Nate felt… still. As if the weight of the mission, the masks, the endless vigilance… slipped away for just a heartbeat.

Her touch shouldn’t have mattered. She wasn’t supposed to matter. She was part of the cover, part of the act, nothing more. But his pulse betrayed him. His body betrayed him. That simple contact calmed him in a way nothing and no one ever had.

Nate cleared his throat roughly, breaking the moment. “Fine,” he said, turning away. “That’s all for tonight. But we resume tomorrow.”

Alexia gave him that serene smile—the same one that had disarmed the Headmaster earlier—and gently drew the twins from the table.

Nate remained behind, staring at his untouched notes. His hands trembled faintly before he clasped them together. He was the perfect spy, trained never to get close, never to care. Yet one touch from her, and for the briefest moment… he had almost forgotten it was all fake.

The twins went upstairs for bed, Ryan slipping into their room after brushing his teeth. Kyan was already curled up with her doll, humming softly as she braided its synthetic hair.

Ryan crouched down beside her bed, whispering low.

“Kyan, listen. Tomorrow, during the exam, I’ll sit next to Clint. I’ll read his mind and get the answers. I’ll tap them to you in Morse code—like we used at the orphanage, remember? You just need to pay attention, okay?”

Kyan giggled, still humming, her doll pressed against her cheek.

“It’s ok, Ry. We’re going to get in.”

Ryan furrowed his brow. “What? Did you even hear what I just said?”

Kyan gave him a big, innocent grin. “I saw it. We don’t need to study, don’t need your tapping. We’ll get in either way.”

Ryan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, sure. We’ll ‘get in’—by me cheating for you. Don’t mess this up, Kyan.”

But she only giggled, rolled over, and tucked the doll under the blanket with her. Ryan stood there for a moment, frustrated, before quietly crawling into his bed.

Downstairs, Nate and Alexia were clearing the table, the sound of clinking dishes filling the otherwise quiet kitchen.

Nate exhaled, his jaw tight but his voice softer than usual.

“Thank you… for smoothing things over with the headmaster. You really saved the day.”

Alexia froze mid-step, blinking. No one had ever thanked her for anything before. She lowered her eyes briefly, then gave him a faint, genuine smile.

“Well… it’s my job, isn’t it? A wife—” she paused, testing the word on her tongue, “—and mother is supposed to stand up for her family.”

Nate’s lips twitched, almost a smirk, but there was something else there too.

“Yeah… but you made it seem real.”

The silence between them grew almost heavy until her phone buzzed on the counter. Alexia glanced at the caller ID, then excused herself with a polite smile and answered.

The voice on the other end spoke fast, in clipped, deliberate code.

“Emergency at work. Night shift. Priority breach. Housing unit—Order-controlled.”

Her expression didn’t change, but her hand tightened on the phone.

“I’ll be right there,” she said smoothly. Hanging up, she slid the device back into her pocket.

She returned to the kitchen, her voice calm, casual.

“There’s an emergency at work. I have to cover the night shift, but I’ll be back before the children leave for their exam.”

Nate nodded once, almost mechanical. He should’ve let her walk out, but before he realized it, the words slipped from his mouth.

“Be careful.”

The statement startled him more than it did her. Alexia tilted her head, then smiled.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

She winked, then pulled her coat around her shoulders and closed the door behind her.

Nate stood frozen for a long moment, staring at the door. His chest tightened with an unfamiliar pressure. He shook it off with a sharp breath, muttering under his breath.

“She’s just a disposable asset. Nothing more. I need her alive… for now.”

Yet, despite the words, his hand brushed his shoulder where her touch had lingered earlier, and his jaw clenched as if he didn’t quite believe himself.