Family Secret

Chapter 16

The courtyard of the academy buzzed with hushed whispers and nervous laughter. Families lined the cobblestone square, children tugging on their parents’ sleeves, mothers straightening their children’s collars, fathers standing stiff and expectant. The towering stone walls of the academy loomed above them all, a silent reminder of the weight of what was at stake.

Nate stood among the crowd with his usual poise, expression unreadable, his sharp gaze flicking over each family with the same calculating precision he gave every mission. Beside him, Kyan giggled uncontrollably, clutching at his sleeve and making little hops every time she thought the headmaster might appear. She tugged insistently at his hand until, finally, Nate sighed and let her cling to his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered lowly, though his lips twitched almost imperceptibly when she grinned up at him like he’d just given her the world.

Ryan stood apart, head lowered, shoulders curled inward. He stared at his shoes, trying to steady his breathing, dread sitting heavy in his chest. What if they didn’t get in? What if Nate sent them back? Or worse…

A soft touch on his shoulder pulled him from the spiral. Alexia.

Her hand was warm, steady, not rough like the blows he was used to at the orphanage. When Ryan lifted his eyes, she offered a small smile, her long blonde hair brushing across her shoulder.

But then—he slipped into her mind.

And what he saw made his blood run cold.

Her thoughts weren’t calm reassurance. They were sharp, jagged, laced with cruelty. If they don’t take the children, I’ll make them. The headmaster will break. I’ll string him up by his thumbs, carve the answers into his skin if I must. Nails, knives, fire—oh, persuasion comes in many forms.

Ryan’s eyes widened, his heart hammering. He couldn’t pull out fast enough. Images hit him like a storm—her hands, gloved and steady, pressing hot iron against flesh. A blade under fingernails. A voice like honey masking words sharp as razors. Torture so vivid, so methodical it made him want to vomit.

He flinched back, shoving her thoughts out of his mind. His throat was tight, his stomach twisting.

But when he glanced up at her, Alexia was just… smiling softly at him, her hand still resting gently on his shoulder. To anyone else, she looked kind. Protective, even.

The clash between what he knew and what she showed made his head spin.

Before he could think further, a hush swept through the courtyard.

The academy doors creaked open.

The headmaster stepped out, his robes immaculate, his silver-framed spectacles catching the sunlight. He carried a ledger in one hand, the sound of its heavy clasp snapping open echoing in the square.

“All families who pass the exam will be announced now,” he declared, his voice deep and commanding.

Ryan swallowed hard.

The first name rang out.

“The Monroe family—Miguel Monroe.”

A ripple went through the crowd. Miguel, a dark-haired boy with sharp eyes, stood proudly at his father’s side. Cisco Monroe placed a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder, lips curving in approval. Nate’s gaze flicked toward them, cool and unreadable, though Ryan swore he felt something colder coil off him like smoke.

“The Po family—Miha Po.”

A tiny girl squealed with delight, hugging her mother’s legs while her father gave a restrained nod.

“The Bowmen family—Elijah Bowmen.”

All eyes shifted briefly toward the tall, broad-shouldered man standing with folded arms. The district head of the Secret Service. His son Elijah stood ramrod straight, already carrying himself like he wore a badge.

“The Reese family—Clint Reese.”

Ryan’s heart sank at the name. Clint. The boy who breezed through tests with ease, who didn’t even need to try.

One by one, more names were called. Each announcement tightening the coil in Ryan’s chest, each cheer from another family making his stomach churn harder. His palms grew sweaty, his heart thudding like a drum.

Then—the ledger snapped slightly, as though the headmaster himself was surprised. He adjusted his spectacles, brows lifting.

“And the Atkins family. Ryan and Kyan Atkins.”

Ryan’s head shot up.

For a moment he didn’t believe it. His chest froze, then loosened in a rush of air that nearly made him dizzy.

Kyan squealed with delight, her giggles spilling out as she clapped her hands and tugged harder on Nate’s arm. “We made it! We made it!”

Ryan just stood there, wide-eyed, his heart hammering in disbelief.

They got in.

The crowd slowly dispersed into smaller clusters of families, chatter rising again as the tension bled out of the courtyard. Children laughed and tugged on their parents, running circles around the cobblestones, already dreaming of what awaited them inside the academy walls.

Ryan kept glancing between Nate and Alexia, trying to gauge their reactions. Nate’s expression remained perfectly schooled, but his jaw ticked—subtle, sharp, a sure sign he was already calculating the next step. Alexia, on the other hand, wore her warm, practiced smile, the kind that made her seem approachable, almost motherly.

It wasn’t long before three families broke off from the crowd and made their way toward them.

First were Clint’s parents. Margaret Reese, with an elegant sunhat, with her husband Thomas trailing behind, a man who looked like he was permanently balancing numbers in his head. Their son Clint, with his sharp smirk, stuck close to them.

Then came Miha’s parents, the Po family, quiet and reserved but clearly pleased, their daughter bouncing excitedly between them.

Finally, Elijah’s parents—the Bowmens—strode over. Mr. Bowmen’s presence was like a wall, his posture stiff, his gaze cool and assessing. His wife smiled politely, though there was a touch of guardedness in her eyes.

“Well, isn’t this exciting?” Margaret beamed, her voice carrying the kind of charm that filled any silence. “All our children getting in together. It’s like fate lined everything up.”

Thomas chuckled. “A rare thing indeed.”

Margaret clapped her hands together, eyes bright. “We should celebrate! We’re hosting a barbecue this weekend at our house. We’ve got a pool, a playground in the back for the little ones—it’ll be perfect. The children can start getting to know each other outside of school walls.”

Ryan felt Nate shift beside him. He knew that tone, that pause. Nate was about to politely decline, the way he did with nearly everything that wasn’t mission-oriented.

But before Nate could open his mouth, Alexia spoke with easy warmth.

“We’d love to,” she said smoothly.

Margaret’s smile brightened even further. “Wonderful! I’ll give you our address and phone number.” She reached into her purse, pulling out a notepad and scribbling neatly before tearing the page free.

She handed it to Alexia.

Alexia accepted it with a graceful nod, but as she tucked it into her pocket, Margaret’s eyes flicked downward—sharp, observant.

“You’re not wearing your wedding ring,” Margaret said casually, but there was an undertone of curiosity, the kind that pried beneath polite surfaces.

Alexia hesitated for the briefest of seconds. Too brief for most to catch—but Ryan did. His stomach clenched.

Nate, however, didn’t miss a beat. His voice was calm, casual, the lie slipping off his tongue with effortless precision.

“We’re having it resized,” he said, smooth as glass.

Margaret’s brow arched slightly, as though weighing the explanation, but her smile never faltered. “Oh, of course. I had to do the same with mine once. Can’t have it slipping off.”

Alexia only smiled, though Ryan noticed the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly before softening again, her mask sliding back into place.

Later that night, silence filled the house. The twins were tucked away in their beds, their soft breathing carrying faintly through the halls. Alexia’s room door was shut, no sound escaping from within.

Nate lay in his own bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The quiet should have been comforting, but for him it was always strategy’s backdrop. His mind moved like a well-oiled machine, dissecting, planning, calculating.

It was up to the children now. Ryan and Kyan had to befriend Miguel Monroe. Shouldn’t be too difficult, he thought. Children were malleable, eager to connect. All it would take was the right nudge, the right opportunity. Still, the weight of his mission pressed firmly against his chest—failure wasn’t an option.

His thoughts wandered back, unexpectedly, to Margaret Reese’s pointed observation earlier that day. Alexia’s bare finger.

A ring. He would need to get one for her.

The thought seemed simple enough at first, but then his mind lingered, turning it over with a meticulousness that unsettled him. What kind of ring? An engagement ring? A wedding band? Perhaps both—appearances mattered, after all.

She was beautiful, there was no denying it. He had seen how the men looked at her—hungry, awed, a touch envious. Even the women stole glances, admiring her poise, her confidence. If she was to wear a ring, it had to be one that reflected that. Something elegant. Something commanding. Something that would silence doubt the moment anyone’s eyes landed on her hand.

But she was also… simple. She never flaunted, never begged for attention. She was classically refined yet understated. A diamond too large would look gaudy on her. Something sleek, refined, but still captivating—that was the type of ring she would wear well.

Nate exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why am I even thinking this through?

It wasn’t a real marriage. She wasn’t really his wife. He wasn’t truly her husband. Their entire union was nothing but a fabricated cover story. A carefully woven lie. So what does it matter what kind of ring I get her?

And yet, the thought clung stubbornly to him, refusing to loosen its hold.

Eventually, his brow furrowed and his thoughts grew heavier, duller. Planning, analyzing, resisting. The pull of exhaustion won out at last, his body relaxing against the mattress. His eyes slipped shut, though the faintest image of Alexia’s smile still lingered behind them.

Finally, Nate drifted into sleep.