Family Secret

Chapter 3

The hum of the car filled the silence. Ryan and Kyan sat in the back seat of Nate’s sleek black vehicle, the cracked leather of the orphanage’s benches already a distant memory. Kyan’s legs swung freely, humming to herself as she clutched the worn piece of paper she’d drawn on earlier. Ryan, however, sat stiff, his dark eyes locked on the back of Nate’s head.

Nate cleared his throat, his tone clipped, all business.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, his accent rolling smooth but sharp, like polished steel. “You’ve been my children your whole lives. Your mother died giving birth to you—twins.” His hands tightened around the wheel, knuckles paling. “That story is common enough. Believable. You will refer to me as ‘Father’ in public. Understood?”

Ryan furrowed his brow. His voice was quiet but carried the weight of defiance.

“Why?”

Nate’s jaw flexed, irritation flashing across his otherwise controlled face.

“Because,” he said slowly, “I’m sending you both to Star Academy. They’re… particular about who they allow in. Appearances matter. Families matter. A man alone with two children raises questions. A family with a story? That fits neatly.”

Ryan leaned forward slightly, suspicion sharpening his features.

“Why?”

The second question landed harder, and Nate’s grip on the steering wheel turned rigid. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Because,” he said, his tone clipped, “I need—” he stopped, correcting himself quickly, “—I want you to be friends with a certain child there. It’s important you become close to them.”

Ryan opened his mouth, his sharp tongue ready to push further, but Kyan cut him off with her soft, sing-song voice.

“Is it for the grater good?” she asked, stumbling adorably over the word, her wide eyes blinking innocently.

Nate furrowed his brow at her choice of words, glanced at her through the rearview mirror, then gave a dismissive shrug.

“…Yea. Something like that.”

Kyan giggled and bounced a little in her seat.

“Ok, Daddy.”

The word made Nate flinch. He cleared his throat sharply.

“Not Daddy. Father. Always Father.”

“Ok, Father Daddy,” she chirped, grinning.

Nate exhaled through his nose, long-suffering. “Bloody hell…” he muttered under his breath.

Ryan’s sharp gaze never wavered. He stared at Nate, eyes narrowing, and then let his mind slip into that dangerous current. The world muted around him as he pressed past the man’s calm surface, peeling away the thoughts that Nate guarded so carefully.

The first flood hit hard:

This mission is going to be harder than I thought… If I can at least get one of them into the Academy and close to Miguel, it will be enough. From there, I’ll have access to Monroe’s estate. I can get in, plant surveillance, gather what’s needed. Then I can go back to my life. Back to normal.

Ryan’s stomach tightened. Mission?

The thoughts tumbled deeper, faster:

I just need a woman willing to pose as my wife of a year and a half. Someone convincing enough to sell the story. The girl is simple, pliable—she’ll play along without question. The boy… he’s going to be trouble. Always questioning. Always suspicious.

Ryan felt his breath catch. His head pounded, the strain of digging too far pressing behind his eyes. Blood trickled from his nose, warm against his upper lip. He released the thread of thought, gasping quietly, and wiped the crimson away with the sleeve of his shirt before either of them noticed.

He leaned back, gaze fixed on the man at the wheel, mind racing.

“Mission.”

The word burned in his head.

What was Nate really? His appearance was polished, his words careful, but beneath them… a spy? A soldier? Something else entirely? And what did he mean by finding a woman to be his wife? Who would even agree to something like that?

Ryan’s chest tightened as an unsettling thought crept in. Was Nate a good man trying to fight for something bigger? Or was he a bad man using them as pawns in some dangerous game?

Beside him, Kyan giggled softly, still humming as she scribbled with a broken crayon on her old picture. She was oblivious, lost in her simple joy, trusting without hesitation. Ryan clenched his fists, jaw set.

He would figure out who Nate really was. He would uncover his true motives. And if this man thought he could use them like disposable pieces on a board, Ryan swore he’d find a way to flip the game.

The road stretched ahead, long and uncertain.

The ride had been long, the steady hum of the engine broken only by the occasional hiss of steam from the pipes running along the road. Outside, the world shifted from rolling countryside into the sprawling buzz of the city that neighbored the capital. Towers of brass and steel loomed high against the smoky sky, their clockwork gears and glowing lampposts casting strange golden light onto the bustling streets. Mechanical carriages rumbled by on cobblestone avenues, airships drifted lazily above the rooftops, and everywhere there was the constant thrum of industry.

It reminded Ryan of big city's from the old books he’d once seen, but sharper, busier—alive with a chaotic, mechanical heartbeat. This was the edge of power, so close to the capital where The Order’s headquarters stood like a shadow over everything.

The car turned sharply, weaving through narrow rows of houses until finally pulling to a stop.

“Here we are,” Nate said flatly.

Ryan peered out the window. They had stopped in front of a row of tightly packed townhouses, all carved from stone, standing shoulder to shoulder as if pressed too close together. The one Nate led them toward was three levels—two main floors and an attic tucked beneath the sloping roof. Its dark windows reflected the glow of the streetlamps, and a thin iron fence framed a very small backyard tucked behind it.

Kyan’s eyes lit up. “It looks like a castle!” she whispered, pressing her nose to the glass.

Nate’s lips twitched, but he said nothing. He led them up the steps and unlocked the heavy door, ushering them inside.

The interior was bright, airy, and almost too clean. The sitting room stretched forward in muted elegance. Pale walls, tall windows draped in deep green curtains, and polished wooden floors gleamed beneath a chandelier that sparkled softly in the light. A carved fireplace sat against the wall, unused but pristine, with two velvet chairs angled neatly beside it. A cream colored couch facing the fireplace. The air smelled faintly of lemon polish and something sharp, metallic.

The room flowed into a spotless kitchen and dining area. White countertops gleamed under the light, cabinets perfectly aligned, and steel appliances gleamed as though no one had ever cooked there. Not a crumb, not a stain.

Ryan shifted uneasily. The place was too tidy, too staged. It didn’t feel lived in.

Nate didn’t pause to give a tour. He led them upstairs, boots quiet against the polished wood steps. They passed a bathroom with shining fixtures before stopping at the second door on the left. Ryan pushed it open, Kyan right behind him.

The room was plain, clearly prepared for children but lacking any warmth. A dresser, a bare desk, and a single bed pressed against the wall. The sheets were crisp and white, untouched.

Ryan’s brow furrowed, but before he could say anything, Nate’s low voice cut in behind them, startling him.

“There’s another bed and a dresser coming tomorrow.”

Ryan jumped slightly but quickly nodded. “Alright.”

The man’s presence lingered like a shadow in the doorway before he finally turned and walked back down the hall.

Ryan and Kyan stepped further inside. She spun once in the center of the room, her tattered dress twirling.

“It’s so big!” she said, running her hand across the cool surface of the desk. “And clean!”

Ryan just studied the walls, the sterile neatness. It didn’t feel like their room. It felt temporary.

After unpacking what little they had, the twins made their way downstairs. Nate sat on one of the velvet chairs, a thick packet in his hands. He flipped through it, pages rustling, his attention never leaving the papers as he spoke.

“Rules,” he said simply. “No yelling. No fighting. No messes. Clean up after yourselves. No food in the living room. No feet on the furniture. Keep your space neat and tidy.” He turned another page, his tone sharpening. “And no matter what—you are never, under any circumstances, to enter my bedroom.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes slightly at that, but said nothing.

Kyan giggled. “Ok, Daddy!”

Nate exhaled heavily, setting the packet down for the first time. “Father. Not Daddy.”

She just grinned. “Ok Father Daddy.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He stood abruptly, moving to the door. “I’ll be right back. I have to… take care of something.”

Before Ryan could even open his mouth, the door closed behind him, leaving the twins alone in the polished silence.

Kyan’s eyes sparkled. “He’s nice,” she said brightly, humming as she wandered toward the kitchen.

Ryan tightened his jaw, a sharp breath slipping through his nose. He shook his head slowly, staring at the closed door. He didn’t trust him. Not one bit.