Family Secret

Chapter 5

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as Alexia ran a rag across the polished desk, her reflection briefly flashing in the glossy surface. She moved with practiced ease, her motions smooth, unhurried, perfectly ordinary. To anyone watching, she was just another cleaning girl earning her pay.

But her eyes weren’t idle. Every sweep of the desk, every turn of a wastebasket, every flick of the duster gave her a vantage point. She scanned for anything—papers left out, messages half-hidden, a careless slip revealing some trace of the Order’s secrets.

Nothing.

Just reports on quarterly numbers, memos about staffing, and a half-eaten candy bar shoved between folders.

Alexia let out a quiet sigh. She had hoped for more tonight.

Still, she didn’t linger. She made her way down the hall, pushing her cleaning cart, her footsteps soft against the linoleum. By the time she entered the break room, the chatter of voices hit her like a wave.

A cluster of women in matching uniforms sat crowded around a small table, all eyes locked on Mary’s hand.

“Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous!” one of them squealed.

The engagement ring sparkled under the harsh lights, and the girls gushed as though it were the crown jewels. Mary beamed, wiggling her fingers proudly, basking in the admiration.

Alexia forced herself not to roll her eyes. She’d seen enough of this charade to know how it played out: the ring, the vows, the endless routine of a life chained to one man, one house, one dull existence.

The thought made her stomach turn. Tied down forever? No, thank you.

Mary caught sight of her then, bright-eyed and smug. “Alexia! When are you finally going to settle down?”

Alexia slipped on a smile as easily as slipping on a glove. “Still haven’t found the right man yet,” she replied smoothly, shrugging like it was no big deal.

The reaction was immediate. A chorus of sympathetic gasps and frowns. One of the girls leaned closer. “Aren’t you twenty-four now?”

Alexia nodded once, still smiling.

“You may want to hurry up,” another girl chimed in. “If you don’t, the Secret Service might get… suspicious.”

The group murmured in agreement.

“My cousin was taken,” one whispered, lowering her voice as if sharing a ghost story. “She was twenty-five, unmarried. They said she was relocated, but… I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

The room seemed to grow a degree colder at that, the fear hanging heavy in the air.

Alexia’s smile didn’t falter, though inside she scoffed. Let them try. If the Secret Service ever came for her, she’d paint the walls with their blood before she went quietly.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I’ll be fine,” she assured them with a light laugh, brushing her blonde hair back as though the topic were silly.

The girls smiled weakly, but their unease lingered.

Alexia moved to the counter, pouring herself a cup of stale coffee, the bitter smell filling her nose. She sipped it slowly, pretending to join their chatter while her mind wandered elsewhere—calculating, planning, watching.

The mask of normalcy stayed firmly in place. No one here could ever guess what she really was.

The night air was cool, brushing against Alexia’s cheeks as she made her way home. Her boots clicked softly against the cracked sidewalk, the neon lights of the city flickering in the distance. She carried herself with the calm poise of an ordinary young woman returning from a long shift. But her senses were sharpened, tuned to the subtle shifts in sound and shadow that most people ignored.

When she reached her building, the scent of stale cigarettes and damp plaster greeted her. She climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor, her keys already in hand. As she slid one into the lock, the fine hairs at the back of her neck rose.

Someone was inside.

Alexia’s expression didn’t change. She opened the door casually, stepping into the dim little apartment. The moment it clicked shut behind her, her hand dipped beneath her skirt. In a flash, she drew a slender throwing knife from the holster strapped high against her thigh and sent it sailing across the room.

It embedded into the wall with a solid thunk—just inches from a man’s face.

The man didn’t so much as blink. Instead, he smiled. “Hello to you too, Alexia.”

Her lips curved into a smirk. “Hello, Gale. What do I owe the pleasure?”

She strode across the room, her movements unhurried, and yanked the blade free from the plaster. With a fluid motion, she slid it back into its holster, the faint scrape of steel against leather oddly comforting.

Gale rose from the armchair he had claimed, his dark coat shifting with the motion. He strolled casually around her cramped apartment, his eyes flicking over the meager furniture, the small stack of dishes in the sink, the single plant that somehow hadn’t died yet.

“I got word,” he said, his tone measured. “In a few weeks, there will be an opening for a secretary position within the Order. They’re looking to hire from inside—likely one of the maids.”

He stopped and looked at her, his eyes gleaming with meaning. “We need it to be you. Do whatever it takes to get that position. Once you’re in, you’ll have access to everything.”

Alexia let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Right. And what makes you think I can snatch that job? Everyone and their sister will be applying the second it becomes public. Some of those women have been there for years, loyal little pets of the Order. I’m just… background noise.”

Gale only shrugged, unfazed. “You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

With that, he pulled a packet from his coat and tossed it onto her small kitchen table. The stapled papers slid across the wood, landing neatly at her elbow.

“There’s your advantage,” he said. “Everything they’ll be looking for in the secretary position. Qualifications, behavioral tests, even the little personality quirks they favor.”

Alexia arched a brow but picked it up, flipping through the contents. Page after page of precise details—interview structures, notes on the Order’s preferences, and highlighted traits that gave away the psychological games behind the hiring process.

By the time she looked up, Gale was gone. No sound of the door opening, no footsteps retreating. Just silence.

Alexia exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders drop. She glanced at the empty room, then down at the packet in her hands.

“Figures,” she muttered, setting it aside.

Her fingers lingered on the cover page, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.

If they wanted her to be the Order’s secretary… then she’d play the role to perfection.

But she knew one thing for certain—once she was inside, nothing would stay secret for long.

She sighed, rubbing the tension from her brow, and reached for the knife still warm against her thigh.

Another long night lay ahead.

Alexia dropped onto her worn couch, the packet clutched in her hands. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs beneath her, then flipped open the first few pages.

Her eyes skimmed the bolded words. Polite. Respectful. Organized. Eager to please. Family-oriented.

She snorted. “Bullshit.”

Page after page laid out the kind of woman the Order wanted: a picture-perfect good girl. Someone docile, someone pliant. Someone engaged or married—bonus points if she already had children or was planning to have them. Someone clean, soft-spoken, cheerful, the type who baked pies on Sundays and folded laundry with a smile.

Alexia threw her head back against the cushions, groaning. “Oh, come on.”

Every requirement was the opposite of her. She was sharp-edged where they wanted smooth. Cunning where they wanted sweet. Independent where they demanded submission.

Still, as she sat up again and flipped through the rest, her lips curved into a slow, amused grin.

She loved a challenge.

The truth was, she could fake every single trait on that list if she wanted to. She could play the sweet, polite little doll with wide eyes and a delicate voice. She could nod and smile and follow orders without question. She could pretend to dream of husbands and babies.

The trick would be keeping her disgust buried deep enough that no one saw it leaking through.

Her finger traced a line in the packet: Applicants with strong family ties or marital commitments will be considered stable and trustworthy.

Alexia let out a short, sharp laugh. “Stable. Trustworthy. Yeah, that’s me.”

She tossed the packet onto the coffee table, leaning back again. The only problem—and it was a big one—was finding a man. Not just any man, but one willing to get engaged, or better yet married, on the first damn date.

Her smirk widened at the absurdity of it. She had no patience for romance, no desire to be tied down, and definitely no interest in playing house. The very idea made her skin crawl.

Still… if that was the only obstacle between her and slipping into the Order’s inner circle, then she’d find a way.

“I’ll just have to recruit one,” she muttered, the thought rolling around in her mind like a loaded dice. “Poor bastard won’t even see it coming.”

She reached for the packet again, flipping back to the section on interview tactics.

Her eyes gleamed. This wasn’t just a job application. This was war—and she always played to win.