Family Secret

Chapter 29

The night air was warm, the kind that wrapped softly around them as they walked side by side down the lantern-lit streets. Steam hissed gently from pipes that lined the cobblestones, and the faint hum of gears in the lampposts gave the city a subtle mechanical lullaby.

For the first time in years, Nate found himself walking without a plan—no route to memorize, no threats to calculate, no mission to rehearse. Just him and Alexia, their footsteps falling in quiet rhythm.

He glanced at her, her hair catching the glow of the streetlamps as it swayed lightly with each step. Something tugged at him—curiosity, but also… concern. He hesitated before speaking. “Earlier… you mentioned your little brother. What happened to him?”

Alexia froze mid-step. Her shoulders stiffened, and she looked straight ahead. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft crunch of their shoes against the cobblestones. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady but low. “He died.”

Nate’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words feeling insufficient.

Alexia kept walking, not meeting his eyes. “It happened so suddenly. One day he was fine, then… suddenly he wasn’t. The caretaker at the orphanage took him to the hospital. They told me he didn’t make it.” Her voice wavered, but she steadied it quickly. “I never saw him again.”

Nate didn’t press. He only nodded, silent, letting her words linger in the space between them.

But then Alexia’s lips curved into a faint smile, her gaze softening as a memory flickered across her face. “He was always so… happy. And curious. Always getting into some kind of trouble. I always had to be the one to get him out of it.” She let out a quiet laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. Looking down at her hands, she whispered, “He used to tell me all the time—life’s too short to take everything so seriously.”

Nate looked at her, his chest tightening at the way her voice broke just slightly. “He sounded like a smart young man.”

Alexia turned her head, meeting Nate’s eyes with a tender smile. “He was. And he was very caring. Sweet, too.”

The words hung between them as they reached the front steps of their home. The porch light flickered faintly, the brass lantern above the door glowing against the dark wood.

They stopped at the door, neither moving to open it right away. Instead, they just stood there, facing each other.

The silence wasn’t awkward this time. It was charged, alive.

Nate’s breath slowed as he met her gaze, those warm brown eyes pulling him in deeper than he wanted to admit. Alexia’s smile faded as she found herself staring back, her pulse quickening.

Without realizing it, they both leaned in—slowly, cautiously, as if testing the air between them. Their faces were inches apart now, close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath.

Nate’s heart hammered in his chest, the disciplined, composed man undone by something so simple. Alexia’s lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering down to his mouth before snapping back up to meet his.

They hovered there, suspended in a moment that felt like it could shatter at the slightest touch. Their lips were just inches apart. They could almost taste each other.

And then—

Just as Nate was about to close the distance, the door swung open with a bang—unleashing absolute chaos.

Both he and Alexia jolted apart as though a spell had been broken. They turned toward the door just in time to see the babysitter—once so stiff and proper—now standing in the doorway covered head to toe in flour, sugar, raw egg, and streaks of melted chocolate. Her tightly pinned bun had collapsed into a frizzy halo, and her glasses were smeared with something suspiciously sticky.

Nate raised one eyebrow, unimpressed. Beside him, Alexia pressed her lips together, fighting the bubbling laughter threatening to spill out.

The babysitter’s expression was anything but amused. Her voice shook with outrage as she growled, “Never again. I’m sorry, but your children are… heathens.”

Without waiting for a response, she stormed past Nate and Alexia, leaving a trail of sugar dust and flour footprints on the porch. The slam of the gate echoed like a final declaration of defeat.

Nate turned slowly, already dreading what he would see inside. And there it was.

Ryan and Kyan stood smack in the middle of the kitchen, looking as innocent as two angels. Unfortunately, their “innocence” was surrounded by what looked like the aftermath of a cake explosion. Flour coated every surface like fresh snow. Splashes of batter dripped from the cabinets. The mixing bowl sat on the floor, tipped on its side, a sticky puddle oozing out.

Ryan lifted his chin and said with practiced calm, “We just wanted to bake a cake.”

Kyan nodded eagerly, chocolate smudged across her cheek like war paint.

Nate’s eyes swept the c*****e. His jaw tightened. He slowly crossed his arms, shifting his weight in that deliberate way that said someone’s in trouble. Then he leveled them both with the look—the one that could silence a room full of soldiers. The you’re grounded look.

Ryan squirmed but tried to stand tall. Kyan’s lip wobbled, but she stayed quiet, clutching her flour-covered hands together.

Alexia, still standing at Nate’s side, bit her lip again, desperately trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

The kitchen looked like a bakery had been hit by a bomb, the babysitter had fled, and now the twins were staring up at Nate as if their very lives depended on convincing him this was all a good idea.

By the time the twins were scrubbed clean, tucked beneath their blankets, and finally drifting into sleep, Nate and Alexia had changed into more comfortable clothing. Gone were the formal suits and elegant dress. Nate wore a simple grey t-shirt and dark lounge trousers, his hair slightly mussed from running his hands through it in frustration. Alexia had traded her wine-red gown for soft cotton shorts and an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder, her hair pulled into a loose braid.

The kitchen, however, still looked like the scene of a crime.

Nate stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, surveying the destruction with a grim expression. “Bloody hell… how is it even possible? They’re tiny humans, Alexia. Two small children. And yet—” He waved a hand at the splattered cupboards, the flour-dusted counters, the chocolate handprints on the wall. “This looks like the aftermath of a bakery riot.”

Alexia covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, her shoulders shaking. She picked up a rag and passed another to Nate. “Well, what were you expecting when you adopted twins? A calm, quiet household?”

“Yes,” Nate replied flatly, scrubbing at a streak of batter on the tile. “That. Exactly that.”

Alexia arched a brow at him, amused.

Nate sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Certainly not… this level of chaos.” He bent to clean under the table, groaning when he discovered a sticky patch that seemed to resist every attempt. “Honestly, I’ve treated psychopaths who’ve left less of a mess.”

Alexia giggled outright at that, kneeling down beside him to wipe the chair legs. “I hate to break it to you, Nate, but this is just the beginning.”

Nate muttered something under his breath about bloody disaster machines, but when Alexia laughed again, the edge of his irritation softened.

Finally, after nearly an hour of scrubbing, sweeping, and mopping, Alexia straightened up with a triumphant grin. “There. All done.” She wiped her hands on her sweater, flour streaking across the fabric.

Nate leaned on the counter, exhaling deeply, shoulders relaxing at last. His gaze lingered on her as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face, her cheeks flushed from the effort of cleaning. For a brief moment, the world felt still. The chaos had quieted. It was just the two of them in the warm kitchen, surrounded by the faint scent of sugar and soap.

Their eyes met. Neither spoke. Neither needed to.

It was a fleeting moment—something unspoken yet undeniable—before they both remembered themselves. Nate cleared his throat and pushed away from the counter. Alexia gave him a small, gentle smile that left his chest tight.

Without another word, they turned and retreated down the hall toward their separate rooms, the silence between them charged with something neither dared name.