Family Secret

Chapter 9

The morning of the interview came with a sharp bite in the air, steam curling from the vents that lined the cobblestone streets outside their home. The city’s gears and pistons groaned faintly in the distance, the ever-present hum of machinery underscoring the day like a ticking clock.

Inside, the house was full of movement.

Nate stood before the mirror in the front hall, fingers smoothing over his waistcoat as though perfection lay in the fabric itself. His tweed vest sat snug against his chest, a crisp white shirt beneath it, and his black trousers pressed sharp. He adjusted his tie with precision, tugging it once, then twice, until it sat straight. The faint stubble along his jaw gave him a rugged edge that softened the otherwise polished look, his expression stern but steady.

“Everyone hurry along, or we’ll be late,” he called over his shoulder in his clipped British accent, slipping into his jacket.

Ryan padded past, carrying a glass of water. His green eyes flicked to his father’s reflection with a smirk. “Late? We’re going to be thirty minutes early.”

Nate buttoned his jacket with finality. “Always plan ahead. Anything can happen.”

Ryan rolled his eyes but said nothing, though he thought it was just like Nate to turn punctuality into a matter of life and death.

And then she appeared.

Alexia descended the stairs with hesitant steps, one hand brushing along the railing. Nate’s gaze flicked up—and for just a beat, his composure faltered. He nearly missed the step he was taking, caught off guard.

She was dressed in an elaborate gown that seemed plucked from a different age. Black fabric swept down in cascading layers of ruffles, each edge kissed with brass accents that caught the morning light. The bodice fit close to her form, cinched at the waist with leather straps and bronze clasps, while her white blouse peeked beneath the high collar, a brooch glinting at her throat. Her gloves were delicate, precise, yet practical. And her hair—usually loose or tousled—was pulled back into a single neat braid that fell over her shoulder.

She looked every bit the part of a dutiful wife.

And yet her fingers fidgeted against the gloves, tugging at the seams as though the dress were a cage. Her steps weren’t light, but wary, as though she wore armor instead of silk.

Nate blinked, forcing his eyes away. Bloody hell… she actually looks like… His thought trailed into dangerous territory, and he quickly shifted, adjusting his cufflinks with unnecessary focus.

Ryan, of course, heard it. He smirked faintly—his father’s mind was rarely this distracted, and certainly not by Alexia. But as his own gaze drifted to her, curiosity tugged at him, and before he could stop himself, he brushed against her thoughts.

Her mind was sharp, deliberate. And beneath the polished exterior of her dress, her thoughts made him stumble.

This dress interferes with my access to my blades. If I’m attacked, I’ll have to rely on hand-to-hand. The fabric will slow me down. If it comes to it, I may have to sacrifice one of the twins. But which one…?

Ryan froze mid-step, the cup of water slipping from his hand and shattering on the floorboards.

The sound cracked through the house like a gunshot.

“Ryan!” Nate groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “For heaven’s sake, boy, mind yourself.”

But Ryan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His chest felt tight, his throat dry. He could still hear her words echoing in his head. Sacrifice one of the twins. Which one?

His gaze darted to Alexia, who was still fussing with the hem of her gown, unaware of the storm she had unleashed in his mind.

Who was she really?

What did she mean attacked?

Why would she even consider sacrificing him or Kyan?

And most terrifying of all—was she… an assassin?

Ryan’s heart pounded as he stared at the woman who, until this moment, had been sliding seamlessly into the role of their mother. A role he now wasn’t so sure was safe.

Ryan sat stiffly against the leather seat of the carriage, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Every bump in the cobblestone road rattled through his body, but it was nothing compared to the storm in his mind. His green eyes stayed fixed on Alexia, who sat across from him, hands folded neatly over her gown as though she’d been born to play the part of “perfect wife.”

But Ryan knew better.

If she’s an assassin… why here? Why us? His thoughts spiraled. What does she want with me and Kyan? Was she hired to bring us back to The Order?

The very thought made his chest tighten, his breath hitching as if invisible hands were closing around his throat. His heart thudded painfully, panic gnawing at the edges of his mind. The Order—their cold hands, their rules, the endless walls of shadows and commands—they would never let him go free. Not him. Not Kyan.

I’d rather die than go back.

His breathing quickened, shallow and uneven.

But then his mind slowed, like water settling after being stirred. A thought, sharp and clarifying, cut through the panic.

No. Assassins aren’t part of The Order.

That was true. He’d read enough minds, listened enough in silence to know. The Order didn’t deal in blunt instruments like assassins. They were puppeteers, preferring spies—those who could twist minds, slip into places unseen, collect secrets rather than shed blood.

If Alexia truly were an assassin, then she wasn’t working for them.

But then… who? And why here?

Ryan’s gaze flicked toward Nate. His father—no, his “father”—sat tall and composed, his sharp profile unreadable as the cityscape rolled past the carriage windows. Ryan pressed deeper into his thoughts, but Nate was a fortress. His mind was rigid, disciplined, structured like stone walls fortified with steel. He rarely slipped, but Ryan caught fragments. Always fragments.

Mission.

Cover.

Patience.

Ryan swallowed hard. Nate still hadn’t revealed what his real mission was. And if he was indeed a spy—and Ryan was all but certain of it—then why had he taken them in? Was it all part of some bigger plan?

Kyan, blissfully ignorant, leaned against Ryan’s shoulder with a soft sigh, playing with a toy gear piece she’d snagged before they left the house. But Ryan couldn’t relax. His eyes darted between Nate and Alexia like a pendulum.

Nate’s secrets.

Alexia’s dangerous slip.

Neither of them seemed aware of the other. And that was somehow worse.

The air in the carriage felt tight, as though every breath was being measured, counted, weighed.

Then Nate’s voice broke the silence. Calm. Professional. Too smooth.

“Now, one last reminder before we arrive,” Nate said, his British lilt steady as ever. His gaze swept over the children, then Alexia. “We are a happy, ordinary family. Ryan and Kyan, you’ve been my children all your lives. Your mother”—he paused, careful, practiced—“died giving birth to you. Alexia and I married a year and a half ago. We’ve just moved to the city for my work.”

Ryan’s throat went dry. He knew Nate was hiding something deeper.

Nate leaned back in his seat, folding one leg over the other. “As for today… smile. Be polite. Respectful. Do not draw unnecessary attention. We’re just a happy family who wants their children enrolled in Star Academy. Nothing more.”

His sharp gaze flicked first to Ryan, then Kyan. “Understood?”

Kyan nodded quickly. Ryan forced himself to do the same, though his stomach churned.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alexia’s lips curve into a faint smile. Too faint. Too precise. He couldn’t shake the image of her thoughts earlier—calculating, tactical, assessing whether to sacrifice one of them if things went wrong.

Ryan clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms.

One parent’s an assassin. The other might be a spy. And they’re both pretending not to be.

The carriage rattled on toward the gleaming gates of Star Academy, the silence between its passengers heavier than steel.

The carriage slowed, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against stone softening until it came to a halt. Ryan felt his chest tighten as he peered out the small window.

The gates loomed ahead—iron wrought into elegant spirals, gilded edges catching the sunlight like fire. Beyond them stretched a campus so massive it seemed to swallow the horizon. Towers of ivory stone rose high above manicured courtyards, glass windows gleaming like polished gems. The sprawling grounds were framed by hedges trimmed to precise perfection, every leaf in its proper place. Walkways glistened as though they had been polished that very morning, no crack or blemish marring their surface.

Children in crisp uniforms—navy blazers with golden trim, white shirts, skirts or trousers pressed into razor-sharp folds—hurried across the grounds in groups. Laughter mingled with the distant echo of bells. Teachers stood nearby, clean and perfectly presentable, their postures rigid but welcoming, every movement rehearsed. The whole place smelled faintly of roses and oiled stone, as if luxury itself had a scent.

It was… extravagant. Expensive. Unreachable.

The carriage door opened with a creak, and Nate stepped out first, straightening the cuffs of his coat. He turned, offering a hand to Alexia. She took it with effortless grace, stepping down as though she were royalty.

Her brows arched as she took in the sweeping sight, lips curving into a slow, impressed smirk. A sharp whistle left her lips. “Well,” she murmured, voice carrying just enough for Nate and the twins to hear, “you weren’t kidding when you said it was a fancy school.”

Nate didn’t respond, but his jaw twitched, the faintest sign of irritation—or maybe pride.

Ryan and Kyan climbed out after them. The sunlight struck Ryan’s face, but it wasn’t the brightness that stole his breath. It was the sight. He and Kyan froze, eyes wide, necks craning to take it all in.

Kyan’s small hand gripped Ryan’s sleeve as she whispered in awe, “It’s like a castle.”

Ryan swallowed, unable to disagree.

But Nate’s voice cut through their wonder, sharp and low. “Control yourselves. Act like you belong.” His eyes narrowed on the two of them. “Or have you never been to a school before?”

Ryan frowned, the words twisting in his stomach. He hated the way Nate said it—like they were beneath all this, like their awe betrayed them.

“No,” Ryan answered flatly, “we had a teacher come to the orphanage sometimes. But mostly they focused on the older kids.”

Nate’s jaw tightened, a muscle flickering in his cheek. His thoughts surfaced for the briefest second—that explains his cleverness, learning from those older children.

Ryan nearly laughed. He smirked instead, eyes gleaming as he let the truth roll smugly through his mind. No, I didn’t pay attention to anything. I just cheated off the other kids by reading their minds.

The thought made him feel a little lighter, even if only for a second. And I’ll do the same here… just have to figure out a way to make sure Kyan copies my answers without making it obvious.

Kyan’s hand tightened in his sleeve, her eyes flicking toward him as if she’d caught the edges of his thought. She couldn’t read minds, but she always knew when he was planning something.

The four of them walked deeper into the courtyard, joining the throngs of families gathering near the grand staircase that led into the Academy proper. The atmosphere buzzed with voices, nervous laughter, and the occasional barked order from a teacher directing traffic.

Ryan glanced around at the other families—silks, jewelry, the faint scent of perfumes that cost more than a year’s worth of food. Everyone looked so polished, so powerful, like they had been bred for this place. He and Kyan… they didn’t belong. Not even close.

But he forced himself to stand straighter, shoulders squared, smirk tugging at his lips.

If he had to cheat his way in, so be it.