Street lamps blinked on as Iren and the kids made their way back from the plaza, still riding the high of Lucas’s skateboarding triumph. Adam kept pace beside them, with Thomas hanging back.
Irene reached out and mussed Lucas’s hair, her smile giving away her pride. His eyes still gleamed with excitement, though his usual chatter had faded into thoughtful quiet.
Lily skipped ahead, spinning in circles while Alex walked with hands jammed in his pockets, feigning nonchalance about his brother’s sudden spotlight moment.
Irene slowed down and turned Lucas to face her, dropping to his eye level. Her expression shifted from casual to serious.
“Listen up,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “If you decide to join skateboard training, it’s not going to be all fun and games. Coaches will push you hard. You’ll try moves that scare you. You’ll fall. A lot.”
Lucas met her gaze steadily.
“Those shiny trophies everyone sees? They come with bruises nobody talks about,” Irene continued. “Real success costs something. You get that, right?”
“I’ll think it through, Mom,” he promised, sounding far older than five. “I know things aren’t always what they seem on the surface.*
Irene gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, then stood and took his hand. Nothing more needed saying–the choice was his to make.
Thomas watched them with growing fascination. After years working for Silver City’s elite, he’d seen countless parents micromanage their kids‘ lives, turning every hobby into a resume–builder.
“Do you always parent this way?” Thomas asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Irene turned with a slight smile. “What way?”
“Letting them choose for themselves,” he explained. “Most families I know have their kids drowning in tutoring and fancy lessons before they can tie their shoes. It’s all about appearances, not what the child wants.”
Irene tilted her head. “Kids have their own minds and preferences. They’re people, not projects.” She shrugged like it was obvious. “Why wouldn’t I respect that?”
The moon climbed higher as the city settled into evening rhythm. Shadows stretched across the pavement, the night air cooling around them.
Thomas shook his head with a laugh. “Most kids this age are still playing in sandboxes, barely out of preschool.”
The triplets stopped in their tracks, turning with identical unimpressed expressions.
“Thomas uncle,” they said in perfect sync, “we stopped playing with mud when we were three.”
Alex stepped forward. “I’d already finished computer programming by then.”
“I was doing market risk calculations,” Lucas added.
Lily completed the trio with a hair flip. “And I was playing piano.”
Thomas gaped at the three little faces radiating absolute confidence. These kids are something else.
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Irene’s laugh broke the standoff. These moments–when their brilliance shone without prompting–filled her with a fierce joy,
Adam watched quietly, noting how Irene’s face softened around her children. Their parenting conversation had struck a chord. Traditional methods would fail these exceptional kids, but Irene had found the perfect balance.
As they approached Emerald Garden, the evening breeze picked up, carrying the scent of nearby gardens.
“Time to call it a night,” Irene said, checking her watch. “School tomorrow.”
The kids groaned but didn’t argue. They said goodbye to Adam, with Lily demanding a high–five and Lucas thanking him once more for coming to dinner.
“Night,” Irene said simply, her eyes meeting Adam’s briefly–a moment of connection neither acknowledged before she turned away.
Adam watched them disappear into their house before heading toward his own door. The moment he crossed the threshold, his expression hardened, all traces of relaxation vanishing. Business mode activated.
“Any word on the attack?” he asked Thomas, voice dropping an octave.
Thomas straightened instinctively. “Still investigating, but signs point to Stephenson. Violet’s had ties with them for years.”
He frowned, scrolling through his tablet. “What doesn’t add up is the public bounty. Why leave a trail?”
Adam’s fingers drummed against his armrest. “Keep digging.”
“Stephenson’s taken massive losses lately,” Thomas added. “And Walter’s unstable at best. With our competing interests, they’re the obvious suspects.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Confirm it quickly. If it was them, I’ll wipe them off the map.”
The ice in Adam’s voice made Thomas stand straighter. In business, mercy was optional–and Adam rarely offered second chances to
enemies.
“We’ll have answers soon,” Thomas promised.
Meanwhile, Irene stepped into her quiet house, immediately sensing something off. Joseph’s favorite chair sat empty. James, usually ready to greet them, was nowhere around.
“Grandpa?” she called, dropping her keys. “James?”
The triplets scattered to their rooms while Irene checked the house. Her grandfather never left without telling her, especially this
late.
She grabbed her phone and called him. He answered after several rings, the background noise immediately telling her he wasn’t at his usual chess club or friend’s house.
“Where are you?” she asked, concern edging her voice.
“Just out for a bit,” Joseph replied, sounding strained. A muffled hospital announcement echoed behind him seemingly walking quickly away from the noise.
“Are
you at the hospital?” Irene straightened, doctor instincts kicking in. “What happened?”
he moved,
“No, no–I mean, nothing to worry about,” he stammered, clearly flustered. A door shut in the background, muffling the sounds.
Everything’s under control.”
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Chapter 199
“Under control? Grandpa, what’s going on?”
“Listen, I’ll explain later.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Someone’s coming. I need to go.”
Grandpa-
“On my way back. Don’t wait up.”
The call ended abruptly. Irene stared at her phone, unease transforming into genuine worry. Something was definitely wrong.
Not long after, the front door opened. Joseph walked in with James following close behind. Irene rushed to meet them, concern written across her face.
“Grandpa, did something happen?” she asked, instinct telling her something was off.
Joseph waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing at all.”
Irene had her doubts, but facing her grandfather’s steady gaze, she chose to accept his answer for now.
She noticed the exhaustion lining his face, the slight droop in his shoulders. “You should rest. I’ll make you some chamomile tea,” she said, her voice softening. “And maybe skip your outings for a few days, okay?”
Joseph recognized the care behind her words and smiled. “Alright, alright. Whatever you say.”
After Irene left for the kitchen, Joseph turned to James, his expression instantly grave.
“James,” Joseph said quietly, “not a word about today to Irene. If she finds out, all hell breaks loose.”
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