The warm, heavy scent of garlic, rosemary, and roasted chicken filled the dining room, a sharp contrast to the cold rain sliding down the windows outside.
It was a comfortable room, grounded by simple oak furniture and ceramic plates that felt vastly different from the sterile, museum-like marble of the Sterling properties.
Yet, the mood at the table shifted the instant I tried to take my seat.
Before I could even sit down, Helen frowned.
Her eyes, sharp and practiced from decades of reading people in courtroom battles, locked onto my face.
“Your face looks different,” she said, her voice dropping into a quiet, assessing tone.
I paused halfway into my chair.
Thanks to the physical baseline upgrade I’d integrated an hour ago, my posture was effortlessly straight, and the slight, awkward hesitation of a grieving teenager had completely vanished.
My features felt more defined, tightened by the sudden biological optimization.
“Different how?” I asked, keeping my voice casual as I finally sat down.
“Sharper,” Helen said flatly.
Across the table, Gwen looked up from her plate, her bright blue eyes examining me with a mix of genuine curiosity and instinctive suspicion.
“Thank you.”
Helen looked at her.
“For what?”
“For proving I’m not crazy.”
I sighed.
“Here we go.”
Gwen leaned forward.
“I literally told him this upstairs.”
“You noticed too?” Helen asked.
“Immediately.”
I reached for a glass of water.
“Maybe it’s the lighting,” I said, repeating the same excuse I’d given her upstairs.
Gwen just stared at me.
For three long, quiet seconds, she didn’t blink.
She was looking for a tell, a micro-expression, anything that gave away what was actually going on.
Then she pointed her fork at me.
“Such a bad liar.”
I forced a slight, offended scoff, crossing my arms.
“I wasn’t lying.”
“You absolutely were,” she said, a small, triumphant smirk appearing on her face.
Helen folded her arms, her maternal gaze matching her legal one.
“Just don’t tell me you’re taking drugs.”
Too many questions.
That was the real problem.
Ever since I’d moved into this house, Gwen had developed an alarming habit of noticing things she wasn’t supposed to notice.
Normally, that would just be a quirky trait for a smart teenager.
Unfortunately, I happened to possess a reality-breaking evolution system, billions of dollars in hidden capital, and secrets that would get me locked in an asylum if I explained them honestly.
I needed a distraction to keep her from poking holes in my cover.
Right then, a memory surfaced.
It was a record of Helen’s deeply ingrained opinion of the original Chris Sterling—or rather, the reputation his mother had carefully cultivated over the years.
Helen had spent years listening to stories about Chris making catastrophically stupid, impulsive decisions the second a pretty girl entered the room.
The reputation was already there.
Why not use it?
I leaned forward a fraction, letting a smooth, entirely shameless smile touch my lips as I looked directly at Gwen.
“You know, if you keep looking at me like that, people might start getting the wrong idea.”
The room went dead silent.
Gwen blinked, her fork freezing mid-air as a sudden flush of color hit her cheeks.
Beside her, Helen closed her eyes.
Slowly.
Painfully.
It was the look of someone experiencing a deeply familiar, exhausting headache.
“There it is,” Helen muttered under her breath.
“What?” I asked, looking entirely innocent.
“Exactly what your mother warned me about,” she said, opening her eyes to glare at me with profound irritation.
I pointed a finger at her.
“See? This is profiling.”
“No.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
“No.”
Gwen looked between us, her mind quickly resetting as she caught on to the sudden shift in the room’s dynamic.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Wait.”
I kept my smile steady.
“Did you just say that because you didn’t want to answer?” she demanded.
Damn, I thought.
The kid really is quick.
“That’s a very serious accusation,” I said aloud, taking a slow bite of my food.
“It wasn’t a denial,” Gwen shot back.
“It wasn’t a confession either.”
Helen, clearly deciding she didn’t have the stomach to handle a teenage flirting match over dinner, pointed her fork firmly at my plate.
“Eat.”
I raised my hands in compliance.
“Understood.”
And just like that, the topic died.
It was perfect.
One mildly questionable comment, one swift intervention from Helen, and the conversation was completely derailed.
It was a useful pattern to note for the future.
I grabbed a plate and helped myself to the roast chicken.
The quiet lasted for about thirty seconds before Helen spoke again, her tone shifting back into standard business.
“Tomorrow, my assistant will contact Columbia.”
I nodded smoothly. The source of this chapter is g.com.
“Okay.”
Gwen blinked, looking genuinely shocked.
“That’s it?”
“What?”
“You’re leaving Columbia,” Gwen said, shaking her head.
“That’s a huge deal.”
I shrugged.
“I don’t think it’ll help me much right now.”
Helen raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair.
“And your alternative?”
“Books,” I said simply.
The room went quiet again.
“Books?” Gwen repeated, flatly.
“Books. Lectures. Tutors,” I said.
Helen studied me for a moment, looking for the catch.
“Elaborate, Chris.”
“If I need information from someone who spent thirty years studying a subject, I’d rather pay for an hour of their private time than spend four years sitting in a lecture hall catching up,” I explained.
“It’s just faster.”
Helen looked slightly impressed despite herself, recognizing the raw transactional logic.
Gwen, however, still looked incredibly suspicious.
“What subjects?” Gwen asked.
I listed them off without hesitation, mapping out exactly what I needed for the system’s growth trees.
“Material science.”
Helen gave a slow nod.
“Environmental impact studies,” I continued.
Another small nod from Helen.
“Geology.”
“Cybersecurity,” I added, causing Helen to pause.
“Interesting,” she murmured.
“Economics.”
“Reasonable.”
“Artificial Intelligence.”
“African history,” I said, which immediately made both of them look up from their food.
“African history?” Gwen repeated, her brow furrowing.
“A lot of Sterling Global’s mining operations are centered there,” I replied, keeping my tone perfectly practical.
“Oh,” Gwen muttered, accepting the logic.
“I guess that makes sense.”
“African politics too,” I added, nodding.
“I’ll probably end up spending some time there eventually.”
Helen made a mental note of it.
“What else?”
I hesitated for a brief second, then figured there was no harm in throwing in the wild cards while she was taking requests.
“Ancient civilizations.”
Gwen’s eyes flashed instantly.
There it was again—that sharp, unyielding radar.
She leaned over the table, entirely unconvinced.
“Ancient civilizations?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Just a hobby.”
“No,” Gwen said flatly.
I let out a soft sigh.
“What do you mean, no?”
“That’s not the real answer.”
“It can be.”
“It isn’t,” she insisted.
I took a bite of food, trying to ignore her stare, but she wouldn’t let it go.
“Why ancient civilizations, Chris? It doesn’t fit with cybersecurity and economics.”
I shrugged.
“History.”
“No.”
“Knowledge.”
“No.”
“Education.”
“No.”
I put my fork down, looked straight into her eyes, and leaned forward slightly.
“You know, your eyes are so beautiful.”
The room froze again.
Helen slowly set her fork down against her plate.
Gwen just stared at me, her face completely locking up as a furious blush rushed right back up her neck.
I calmly picked my fork back up and took another bite of chicken.
The timing was genuinely perfect.
“Chris,” Helen said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, low warning.
“There she is,” I muttered softly.
Helen pointed a finger at me.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That.”
“An observation.”
“It was not,” Helen said sharply.
“It absolutely was.”
Gwen finally found her voice, her eyes narrowing in deep frustration.
“You changed the subject.”
“No.”
“I disagree.”
“You complimented me just to avoid answering!” Gwen argued, throwing her hands up slightly.
I offered a slight shrug.
“That sounds like a you problem.”
Helen pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, exhausted breath.
I could practically see the headache forming behind her eyes.
It was hilarious, but more importantly, it proved the protocol worked flawlessly.
Every time Gwen started digging into things I couldn’t afford to let her uncover, a quick line of shameless flirting would completely smash the conversation, forcing Helen to jump in and kill the exchange.
Ancient civilizations?
Forgotten.
Suspicious behavior?
Redirected.
Across the table, Gwen was still glaring at me, her arms tightly crossed.
I didn’t feel bad about exploiting the family dynamic; one overly curious teenager under the same roof was dangerous enough for my operational security.
“So,” Helen said, clearing her throat and pulling the focus back to her notes.
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“Cybersecurity and economics first,” Helen commanded.
I nodded.
“Agreed.”
“The rest can wait for a bit.”
“That’s completely fine.”
“I’ll have the books and tutors arranged by tomorrow morning,” she said, closing her folder.
“Thanks.”
Helen stared at me for a few silent seconds.
She looked like she was actively questioning the reality of her new legal guardianship.
Finally, she let out another heavy sigh.
“Chris.”
“Yes?”
“Stop making comments like that.”
“What comments?”
“The comments.”
“That’s not very specific, Helen.”
“The comments directed entirely at my daughter,” she said, her voice flat and firm.
I pointed at myself, looking utterly surprised.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“An interesting accusation,” I murmured.
Gwen nearly choked on her drink, coughing into her hand.
“Accusation?!”
“I haven’t been convicted of anything,” I pointed out.
Helen closed her eyes again, and for a second, I thought she might actually look around the room for a bottle of wine.
When she opened them, she just looked deeply, profoundly tired.
“Your mother warned me,” she said quietly.
“There it is again,” I smiled.
“Chris.”
“No, seriously. I feel like I’m being judged for crimes I haven’t even committed.”
“Yet,” Gwen chimed in under her breath.
I pointed a finger at her immediately.
“See? Look, she’s contributing to it now.”
“That wasn’t helping, Gwen,” Helen muttered, rubbing her temples.
She looked at me and slowly shook her head.
“I understand your parents’ drinking problem now.”
“That’s a little unfair.”
“It really isn’t,” Helen countered dryly.
Gwen leaned forward again, her elbows on the table.
“You know, Chris, you think you’re a really good liar.”
I sighed softly.
“And?”
“You aren’t.”
“That’s just hurtful, Gwen.”
“It’s true,” she insisted.
I looked around the table, a faint smile on my face.
They were a problem, certainly, but a surprisingly warm, human sort of problem.
It was dangerous because it felt entirely comfortable, completely distinct from the ruthless, transactional corporate war waiting for me outside these walls.
Helen pointed her fork at me one last time, giving me her absolute final warning.
“Just stay away from my daughter.”
I considered the request seriously for a brief second, then gave a very respectful nod.
“Okay.”
Helen visibly relaxed, letting her shoulders drop a bit as she reached for her napkin.
It was a massive strategic error on her part.
“To be fair,” I added smoothly, letting a sharp, mischievous glint hit my eyes, “I’ve always preferred older women anyway.”
The entire room crashed into an absolute, suffocating silence.
Gwen froze, her eyes widening to the size of saucers as she stared at me in pure, unadulterated shock.
Helen slowly, meticulously lowered her fork to her plate, her movements incredibly deliberate.
She stared at me like she was trying to calculate if she could legally evict an orphan on a Monday night.
“Chris,” Helen said, her voice eerily calm.
“Yes?”
“I deeply regret taking this guardianship.”
Gwen instantly buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with a sudden burst of muffled laughter.
I just smiled and went back to my dinner.
**Author’s Note** Thanks for reading!
As always, comments, reviews, and ratings are greatly appreciated.