POV Juliet
I was having the best morning of my life, thank you very much.
Cake rained from the sky! And I found a new magic word that made all the giants freeze.
"Boow-sht!" I announced to the world. "Boow-sht! Boooo-sh*t!"
He bent down, voice soft but deadly-serious in that Ijah way.
"We don't say those words, mi sol."
Uh-huh.
Sure.
But I do what I want.
Then his eyes went straight to Riven, who was trying to pick cake out of his hair.
"Riven." Ijah's voice was flat, a low rumble of displeasure. "The baby's developing an interesting choice of vocabulary."
Riven froze, a chunk of frosting on his finger. "What? No she's not."
"'Boow-sh*t, huh?'" he repeated.
"Amazing. She even says it with the same attitude."
"Eli, come on," Riven said, his voice dropping into a defensive grumble.
He gestured at me with the frosting-covered hand. "You think I'm teaching her that? I'm careful."
Ijah just stared at him, a long, cold look that did all the talking for him. It was the same look he gave liars caught with their hands in his money.
Riven cracked under the silence. "Alright, fine. Maybe it slipped out once. I stubbed my toe on the goddamn weight rack. It was one time."
"Make it zero times," Ijah said, his voice final. He turned his attention to the room, the issue with Riven already considered handled and dismissed. "Listen up."
"Juliet is going to that new secured park today. To interact with her peers."
Silence.
Then, from the other end of the table, a low mutter.
"Since when?"
It was Julian. He hadn't even looked up from his phone, but the challenge hung in the air.
Tia Rosa, hearing the quiet, appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. She didn't say a word. She just looked at Ijah.
He looked back at her. A whole conversation happened in their eyes, full of things I didn't understand. Ijah gave a single, sharp nod. Tia Rosa's mouth tightened, but she nodded back.
I didn't care.
My only goal was:
GETTING OUT OF THIS STUPID HIGH CHAIR.
My leg was numb.
My butt was dying.
Freedom was calling.
While I fussed, Riven shoved a shiny tabby in my face. Colours and a singing goat appeared. Fine. I would allow this one distraction.
Ijah's solution for the mess was swift. "You'll," he said, his gaze sweeping over Julian, Timothy, and Riven. "You made this. You clean it. You're on kitchen duty until it's spotless. Every pot, every pan."
Riven looked like he'd rather be shot. But he just shrugged, grabbing his protein shake from the counter.
"You heard the boss," he said to his younger brothers. "Get cleaning."
And without another word, he walked straight out the back door, disappearing into the garden.
My victory came next! Ijah scooped me up and carried me toward the front door.
Just as we reached it, a scuffle broke out in the hallway.
"Let go!" Enzo yelled, trying to sprint past.
Timothy had him by the arm, pulling him back. "You're going nowhere until you help clean this mess!"
"Leo and Riven will help!" Enzo argued, struggling.
"You know they won't!" Timothy whisper-yelled, his voice tight with frustration. "They'll just bully us into doing it all! We're doing this together!"
Enzo fought harder, twisting his arm free. "No way! I'm not peeling potatoes all day!"
He made a break for it, diving out the front door and toward the idling SUV. He spun around, flipping Timothy off with both hands.
"ENZO."
Ijah's voice cut through the morning air. He stood on the steps, holding me, his expression unamused. He hadn't even raised his voice.
Enzo froze, his hands dropping to his sides.
"Go back inside," Ijah said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Help your brother."
"But Elijah, please!" Enzo begged, his voice cracking. "I'll do extra chores tomorrow! I'll clean the garages! I just... I can't do potatoes. Please let me come with Jules!"
Ijah looked down at him for a long moment. He sighed, a short, weary sound. "Get in the car," he finally said. "Don't touch anything."
Ijah carried me to the big, black armored SUV. Enzo scrambled into the far seat, wisely staying silent.
Ijah settled in with me, and the door thudded shut.
Two other identical SUVs fell in behind us as we pulled away, our usual motorcade.
We drove to a place with a stupid amount of green, surrounded by a giant fence. A bodyguard spoke a code into an intercom, and the gate swung open.
The SUV door opened. Ijah moved to put me down.
No.
My arms locked around his neck. My legs drew up, hovering in the air. He was not putting me down.
He tried to loosen my grip. "Jules. It's just grass."
I squeezed tighter, my face buried in his suit.
He gave up and carried me over to a woman with a wide-brimmed sun hat.
"Lia," he said, his voice a low, private rumble. "Not a single hair on her head. You see anything, you call me. Not Viktor. Me."
"I understand, Mr. Fernandez."
He was late to some meeting. Like I cared.
Finally, he sat me on a swing. His big hands pushed me, gentle, then higher. I laughed, feeling the swoop in my belly. Up, down, up, down!
But when I turned my head to smile at him... he was gone.
A hulking bodyguard stood there instead.
My smile died. My chest got tight. Tears burned.
I opened my mouth and let out a scream that could wake up aliens on Mars.
Just as the bodyguard started panicking, a girl with grass stains on her knees zoomed past. "Come back, pwetty butterfly!" she yelled, chasing a flicker of orange.
I was so surprised, I forgot I was crying. Who was this?
A flustered woman rushed over. "Charlotte! Sit down! Look at your dress! Your mother will be furious!"
The girl—Charlotte—just grinned, not caring at all, and plopped down right in the dirt next to my swing.
Then a girl my age with dark pretty black hair appeared.
She was like a little ghost. Olivia moved without a sound from behind the screaming lady, and she had something hidden behind her back.
She didn't look at me or Charlie. Her dark, serious eyes were locked on the lady who had yelled at my new, sunshiney friend.
She didn't run. She didn't yell.
She just launched.
It was a fast, quiet pounce. And what she launched wasn't a toy. It was a big, wet, gloppy handful of MUD.
SPLAT.
It hit the fussy lady right on her clean, boring dress. A perfect, messy, brown explosion.
The world froze.
The lady looked down. Her face got all red and tight. "OLIVIA!" she shrieked. "You wicked girl!"
But the girl—Olivia—was already done. She stood there, her little hands now empty and dirty. She didn't smile. She didn't look sorry.
She just pointed one tiny, dirty finger right at the lady.
Her voice was a low, clear whisper, like a little ghost telling a secret.
"Mean."