Ethan looked him over, then nodded to Augustin. "Lock him in the secure suite. Room 905. I want guards on the door and surveillance on every inch of that hallway. If he sneezes, I want to know it."
Augustin walked up behind Wryn. "Move."
Wryn obeyed with trembling legs.
Adrian approached Ethan as they watched them disappear into the elevator.
"That symbol... it confirms it," he whispered. "Doctor Naehr is making a move. But this is too clumsy for him. He’s precise. Surgical. Soone else is pushing Wryn around."
"Which ans we’re still two steps behind," Ethan said darkly.
Adrian glanced around at the scattered chaos in the hallway. "We need to decode that drive. And figure out who this ’Benefactor’ is."
Leclair had faced death squads. Board etings with psychotic shareholders. Even Ethan’s terrifying temper at 7:00 AM without coffee.
But nothing—not war, not power struggles, not even baby spit—could have prepared him for what it ant to babysit twins. Not just any twins. Seraphina and Aurelius, the genetic culmination of Adrian’s angelic softness and Ethan’s tyrannical dominion.
They were both beautiful, like hand-crafted sculptures in baby form. Black curls, deep dark eyes, and coos so sweet that strangers cried. But beneath that cherubic exterior?
Two evil gremlins in matching onesies.
"How hard could it be?" Isaac had shrugged hours ago, tossing his jacket aside like he was about to spend a cozy evening playing peek-a-boo and sipping tea.
Now, it was 2:47 AM. The twins had staged a rebellion.
"I think she pooped again," Isaac said in a hollow voice, holding Seraphina at arm’s length like she was a live grenade.
"No, that was your pride exploding," Leclair snapped, struggling to strap Aurelius back into his panda-printed diaper. The boy had kicked him in the chin. Twice.
"Wait, which one is this again?" Isaac asked.
"Still Seraphina," Leclair said slowly, "Unless you think the baby grew blonde pigtails in the last five minutes."
"I’m hallucinating," Isaac muttered, staring down at her suspiciously. "She looks like Lucas."
"She looks like Adrian," Leclair corrected, then paused. "No, actually, she has Ethan’s ’I own the world’ glare."
Seraphina let out a sound that could only be described as royal disapproval, then spit up on Isaac’s shirt.
He stared down at the ss. "This is my last clean shirt."
Leclair, looking just as miserable, handed him a bib. "Welco to unclehood. I’m in a sweater from 2008 and praying it doesn’t sll like baby arson."
Suddenly, Aurelius shrieked—a wail that seed to summon ghosts from beyond. He flailed his tiny fists in the air like a furious Roman emperor.
"What does he want now?" Isaac asked, now wearing Seraphina like a living scarf over his shoulder.
"He wants your soul," Leclair deadpanned. "Or the bottle."
Isaac grabbed the ward milk from the side table and held it toward the furious baby.
Aurelius slapped it away.
"Cool. He’s already in his rebellious phase," Isaac muttered.
Leclair, trying to keep it together, picked up the bottle and tried again with a different approach: humming Beethoven and rocking the baby side to side.
Seraphina began to laugh.
The laugh turned to a giggle.
The giggle turned into... a wild, unprompted scream.
"She’s jealous," Leclair groaned. "We praised one twin too long. We upset the balance. It’s over."
"Okay, we need strategy," Isaac said, bouncing Seraphina while pacing like a man on the edge. "Divide and conquer?"
"You take that side of the room, I take this side?" Leclair offered.
"Yes. Just like that ti you took a bullet for Ethan at that gala."
"This is worse," Leclair whispered. "This is psychological warfare."
They switched off. Leclair took Seraphina, who had instantly cald in his arms, and Isaac attempted again with Aurelius.
There was a mont—a single golden second—of quiet.
Then Aurelius farted so violently, it sounded like a tire exploding.
"I don’t even know where the poop ends and the diaper begins anymore," Isaac muttered, staring into the abyss.
"Don’t look too hard. The abyss poops back," Leclair said grimly.
Both n, eyes bloodshot, souls dangling by a thread, started changing diapers again. Wet wipes flew. Diapers hit walls. There was talcum powder in the air like snow.
Then Seraphina sneezed and it all reset.
By 3:12 AM, Isaac was lying on the floor, his arm draped dramatically over his eyes.
"Is it normal," he asked the ceiling, "to hear lullabies in reverse?"
"They’re not lullabies. That’s Aurelius’ battle cry," Leclair muttered, walking in circles holding Seraphina while bouncing in a pattern he dubbed ’the Kangaroo Waddle.’
"What if they never sleep?" Isaac asked, lifting his head in horror.
"They don’t. They nap... strategically."
"Who invented twins?" Isaac demanded, pointing at the sky like a prosecutor. "Who looked at one baby and said ’You know what would be better? TWO?’"
Leclair looked down at him. "Ethan, probably. He thinks in overkill."
Isaac groaned, finally managing to coax Aurelius into closing his eyes. "Oh thank God. Finally. Peace."
Seraphina imdiately began to cry.
Isaac scread into a pillow.
By 4:20 AM, the twins were finally, miraculously, asleep in their crib. Leclair and Isaac collapsed onto the couch in the nursery like two survivors of a shipwreck.
"We did it," Isaac whispered.
"No, we survived it," Leclair corrected, adjusting his now milk-stained sweater.
"Do we get awards? dals? Therapy?"
"You get nothing," Leclair said, "but the knowledge that your brother and brother-in-law deal with this daily and still manage to look put together."
"Adrian doesn’t look put together," Isaac grumbled.
"True. He looks ’softly stressed’ in high-end cashre," Leclair smirked.
They both stared into the silence. Then—
A tiny hiccup from the crib.
Both n leapt to their feet, whisper-sprinting over to check.
Aurelius had just turned in his sleep. Nothing more.
Leclair let out a long sigh.
Isaac rubbed his face. "I love them. I do. But next ti Ethan asks for a babysitting favor, I’m faking my death."
Leclair grunted in agreent. "Sa. Let’s call Augustin. He can bring fake passports."
From the crib, Seraphina snorted in her sleep.
Isaac blinked. "Did she just laugh at us in her dreams?"
"Yes," Leclair said solemnly. "They know we’re weak."
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