Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy

Chapter 168 - 169 | Who Are You?

I carried her to the bedroom. Cheon was already curled under the covers, her blue hair spread across the pillow like a river of ice. She stirred when we climbed in, reaching for us without opening her eyes.

Three people in a bed meant for two. Tangled limbs and shared warmth and the drain humming between us like a lullaby.

I fell asleep faster than I had in years.

The morning came too quickly.

My alarm screamed at seven. Cheon was already up, showered, and dressed in something that screamed professional intimidation. Mera groaned into her pillow and refused to acknowledge the existence of sunlight.

"Coffee’s ready," Cheon said when I stumbled into the kitchen. "Your suit’s pressed. Marco will be downstairs in forty minutes."

"When did you become my mother?"

"When you proved incapable of managing your own schedule. Now drink your coffee and shower. You smell like sex."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours, for being insatiable."

"That’s definitely not a complaint."

"It’s an observation."

I drank my coffee. I showered. I put on the suit Cheon had selected, a dark charcoal number that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent. When I looked in the mirror, I saw someone who belonged in a boardroom.

The effect was slightly undermined by the bite marks still visible above my collar.

"Concealer," Cheon said, appearing behind me. "Left cabinet."

"You think of everything."

"One of us has to."

By the time Marco pulled the Mercedes to the curb outside Angelo Corp headquarters, I looked like a respectable heir instead of a man who’d spent the weekend being devoured by multiple women.

The building loomed above us. Sixty stories of glass and steel, the Angelo Corp logo blazing in gold across the top. I’d been here a hundred times in the original Rome’s memories, but it still felt foreign. Like visiting a museum dedicated to someone else’s life.

"Ready?" Cheon asked.

"No."

"Good. Overconfidence would make you sloppy."

She squeezed my hand once, then let go. We walked through the main entrance together, Mera trailing behind with her tail hidden under a long coat and a hat covering her horns. The security guards nodded us through without comment.

My father’s office occupied the entire top floor. The elevator ride took forty seconds. Forty seconds of silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery and the increasingly rapid beat of my heart.

The doors opened.

Vito Angelo sat behind a desk that could have doubled as a small aircraft carrier. He was sixty-three years old, silver-haired, impeccably dressed, and possessed of the kind of cold beauty that made you understand why beautiful women kept agreeing to marry him despite his reputation.

He looked up when we entered. His eyes swept over me, then Cheon, then Mera.

"You brought guests," he said. Not a greeting. An observation.

"My partners. They’re part of the conversation."

"I don’t recall inviting them."

"You invited me. They’re a package deal."

Something flickered in his expression. Surprise, maybe. Or interest. With Vito, it was hard to tell.

"Sit," he said.

We sat. Three chairs arranged in front of his desk like we were students called to the principal’s office. Cheon crossed her legs and pulled out her tablet. Mera sprawled in her chair with deliberate casualness.

I waited.

"You’ve been busy," Vito said eventually. "The convenience store incident. Your combat performance. The rumors about your abilities."

"News travels fast."

"It does when you’re broadcasting it to every hero agency in the country." He leaned back in his chair. "Tell me about the portals."

"Adaptive type response."

"Don’t insult my intelligence."

"I’m not insulting anything. I manifested a new ability branch under combat stress. It happens."

"Not to Passive Nulls."

"Clearly it does, since it happened to me."

His eyes narrowed. "Your mother was a Passive Null. Your grandfather was a Passive Null. Three generations of confirmed null-type expression in your direct lineage. And you expect me to believe you suddenly developed spatial manipulation capabilities?"

"I don’t expect you to believe anything. I’m telling you what happened."

"You’re lying."

"Prove it."

The silence stretched between us. Cheon typed something on her tablet. Mera examined her nails with theatrical boredom.

"I’ve had you tested," Vito said. "Twice. Once when you were six and again when you were twelve. Both times the results were identical. Passive Null with no active Essentia expression."

"Tests can be wrong."

"Not these tests."

"Then maybe the tests measured the wrong thing."

"What does that mean?"

I leaned forward. "It means that whatever I am, it doesn’t fit into your neat little categories. I can’t explain it in terms you’ll accept because I don’t fully understand it myself. What I can tell you is that I have abilities now. Real ones. Useful ones. The kind that got me noticed by Vanguard."

That landed. I saw the flicker of reaction before he suppressed it.

"Vanguard contacted you?"

"Marcus Vane. Head of recruitment. Meeting scheduled for this afternoon."

"You can’t accept."

"Excuse me?"

"Angelo Corp has contracts with three major agencies. Signing with a competitor would create conflicts of interest that—"

"I’m not signing with anyone yet. I’m exploring my options."

"Your options are what I tell you they are."

"No." I stood up. "They’re not."

Vito’s expression hardened. "Sit down."

"I’m done sitting. I’m done taking orders. I’m done being the disappointment you wrote off years ago." I placed my hands flat on his desk and met his eyes. "Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to graduate in the top five of my class. I’m going to accept whichever agency offer gives me the best opportunity to build something real. And I’m going to do it with or without your support."

"You think you can threaten me?"

"I’m not threatening anyone. I’m stating facts. The footage of my match is everywhere. Every agency in the country knows my name now. I don’t need Angelo Corp’s connections anymore. I don’t need your money. I don’t need your approval."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Giving you one chance to be part of what I’m building instead of standing in the way of it."

The room went very quiet.

Vito stared at me like he’d never seen me before. Like I was a stranger wearing his son’s face. Which, in a way, I was.

"Who are you?" he asked finally. Not angry. Genuinely curious.