Bianca’s eyes slid briefly toward the staff. “Then do not allow weakness around you. Rich people notice everything, especially weakness.”
Elijah lowered his gaze and returned to opening the side gate, but Jordan noticed something. Elijah’s hand was not steady.
A light rain began in the afternoon when the school car returned. The twins jumped out under the covered entrance, but Elijah hurried from the gate anyway, carrying an umbrella toward them.
“Careful,” he said. “The ground is slippery.”
Before he reached them, his steps slowed.
Jallen saw it first. “Elijah.”
Elijah stopped for one second, pressing a hand lightly against the gatepost as if the world had tilted. Then he straightened almost immediately.
“I’m fine,” he said.
But he did not look fine.
That evening, after homework, Jordan wandered downstairs to return a book. As he passed the open security post near the gate, his eyes landed on Elijah’s wrist. There was an old bracelet there, simple, faded, almost hidden beneath his sleeve. But carved into the inside were two letters: JJ.
Just then, Mama Agnes stepped into the passage and saw it too. Her face changed at once. She looked at Elijah, and when she spoke, her voice was low and heavy.
“One day, truth stops waiting.”
Elijah said nothing.
Much later that night, when the mansion had gone quiet and the lights were low, the gate area fell still. A weak breeze moved through the trees. From the upstairs landing, Jordan happened to glance down toward the front entrance again. He saw Elijah leaning against the wall near his post, looking faint. Then, in a voice so soft it almost disappeared into the night, Elijah whispered:
“I promised I would stay near my boys.”
Jordan froze. His heart began to pound. Had Elijah just called them his boys?
The next afternoon, the words Jordan had heard the night before still would not leave him.
I promised I would stay near my boys.
He had wanted to ask Elijah what he meant. He had wanted to tell Jallen everything the moment they reached school. But the day had passed in a blur of lessons, whispers, and growing unease. And by the time the twins returned home, something else had already gone terribly wrong.
As soon as the car rolled through the Hart Mansion gate, Jallen frowned. “Elijah isn’t standing up.”
Jordan looked quickly toward the security post. Elijah was there, but he was not the same as usual. The quiet gateman, who always stood alert by the entrance, was now slumped in his chair, his head resting awkwardly against the wall. His face looked pale. His eyes were closed. One hand hung weakly by his side.
The boys hurried out of the car.
“Elijah,” Jordan called.
No answer.
Jallen stepped closer. “Elijah, can you hear us?”
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