Five days before the open house, and applications have flooded in—not just to attend, but to help. Teachers, doctors, researchers, all wanting to be part of what we're building.
"We need to vet them carefully," Marcus King says, having returned from hunting the last of Carmichael's supporters. "Any could be Pure Architecture plants."
"Or genuine allies," Jessica counters. "We can't suspect everyone."
"We can't trust everyone either," Julia adds.
I'm reviewing applications when one makes me freeze. The name at the top: Ethan Rumero.
My ex-fiancé. The one whose betrayal sent me to that club six years ago, to Vlad, to everything that followed.
"What is it?" Vlad asks, noticing my stillness.
I hand him the application. His jaw tightens as he reads.
"Absolutely not."
"He's a qualified teacher. Psychology degree, experience with special needs children—"
"He hurt you."
"Six years ago. People change."
"Not that much."
But I'm reading his cover letter, and something makes me pause. His younger brother, apparently, is evolved. Started glowing three weeks ago. His family doesn't know what to do.
"It could be a lie," Vlad points out.
"Or it could be truth. And if it is, turning him away because of our history makes us hypocrites. We say we accept everyone."
"We accept evolved children. Not men who—"
"Who what? Cheated on me? That's not a crime, Vlad. It's just human weakness."
He stares at me. "You're defending him?"
"I'm defending our principles. If we start turning people away based on personal history, where does it stop?"
Before he can answer, Devon enters. "There's something you need to see."
He leads us to the communication room, where news feeds from around the world play. Evolved children in Beijing have started a light show visible from space. In São Paulo, they're healing people—actually healing them with their combined energy. In London, an evolved child saved twenty people from a burning building by creating a light bridge for them to escape.
"They're not waiting for acceptance," Devon explains. "They're earning it."
"This is coordinated?"
"Through the network. We decided—all of us—that hiding wasn't working. So we're helping, publicly, undeniably."
"The government will—"
"The government will have to acknowledge that we're assets, not threats."
It's brilliant. And dangerous. And exactly what I'd expect from my son.
That evening, I find Ethan's application again. Vlad's at a security meeting with Marcus King, planning protection for the open house. I have a moment to decide.
I call the number listed.
"Hello?" His voice, unchanged after six years, sends an unexpected jolt through me. Not desire—just memory.
"Ethan. It's Jasmine."
Silence. Then: "Jasmine. I... I didn't think you'd call."
"Is it true? About your brother?"
"Every word. He's ten, Jasmine. He's terrified. My parents want to hide him, pretend it's not happening. I remembered seeing you on the news, what you're building. I know I have no right to ask—"
"Come tomorrow. Bring your brother. We'll evaluate you both—him as a potential student, you as a potential teacher."
"Jasmine—"
"This isn't forgiveness, Ethan. This is practicality. We need teachers. Your brother needs help. That's all."
"Thank you."
I hang up before he can say more.
When Vlad returns, I tell him immediately. No secrets, not anymore.
He's furious, of course. "You had no right—"
"I had every right. I'm the co-founder of this school."
"You're my wife!"
"Which doesn't give you ownership of my decisions."
We're shouting now, something we rarely do. Hope floats anxiously between us, and Devon appears in the doorway.
"Stop," he says quietly, and somehow that single word carries more weight than our shouting. "You're scaring Hope."
We both look at our daughter, whose glow is flickering with distress.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I tell her, pulling her into my arms.
Vlad's anger drains away. "I just... the thought of him here, near you—"
"He's nothing to me now. You're everything. But this school has to be bigger than our personal feelings."
"I know. I hate that I know, but I know."
The next day, Ethan arrives with his brother Tommy. The boy is small for ten, clearly terrified, his glow unstable and flickering.
"Hello, Jasmine." Ethan looks older, worn. The years haven't been kind.
"This is a professional meeting," I state clearly. "Tommy, would you like to meet some other children like you?"
The boy nods shyly. Devon approaches, his own glow stable and welcoming.
"Hi, Tommy. I'm Devon. Want to see something cool?"
As Devon leads Tommy away, I turn to Ethan. "Your interview is with our head of education—Jessica Chen. I won't be involved in the hiring decision."
"Jasmine, can we—"
"No. We can't. I'm married. I have children. I have a life that started the night yours ended. If you're here for anything other than helping your brother and potentially teaching, leave now."
"I'm here for Tommy. Only Tommy."
"Good."
Vlad appears then, and I watch Ethan recognize him, see the moment he understands who my husband is.
"Mr. Rumero," Vlad says coolly. "I understand you're interested in a teaching position."
"I... yes."
"Then you should know that any inappropriate behavior toward any staff member—particularly my wife—will result in immediate termination and criminal charges. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
"Good. Jessica is waiting in the east conference room."
As Ethan leaves, Vlad pulls me close. "I still don't like it."
"You don't have to. You just have to trust me."
"I do. It's him I don't trust."
Tommy is accepted immediately—his evolution is similar to Marcus's emotional projection, but gentler, more empathic than aggressive. Ethan's interview goes well enough that Jessica recommends hiring him on a trial basis.
"We need the help," she argues. "And his experience with special needs children is genuine."
So Ethan Rumero becomes part of Blackwood Academy, a irony I couldn't have imagined six years ago.