“Marketable?” The word tastes like acid. “He’s not a brand, Maliek.”
“He could be,” he says softly. “If you weren’t standing in the way.”
My hands curl into fists. I take a slow breath through my nose.
He keeps talking, oblivious—or maybe enjoying this. “You’ve made quite a splash, Mr. Kuraken. The reformed bad boy teaching toddlers. The galaxy loves a redemption arc. But redemption sells best when it’scomplete. And I have to wonder… how complete is yours?”
He leans in, voice low. “Rumor has it, you’ve been taking midnight strolls through the old Redscale tunnels. That doesn’t exactly fit the family-friendly narrative, does it?”
My pulse spikes. “Careful.”
He chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to the press. Yet. I just want clarity. See, Kairo and I… we’ve known each other a long time. I’ve been there since before Ben was born. Beforeyouwere in the picture again.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. And between us—” he lowers his voice even further “—I’ve always wondered if maybe the kid takes after me more than you think.”
For a heartbeat, everything in me goes still.
No sound. No breath.
Just that one sentence echoing.
Then I smile.
It’s small. Controlled.
The kind of smile that makes people forget to breathe.
“You might want to get a paternity test,” I say softly, “before you embarrass yourself.”
His face twitches. Just slightly.
I step closer until the distance between us is measured in heartbeats.
“I’m not a violent man anymore,” I murmur. “But I’ve got instincts. They tend to flare when people start talking about my son.”
“Your—”
“My student,” I correct smoothly. “Don’t twist my words.”
For a moment, he can’t tell if I’m joking. Neither can I.
The tension breaks when a door opens down the hall. A teacher pokes her head out, smiling brightly. “Mr. Kuraken? The morning circle’s ready!”
I glance at Maliek. “Excuse me.”
He doesn’t move.
So I walk past him, close enough that my shoulder brushes his.
“Pleasure chatting,” I say.
He mutters something under his breath. I don’t catch it. I don’t care.
Inside the classroom, the kids are already sitting cross-legged in a lopsided circle. Ben spots me and waves a crayon-stained hand.
“Mr. K! We’re drawing heroes again!”
