My mom died giving birth to me. They couldn't save her.

My dad? He dumped me outside a prison and ran. Didn't even look back.

It was five degrees. I was basically frozen. Barely breathing.

Later, a guard said the whole max block lost it that night.

One hundred eight inmates—death row, life sentences—went crazy. Slamming doors. Smashing windows. Yelling they wanted to keep me.

In the end, they filed a letter.

Not a breakout plan.

A custody request.

Somehow... it got approved.

From that day on, I had 108 dads.

But growing up, I found out the truth.

They weren't criminals.

On paper, they were dead—killed in the line of duty.

In reality, they were still out there, serving.

Eighteen years later, I got into one of the top high schools—with the highest score in the State of Ashford.

On the fifth day, I beat the rich girl, Vivian Cobbley, by one point on a mock exam.

Next thing I knew, my name was all over the bulletin board:

[Riley Ray, daughter of murderers!]

Vivian cornered me in the bathroom and shoved my head into a toilet.

"Your dads are killers. That filth's in you too."

She beat me so hard I dragged her down when we went over the second-floor railing.

When I woke up, the Dean of Students was right in my face, finger in my face.

"No surprise you're violent. It's in your blood. Call your criminal dads. Now."

I shook.

"Mr. Todd... you sure you want me to call them?"

The second I finished, a sharp slap cracked.

Before I could react, my face was already on fire.

"Who do you think you're threatening? Go on—call them if you've got the guts!"

Vivian's father—Graham Cobbley—stood by the hospital bed, hand still raised, eyes cold with rage.

Mr. Todd rushed over, all fawning smiles. "Please, Mr. Cobbley. We'll handle this. The school's taking it very seriously. Riley won't get away with it."

He spun on me. "Riley Ray! Look what you did to Vivian! Call your parents. Now. Do you even know her father's the richest man in Northbridge?"

I lowered my head, nails digging into my palm.

I thought about what my dads taught me, then looked up.

"So what if he's rich? She cornered me in the bathroom, shoved my head in a toilet, and ripped my clothes—"

I didn't even get to finish.

Vivian clung to her mom on the bed, crying.

"Mom! She's lying! I just asked about homework, and she said I didn't deserve to study—that even a dog's smarter than me. Then she pushed me down the stairs... She's a murderer's daughter. Of course she's messed up. She's jealous of my family!"

Mr. Todd slapped me. "Call them! Get your parents here. Now!"

Right then, people in the hallway started staring—curious, barely hiding their excitement.

I looked down at my phone. Then it hit me. I looked up.

"Mr. Todd..." My voice came out rough. "Didn't you say my parents are death row inmates? They're in prison. How am I supposed to call them? And if I do... you're not worried something might happen?"

The room went dead quiet.

Vivian froze, then sneered.

"How you reach them is your problem. Afraid? Please. If they try anything, my family could have them taken out today."

She looked me up and down. "Here's what's gonna happen. You and those trashy old men you live with? You're all gonna beg me to forgive you."

'Should I really call them?'

I gripped my phone, staring at the 108 names in my contacts.

Dad Two was at the border. Last time we video called, there were bodies behind him.

Dad Three was overseas. The last time he reached out—three months ago—he was covered in blood.

Dad Seven sent an encrypted message. Said the mission was at its most critical stage. Don't contact him unless it's necessary.

Before every mission, they'd pat my head and say the same thing.

"Riley, if anything happens, call me. No matter where I am, I'll be in front of you in twenty-four hours."

But I knew what that really cost.

On paper, they had to look like the worst criminals alive—because they'd done too much dirty work for the country. Things no one could ever say out loud.

If their real identities got out, the people they crossed would come for them.

And it could get them killed.

"Mr. Todd..." I tried one last time, voice low. "They really can't come. There's no signal. I can't reach them. Can I... just apologize to her now? Please don't call my parents."

Mr. Todd let out a cold laugh.

"Apologize? You think trash like you can fix this by begging? Riley, last chance. Call your parents—have them show up, pay, and apologize—or you're expelled. Today. And forget college."

Expelled.

The word hit like a spike.

I couldn't be expelled.

I still had to get into college. I still had to... wait for my dads to finish their missions and tell them myself. I made it.

Tears blurred my vision.

My shaking fingers lit up the screen.

"Mr. Todd... don't expel me. I'll... call. I'll call right now."

I opened my contacts and found Dad One.

The second I tapped it, I shut my eyes.

'Sorry, Dad.'

Dad One's real name was Lance Cole.

At the Federal Security Bureau, they called him Evergreen—their top field agent. Years ago, he went overseas to hunt a traitor and came back taking the fall for thirty-six bodies.

My hand shook as the call rang.

I knew him too well.

When I was little, Dad Sixty-Seven let me ride a rocking horse. I fell off, and Dad One beat him for it.

"Riley's our girl. How did you let her get hurt?"

I remembered how mad he was... and now, if he found out what happened to me—

I didn't even want to picture it.

But I had no choice.

Out of all of them, Dad One was the calmest.

The second the call connected, I didn't hear his voice.

Footsteps. Fast. Then a low command—

"The target's in sight. All teams, move. No survivors."

I froze, gripping the phone so hard I forgot to breathe.

Then Dad One came on. Calm. Controlled. Like it was any normal day.

"Riley, what's wrong? Something happened?"

His voice softened, like he was asking what I wanted for dinner.

"I'm a little busy. Send me your location. I'll be there in twenty-four hours."

My throat locked up. I couldn't get a word out.

Twenty-four hours.

Where was he? What was he in the middle of?

If I said it, he'd drop everything. Years undercover—gone. Risk everything.

"No need, Dad!"

My voice cracked, but I pushed through.

"It's just a parent-teacher meeting. If you're busy, it's fine. I can handle it. I'm hanging up. Stay safe."

I ended the call.

A second later—smack.

The hit knocked me sideways on the bed.

Mr. Todd's face was red with rage.

"You think this is a joke? You call and hang up—this is you getting your parents here?!"

Vivian limped over and looked down at me, sneering.

"Dad, I heard it. He said twenty-four hours."

She dragged it out, mocking.

"What, is it prison break time? Those old freaks coming to pick her up?"

I snapped my head up.

My dads were heroes. Not freaks.

Before I could say anything, Linda grabbed my hair and slammed my head into the floor.

Bang.

Bang.

My forehead hit the cold tile. My vision flashed red.

Through the pain, I saw Vivian crouch down. Her voice dropped, eyes sharp—like a cat toying with a mouse.

"I'll give you one day. After school tomorrow, if that old freak you call a dad doesn't show up, apologize, and beg me to forgive you, I'll make sure everyone knows the daughter of murderers couldn't even stay in high school."

Mr. Todd backed her up, voice cold. "If no one shows, you're expelled."

I stayed on the floor and nodded.

'Maybe I should just drop out.'

Compared to my dads' lives... what did my future even matter?

Then I remembered Dad One holding me three years ago.

"Riley, you're the kid we're all proudest of. I can't wait to take your graduation photo."

My eyes burned again.

***

I went back to my apartment.

Dad Twenty-Three rented it for me. He even put two cameras in the hallway. Dad Forty-One hooked them to my phone. Back then he said, "Riley, now I can keep an eye on you 24/7."

I pushed the door open—and froze.

Steam filled the kitchen.

Dad Thirty-Two, Dad Sixty-Seven, and Dad Ninety-Four stood over different pots, arguing about the seasoning.

"You're back!"

Dad Sixty-Seven spotted me first. He set the spatula down and hurried over.

"Go wash your hands. Dinner's almost ready!"

"Wh-Why are you back?" I stayed by the door, voice shaking.

Dad Sixty-Seven grinned. "Mission's on pause. We got two days off."

Dad Thirty-Two walked over and pinched my cheek. "Missed you."

Dad Ninety-Four leaned out of the kitchen. "Riley, I heard you topped your class again. Why didn't you tell us? Let me go to the parent-teacher meeting. I'll make you look good."

"Let me go," Dad Sixty-Seven cut in. "I sound the most put-together."

"Who cares how you sound? We're trying to make Riley shine. And don't forget—you let her fall off that rocking horse," Dad Thirty-Two shot back, thumping his chest. "I'm the best-looking and the nicest. I should go."

They started arguing right there. Louder, faster—getting way too into it.

"How about we all go? Let those parents see how amazing our girl is!"

My nose stung. My eyes burned.

"Aren't you supposed to stay hidden?"

Dad Thirty-Two waved it off. "We'll keep it low-key. It's not a mission. No real risk."

"Exactly." Dad Ninety-Four patted my shoulder. "How could we miss something about you?"

I dropped my gaze, swallowing the words on my tongue.

If they showed up and found out Vivian had been bullying me... it wouldn't end well.

"Let's talk after the SAT," I said, forcing a smile. "It was just a regular test. No big deal."

"Fine. But for the SAT, you have to let us go." Dad Sixty-Seven looked bummed. "Come on, eat."

Halfway through dinner, Dad Thirty-Two glanced at me.

"Riley, why are you wearing a hat? It's way too hot in here."

I thought of the cut on my forehead and stiffened.

"It's just..."

He reached for my hat—then his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it, face tightening, and stepped onto the balcony.

I caught bits and pieces.

"Mission delayed... target running counter-surveillance... hold position..."

When he came back, I set my fork down.

"Dad."

All three of them looked at me.

"Can you transfer? Do something safer?" I kept my head down, voice steady. "I'm about to take the SAT. Once I'm done... I can support you."

Silence.

Three seconds.

Dad Thirty-Two's eyes went red. He covered his face. "You've grown up..."

Dad Sixty-Seven turned away, wiping his eyes. Dad Ninety-Four didn't say anything—just kept piling food onto my plate.

Two hours later, after reminding me over and over to take care of myself, they left three bank cards on the table and headed out.

I stood at the door, gave them a quick salute, and called out, "Stay safe!"

"Got it!"

The door clicked shut.

I stood alone in the living room, staring at the three bank cards on the table.

For a long time.

Then I opened my browser and slowly typed:

[rent a parent for a school meeting]

Early next morning, the guy I hired showed up.

Middle-aged. The name was Charlie.

Right before we hit the school gates, I ran him through the plan one more time.

He took the cash and nodded. Easy.

We hadn't even made it to class when—of course—Vivian.

Her eyes dragged over Charlie, slow and judgmental. Then she laughed. "Wow. Who's this? He screams paid actor."

My heart stuttered.

She sneered and walked off as she'd already won.

At the start of the parent-teacher meeting, they were supposed to invite the top student to the front.

But the one who stood was Linda. "My daughter Vivian has worked very hard this semester..."

A parent nearby flipped through a report card, frowning. "Isn't Riley number one?"

Linda heard. Of course she did. She turned, a smile locked in place.

"Speaking of Riley." A beat. Calm, smooth. "Her 'top score' came from copying Vivian."

The room went dead quiet.

She glanced at me. "And this child's guardians are death row inmates from Northbridge Maximum Security Prison. You all know what kind of people end up there."

A ripple moved through the room. Chairs scraped. Parents pulled their kids closer like I was contagious.

Charlie's hand shook. He looked at me, panic written all over him. "You're the daughter of death row inmates? I—I can't do this job!"

Silence. Again.

Through the anger and humiliation, I caught him hesitating. Like he might pull the cash out and give it back.

He didn't.

His jaw tightened, and he bolted for the door. "Why would I refund a murderer's daughter?"

The room exploded.

Vivian covered her mouth, laughing so hard her shoulders shook.

Mr. Todd shot up, face dark. "Riley Ray! This is a parent-teacher meeting, and you hired someone to fool us?"

My phone buzzed.

Dad Fifty-Five—Allan Hardy.

One of the top criminal investigators in the country.

[I'm in Northbridge. Came to see you. Which building are you in?]

Vivian already had her phone up, camera locked on me.

"Let's livestream it. Let everyone watch."

"Don't livestream." The words slipped out before I could stop them. "I'll apologize. My guardian's not here, but I'll apologize!"

Desperate to end it fast, I stepped onto the raised platform, grabbed the mic, and blurted, almost hysterical, "She's right! I copied the test! The score wasn't mine! I'm not smart enough to earn it! I'm sorry!"

I kept saying it. Over and over.

Then—someone shoved me from behind.

I stumbled. My forehead slammed into the edge of the platform.

Blood spread, sticky against the surface. When I lifted my head, it tugged where it had started to dry.

I pushed myself up, blood all over my face, and walked down.

The crowd split for me.

No one said a word.

Right after I stepped out, Vivian blocked me in the covered walkway.

"Leave? Did I say you could?"

She pulled a plastic bag from her purse—cafeteria scraps, still warm—and dumped it over my head.

Greasy broth slid down my hair. Bits stuck to my lashes.

"Eat it off the floor," she said. "And say, 'Thanks for the food, Vivian.'"

I didn't move.

She lifted her phone. "Then I'll livestream it."

"No!"

She laughed. "Too late. I already got it."

She shoved the phone in my face. My apology played back, clear as day.

"I can make you die whenever I want."

"You—"

My nails bit into my palm.

But for my dads—their safety, their identities—I dropped my head and slowly crouched.

Food scraps were everywhere. Mixed with dirt.

I didn't hesitate.

I reached down and scooped it up.

Just as Vivian and her minions cracked up right in my ear, a group rushed over.

"Riley."

The voice shook—but I knew it. It locked me in place.

I looked up.

Dad One stood in front. Behind him—Dad Thirty-Two, Dad Sixty-Seven, Dad Ninety-Four.

Their faces went dark. Silent. Taking in the scraps all over me, the blood on my face, the mess at my feet.

Dad One's rough fingers brushed my cheek.

Then he looked at Vivian and her minions, now dead quiet.

His voice dropped, low and heavy.

"What did you do to my daughter?"