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?"

The air went ice-cold.

I stared at Dad One. My throat locked up. The burn behind my eyes finally spilled over.

The past few days—I'd carried it all alone. Kept it buried. Didn't even dare cry out loud. If they found out, they'd come. And that would only drag them into this.

"Dad..."

"Oh, so these are your dads?" Vivian cut in, sharp and nasty.

Her eyes swept over them. Then she laughed. "Wait. Weren't your dads on death row? How are they even here?"

She laughed harder. "Don't tell me they broke out."

Her crew swarmed in, phones up, cameras clicking nonstop.

My chest tightened.

"Stop filming!" I stepped in front of them without thinking.

Then I turned to my dads, voice low. "You need to go. Your identities can't get out!"

Dad One didn't move.

He just set his rough hand on my head, gentle.

"So that's why you didn't tell us." His voice stayed steady. "Silly kid. What we do is classified. Our names aren't on any honors list, but the government knows. And after everything we've done for this country, it won't leave our kid unprotected."

I froze.

Dad Thirty-Two spoke, slow and rough. "How long have you been carrying this alone?"

Dad Sixty-Seven said nothing. His fists were tight.

Dad Ninety-Four just stared at the blood on my forehead, his gaze cold as steel.

So that was it.

I'd been wrong about everything.

"Dad!"

I threw myself into Dad One's arms and broke down. Between sobs, I told them everything—the freezing water dumped down my collar, ink all over my books, the cheating accusation, my name wiped off the top spot, all the humiliation... and today—the meeting, getting shoved and hitting my head, the food scraps.

"I was scared you'd come if you knew. Scared your identities would get out. I didn't want to put you in danger..."

Footsteps came from the other end of the walkway.

"What are you doing?!"

Mr. Todd rushed over with Linda.

Linda looked my dads up and down and sneered. "What now? More hired actors? You brat, don't think you can bully my daughter."

Her hand came up.

I caught her wrist.

I lifted my head and looked her straight in the eye.

Behind me, my dads stood there—silent, solid.

I had nothing left to fear.

"Not this time."

A luxury car screeched to a stop by the gate.

Graham jumped out and grabbed my collar. "You brat. Do you even know who I am? In Northbridge, there's no one I can't crush!"

He kept going—until his eyes landed on Dad One.

His voice cut off.

He stared. His face shifted. Then he glanced at the others, lips shaking. "You... You're..."

Dad One stepped forward. "Twenty years ago, when drug dealers were hunting you, I saved your life."

His eyes dropped to the hand gripping my collar. Calm. Cold. "Twenty years later, you're grabbing my daughter."

He paused, pulled out his phone, dialed, said a few words, and hung up.

Then—

A low roar rolled across the sky.

One helicopter. Two. Ten. Twenty...

Olive-drab choppers swept in from every direction, circling above the school. The windows rattled.

Then came the grind of tracks tearing over asphalt.

One vehicle. Two. Three...

Armored trucks rolled in from the corner, black muzzles aimed at the gate.

One man. Two. Ten. A hundred...

Men poured in from every side, surrounding Graham, surrounding Vivian, locking down the entire entrance.

Graham went pale.

The hand on my collar loosened—slow, shaky.

Dad One stood at the front, gray hair sharp against his old uniform. His eyes dropped to that hand. His voice came slowly.

"In this life, we bled for this country. It gave us honor. And we made one promise."

He stepped forward. "To protect her."

A beat. Then, colder—

"Go on. Didn't you say her dads were a joke?"

Behind him, the other one hundred and seven men moved in sync.

Boots slammed down—one heavy beat. The ground trembled.

"We're right here." Their voices hit all at once. "Touch our girl again—just try it."