Chapter 82: 82 | My Guardian’s Idea of Continued Excellence
The digital clock on Sloane’s phone read 7:48 PM. We’d been sprawled across the living room couch for almost an hour now, recounting our Halloran entrance exam experiences to Diane over FaceTime. My body still ached from the physical punishment I’d put it through, but Boundless Stamina kept me from collapsing completely.
"—and then I literally punched through the chest plate," Sloane was saying, her hands gesturing wildly as she described her encounter with a three-pointer robot. "The thing sparked and went down hard. That was probably my favorite takedown of the day."
Diane’s face filled the screen of Sloane’s propped-up phone. Even through the video call, her presence commanded attention. She wore a cream-colored dress that hugged her figure perfectly, her pink hair falling loosely around her shoulders. Business casual for her Chicago conference, but somehow making it look like haute couture.
"That’s my girl," Diane laughed, her Southern drawl warming the words. "I always said you had a gift for making an entrance. What about you, Lukas? How many points did you end up with?"
I shifted on the couch, suddenly aware of how close Sloane was sitting next to me. Her thigh pressed against mine, warm through her sweatpants.
"Twenty-one points total. Not bad, not great. I spent most of my time setting up other applicants for kills rather than going solo."
"That’s actually smart strategy," Diane nodded approvingly. "Halloran doesn’t just look at raw numbers. They want students who can think beyond the obvious solution."
"That’s what I told him!" Sloane nudged me with her elbow. "Turns out he’s got a brain under all that hair."
I ran my fingers through my dirty blonde hair self-consciously. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"And you helped that girl with the illusion powers?" Diane asked, her blue eyes sharp even through the screen. Nothing escaped her notice. "When the zero-pointer appeared?"
"Yeah. She was trying to save another applicant who was injured. Couldn’t leave her there."
Diane’s expression softened. "Reina and Marcus would be proud of you, sugar. That’s the kind of decision that separates heroes from people who just have powers."
Something twisted in my chest at the mention of my parents. Not my parents, technically. The original Lukas’s parents. The people whose legacy I was borrowing without permission.
"You think I did enough to get in?" I asked, hating the uncertainty in my voice.
Diane leaned closer to her camera. "Honey, you were never going to outmuscle those kids who’ve been training since they were six. But you played smarter, not harder. Halloran needs students who understand that heroism isn’t just about who hits the hardest."
"But—"
"No buts. You showed up two weeks after manifesting and held your own against applicants with years of training. That counts for something." Her voice carried the finality of someone who wouldn’t tolerate further argument.
Sloane suddenly jumped to her feet. "I’m dying of thirst. Gonna grab a soda. You want one?"
"Pineapple if we have it," I replied.
Sloane disappeared into the kitchen, her footsteps fading down the hall. The moment she was out of earshot, Diane’s expression changed. Her professional mask slipped, revealing something hungrier beneath.
She bit her lower lip, her eyes never leaving mine as she adjusted her position. The camera angle shifted, and suddenly I was looking at more than just her face. She slowly pulled the neckline of her cream dress to the side, exposing the lace edge of her bra and then tugging that down too.
My breath caught as she revealed her breast, perfectly shaped and achingly familiar after our nights together. The Oracle Feed helpfully informed me that her arousal metrics were spiking, as if I needed a system to tell me what her expression made obvious.
"Miss me?" she whispered, her voice dropping to that husky register that haunted my dreams.
"Diane—what are you—" I glanced anxiously toward the kitchen.
She smirked and tilted the camera lower, showing me the hem of her dress pushed up her thighs. Her fingers traced along the edge of her panties, a light blue lace that contrasted with her skin tone.
"Just giving you something to think about until I get home tomorrow." She adjusted the camera back to her face, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Consider it... motivation for continued excellence."
My brain short-circuited. Sloane could walk back in at any moment. I could hear her in the kitchen, the refrigerator opening and closing, ice clinking in glasses.
"Your daughter is literally in the next room," I hissed.
"Then you’d better not make any suspicious faces, should you?" Diane’s smile widened. "I’ve been thinking about you all day, stuck in these boring meetings."
The System pinged a notification: Diane Fitzgerald’s Temptation Gauge has increased by 2% to 60% total. Threshold: DEVOTED stage reached.
"She’ll be back any second," I warned, my voice tight.
"Then I suppose you’ll have to wait for the rest of your preview until tomorrow night." Diane’s hands moved with practiced efficiency, readjusting her dress and bra in a matter of seconds. The transformation was immediate and complete—the teasing seductress vanished, replaced by the composed CEO as if a switch had been flipped. "I land at 4 PM. Be ready for a proper welcome home."
The footsteps from the kitchen grew louder. Closer.
I forced my expression into something that wouldn’t scream ’your mother just flashed me her tits over FaceTime.’ Neutral. Casual. Just a normal video call with the woman who had raised me for nine years and was now apparently determined to corrupt me completely.
Sloane reappeared with two glasses of soda, handing me one filled with golden pineapple fizz.
"What’d I miss?" she asked, dropping back onto the couch beside me.
"Just telling Lukas how proud I am of both of you," Diane replied smoothly. Her Southern accent seemed more pronounced now, part of her camouflage. "The acceptance letters should arrive within two weeks. Though I might be able to get an early peek through some contacts at the academy."
"Mom! That’s cheating," Sloane protested.
"It’s networking, sugar. There’s a difference." Diane checked her watch. "I should get going. I have dinner with the Chicago agency head in twenty minutes."
"Talk to you tomorrow?" Sloane asked.
"Of course. Love you both."
