Chapter 795: Family

Mom either missed the subtext or chose to ignore it—nurse instincts prioritizing triage over teenage drama. "Inside. All of you. I made enough bacon to feed an army, and Jasmine’s already eaten half of it."

"Lies," Jasmine said, already steering Madison toward the door with an arm around her shoulders. "I only ate a third. The rest is fair game."

They disappeared inside, Jasmine’s laugh trailing behind her like expensive perfume.

Soo-Jin fell into step beside me as we followed. Her voice came soft, professional, pitched for my ears only.

"The aunt."

Not a question. An observation.

"The aunt,"

I confirmed.

"She want you."

"I know."

"Does Madison know?"

"Is there anything Madison doesn’t know about women who wants me?"

Soo-Jin processed this for exactly 1.3 seconds. "Your life complicated."

"My life is a fucking soap opera with supernatural elements and a financial empire." I paused at the threshold. "But yeah. Complicated works too."

Mom’s house smelled like bacon and coffee and

home

—that specific combination of scents that couldn’t be replicated or manufactured, only earned through years of Saturday mornings and burnt toast and arguments about whose turn it was to do dishes.

The mansion was still new to us. Three months old, bought with money that still felt imaginary even though ARIA assured me it was very, very real. Tudor-style exterior, five bedrooms, actual marble countertops instead of the laminate we’d grown up with. A far cry from the cramped grandma house.

Jasmine had commandeered the kitchen island, perched on a stool with her bare legs crossed, coffee cup in hand like she was holding court. Madison slid onto the stool beside her—close enough that their shoulders brushed, close enough that Jasmine’s grin turned sharp and interested.

"So,"

Jasmine said, eyes tracking me as I entered. "Those bikes. The matching black tactical gear. The Korean girl who looks like she could kill someone with a look." She gestured at Soo-Jin with her coffee cup. "No offense."

"None taken

." Soo-Jin’s voice was flat.

"I could."

Jasmine blinked. Laughed. "I like her. Even though you compared me to her."

"Everyone does." I moved to the coffee pot, poured myself a cup of liquid survival. "Eventually."

Mom emerged from the pantry with a carton of eggs, nurse-eyes doing that thing where she assessed everyone’s vital signs without looking like she was doing it. The time on leave hadn’t dulled her instincts—if anything, having nothing to do but worry about her family had sharpened them to a razor edge.

"Peter, honey, sit. You look like you haven’t slept."

"I slept."

"You

napped

." She cracked eggs into a bowl with practiced efficiency—the movements of someone who’d been making breakfast for her children since they were too small to reach the stove, and would keep doing it until arthritis or death stopped her.

"There’s a difference. Jasmine, stop

flirting

with your

nephew’s girlfriend."

"I’m not

flirting."

Jasmine’s voice was pure innocence wrapped in sin. "I’m bonding. Girl talk. Very wholesome."

"Your version of wholesome gives me hives."

Madison laughed—that low, genuine sound that hit me somewhere in the chest every time I heard it. "She’s fine, Moth- —Linda. We’re discussing the finer points of motorcycle aesthetics."

"Uh-huh."

Mom wasn’t buying it. Didn’t need to. She’d raised me; she knew exactly how much bullshit could hide behind innocent smiles. "Soo-Jin, dear, do you eat eggs?"

"Yes, ma’am." Soo-Jin had positioned herself near the kitchen entrance—covering sight lines to the front and back doors without looking like she was doing it. Professional. Paranoid.

Mine

. "Thank you."

"Good. Because I’m have enough to feed everyone and their secrets." She shot me a look that said she knew about the secrets even if she didn’t know what they were. "Peter. Sit. Now."

I sat.

Some powers transcended the supernatural. Mom-voice was one of them.

Jasmine leaned forward on the counter, crop top gaping in ways that were definitely intentional. "So. Tommy."

I paused mid-sip. "What about Tommy?"

"You mentioned going to see him. Something about Mia." Her eyes sparkled with the particular gleam of someone who’d caught a scent and planned to chase it. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Trouble in

something

." I set my coffee down. "He’s spiraling. She’s... I don’t know what she is. But it’s not good, and he’s texting me like I’m his relationship therapist."

"Are you?"

"I’m a

teenage god

with a superiority complex and exactly zero healthy relationship templates to draw from." I shrugged. "So yeah, apparently I’m everyone’s relationship therapist now. Makes perfect sense."

Madison reached over, squeezed my hand. Brief. Grounding. A reminder that I wasn’t entirely full of shit, even when I felt like it.

"You’re good at it," she said quietly. "The advice thing. You actually listen."

"I listen because ARIA processes faster than I do and feeds me analysis in real-time."

"You listen," Madison repeated, "because you care. The AI just helps you organize it."

Jasmine watched this exchange with an expression I couldn’t quite read—something between fascination and jealousy and

wanting

. Her legs uncrossed and recrossed.

Subtle. Telling.

"Must be nice," she murmured. "Having someone who actually pays attention."

Mom’s spatula paused mid-scramble. The silence lasted exactly two heartbeats—long enough to notice, short enough to pretend we hadn’t.

"Right,"

Mom said, voice determinedly cheerful. "Eggs are almost done. Jasmine, set. Peter, pour juice. Madison, you’re on toast duty. Soo-Jin—" She paused, clearly trying to figure out how to assign domestic tasks to someone who looked like she’d rather be cleaning weapons. "Would you like to supervise?"

Soo-Jin’s lips twitched. "Supervision is acceptable."

We moved into breakfast choreography—the kind of organized chaos that happened in kitchens when too many people tried to help and somehow made it work anyway. Plates clattered. Silverware clinked.

Jasmine "accidentally" brushed against me reaching for glasses, her hip pressing mine for exactly long enough to make a point.

I pretended not to notice. She pretended she hadn’t done it on purpose. Madison caught my eye and smiled like she was watching a show she’d already bought popcorn for.

This. Right here.

The bacon sizzling. Mom humming something off-key. Jasmine’s dangerous laughter. Madison’s warmth at my side. Soo-Jin standing guard like we were all made of something worth protecting.

This was why I did any of it. This was the thing the money and power and supernatural bullshit existed to protect.

Family.

Even when family was complicated. Even when family included an aunt who looked at me like she was deciding which parts to devour first. Even when family meant a Korean assassin-in-training perched by the door, calculating threat vectors between bites of scrambled eggs.

And I was a god who couldn’t fix everything no matter how much power I accumulated.

Some problems weren’t solved with money or supernatural abilities or strategic planning. Some problems required actually showing up. Actually listening. Actually being present for someone who needed you.

Five billion dollars

, I thought, watching Mom finally sit down to eat, watching the exhaustion catch up to her mid-bite.

All this power. All these abilities.

And sometimes the only thing that matters is being in the right place at the right time with the right words.

"Peter." Mom’s voice cut through my thoughts. "Eat. Your eggs are getting cold."

"Yes, ma’am."

I ate.

And planned.

And wondered what kind of god-complex bullshit I’d gotten myself into now—trying to save everyone from everything while my bacon went from crispy to lukewarm.

But that was the job, wasn’t it? Being responsible for the people you loved. Being present even when presence felt inadequate. Being human despite the supernatural overlay that made everything else feel like a video game with cheat codes enabled.

A/N:

I do not think I delivered well today, I am sorry I am sick and I hope you forgive me today guys.