14. Theodore
14
THEODORE
I t looks like we’re studying.
In a way, we are—but not for school.
Julian is sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a fortress of books, his dark brows furrowed in concentration. Maxwell is sprawled on the bed, tossing a pencil in the air and catching it lazily, and I’m at the desk, thumbing through a worn book.
Heavy footsteps echo in the hallway, growing louder as they approach. Julian’s head snaps up, his eyes darting to the door just as it swings open. We freeze.
Father Calloway steps inside, his gaze sweeping over the room. “ What are you boys up to?”
“ Studying ,” I say quickly.
Calloway’s eyes narrow, lingering on the books scattered across the floor and desk. Julian subtly shifts, his hand sliding over one of the covers to obscure the title. Maxwell sits up straighter, the pencil clattering to the floor.
“ Studying ,” Calloway repeats skeptically. He doesn’t press further, though. Instead , he straightens and clasps his hands behind his back. “ The family I mentioned will be arriving this afternoon to meet you.”
My stomach tightens.
“ They’ll want to speak with each of you,” Calloway continues. “ I suggest you make yourselves presentable.” His gaze lingers on Maxwell for a moment, who smirks in return.
“ Yes , Father ,” I say, cutting off whatever cheeky remark Maxwell was about to make.
Satisfied , Calloway nods and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.
The moment his steps fade down the hall, Julian pulls the book back into view. “ That was close.”
“ Too close,” I say, exhaling sharply. I glance at Maxwell , who’s already reclining back on the bed like nothing happened.
“ We’re fine,” Maxwell says with a grin. “ He didn’t see anything.”
Ignoring him, I turn back to Julian . “ What else did you find?”
His fingers skim over the page. “ I found a few mentions of the Whitmores in the town history books. They were one of the founding families of Ebonridge . They’ve been here since the beginning.”
“ Well , that explains why they’re loaded,” Maxwell quips.
“ Keep reading,” I urge Julian .
Julian flips through the book until he stops at a faded photograph. The image shows a group of men and women in Victorian attire, standing in front of an elaborate mansion.
“ Here ,” Julian says, pointing. “ These are the Whitmores .”
I lean over to get a better look, my eyes scanning the faces in the photograph.
“ Who is he?” I ask.
Julian scans the caption beneath the photo. “ Elias Addington . He was from the Addington family—one of the other founding families of Ebonridge .”
“ None of this explains why the Whitmores suddenly want to adopt me.”
Julian closes the book, his expression thoughtful.
Maxwell claps a hand on my shoulder. “ Guess you’re special, Theo .”
I shrug him off, my jaw tightening. “ This isn’t funny, Max .”
“ Who said I was joking? Look , whatever this is, we’ll figure it out. You’re not going through it alone.”
Julian nods in agreement.
* * *
Hours pass in a haze of tension.
A knock at my door breaks the silence. Father Gray steps in, his eyes settling on me. “ Theodore , it’s time.”
As I follow him down the hall, my heartbeat quickens with every step. When we pass the library doors, I catch a glimpse of the other boys milling about, laughing and shoving at each other like it’s just another day. But for me, nothing feels the same.
When we reach Father Calloway’s office, the door opens, and Julian steps out, his dark eyes blazing with anger.
Our gazes lock, and I almost ask him what happened, but he brushes past me without a word.
As soon as I step inside, the atmosphere shifts.
Father Calloway stands behind his desk, a polite but strained smile on his face. Sitting in the chairs opposite him are a man and a woman who look like they’ve stepped out of a painting.
The man exudes authority. His salt and pepper hair is slicked back, and his tailored suit fits like it was made for him.
The woman beside him is just as striking. Her blonde hair is pinned back in a way that’s both elegant and severe, and her deep burgundy dress looks expensive enough to feed every boy in this orphanage for a year. She assesses me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“ Theodore , this is Mr . Lionel Whitmore and his wife, Margaret .”
I straighten my shoulders, refusing to let them see any nerves.
Lionel stands, extending his hand. His grip is firm, his eyes boring into mine.
Margaret stays seated, offering a thin smile. “ We’ve heard a lot about you, Theodore .”
I glance at Father Calloway , whose expression gives nothing away. “ Good things, I hope.”
Lionel smiles. “ Very good things. You’ve made quite an impression here.”
I don’t know how to reply, so I nod, keeping my face neutral.
“ Please , sit,” Margaret says, gesturing to the chair across from her.
I do as she says, every muscle in my body coiled tight.
Father Calloway clears his throat, drawing my attention. “ The Whitmores are interested in adopting you, Theodore .”
Lionel speaks up. “ We believe you have great potential. We’d like to offer you an opportunity to become part of our family.”
I should be grateful, excited, relieved, but all I feel is suspicion .
“ Why me?” My voice is sharper than I intended.
Margaret tilts her head, her smile still perfectly in place. “ Because you’re special.”
The answer feels rehearsed. My hands grip the arms of the chair, my knuckles turning white.
Lionel leans forward. “ This isn’t just a chance to leave this place, Theodore . It’s a chance to be part of something greater.”
Something greater.
Father Calloway shifts uncomfortably behind his desk, and I catch the unease in his eyes.
“ I’m not leaving without Julian and Maxwell .”
The room goes quiet for a beat. Lionel leans back in his chair, regarding me with a calculated expression.
“ Ah , yes. Julian is the quiet one. Reserved , isn’t he?”
“ He is, but he’s family to me, and so is Maxwell . If I’m going anywhere, they’re coming with me.”
Lionel hums, his lips curling into what I think is supposed to be a smile. “ Julian might be quiet, but it’s not a bad thing. A boy like that could fit into the family well.”
I glance at Father Calloway , who remains silent. My gaze shifts back to Lionel . “ What about Maxwell ?”
Lionel meets my eyes. “ If that’s what you want, we won’t separate you,” he says simply, as if the decision is as easy as picking a tie to wear.
Relief sparks in my chest, but it’s quickly snuffed out by my skepticism. I don’t trust them, but if this is what it takes to make sure we stick together, so be it.
I cross my arms, letting out a sharp breath. “ I guess I don’t really have a say if this is what you’ve decided.”
Father Calloway gives me a solemn nod, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, as if in prayer. “ Theodore , this is a chance for you and the others to have a new life, one with opportunities.”
I’m not sure if I believe that, but I bite back the sarcastic comment on the tip of my tongue.
“ Great ,” Lionel says, standing and smoothing down his suit jacket. His smile is a little too wide. “ We’ll be back for the boys next week.”
I watch as he shakes Father Calloway’s hand then turns to leave the office, Margaret following close behind. Just before they step out, Lionel glances back at me. “ Take care, Theodore .”
* * *
The mansion is like something out of a dream—or a nightmare.
I can’t believe the sheer size of the place.
It towers above us, and everything about it feels imposing, as if the very walls whisper secrets we weren’t meant to hear.
I’m taking in the grandeur of it all—the heavy iron gates swinging open, the circular driveway, the carved statues staring down at us—when Julian’s hand shoots out, gripping my wrist so tight, I almost yank away.
“ Theo ,” he murmurs.
I turn to him. “ What ?”
His gaze locks on the house, his pupils blown wide. “ We’ve seen this before.”
I frown. “ What are you talking about?”
Julian swallows, glancing over his shoulder, as if checking to make sure no one is listening. “ The book,” he says. “ The one from the library. The Lost Histories of Vanguard .”
The name alone makes my stomach tighten. It’s one of the only books in the orphanage worth reading, filled with old accounts of the town’s founding families, stories of power, bloodlines, and the legacy of the elite. And among the brittle pages, there was a photograph…
I turn back to the mansion, eyes scanning the arched windows, the ivy creeping up the stone, the sprawling balconies. A chill settles in my bones.
“ Shit ,” I mutter under my breath. “ You’re right.”
Julian’s grip on my wrist tightens before he finally lets go. “ This mansion isn’t just some founding family’s heirloom,” he whispers. “ It’s their house.”