Four Of A Kind

Chapter 73: [2.46] I Discover My Words Have a Blast Radius

The single word came from Mrs. Tanaka, who had appeared in the doorway with a tray. Her tone was gentle but carried the weight of authority earned over years of service.

All four sisters fell silent.

I watched this happen with a mixture of awe and amusement. Four heiresses to a billion-dollar empire, each one capable of reducing grown adults to nervous wrecks, and one housekeeper could silence them with a single word.

Mrs. Tanaka began serving dinner. Plates appeared in front of each of us bearing what looked like some kind of French cuisine. I couldn’t identify the specific dish, but it smelled incredible and probably cost more than my average monthly food budget.

“Chef Laurent prepared the salmon tonight,” Mrs. Tanaka explained. “With lemon butter sauce and roasted vegetables.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tanaka.” Vivienne’s tone softened noticeably.

“Yeah, thanks!” Harlow was already picking up her fork.

Cassidy grunted something that might have been gratitude.

Sabrina said nothing but inclined her head slightly.

Mrs. Tanaka’s eyes met mine for a brief moment. Something passed between us. A shared understanding of what it meant to serve in a house like this.

Then she withdrew, and dinner began.

The salmon was, predictably, the best thing I’d ever tasted. I tried not to think about how much it probably cost per bite. I tried not to think about how this single meal could have fed Iris and me for a week.

I failed on both counts.

Conversation flowed around me in patterns I was only beginning to recognize. Harlow carried most of the verbal real estate, chattering about cosplay projects and fashion club events and a new manga series she’d discovered. Vivienne interjected occasionally with schedule reminders or corrections. Cassidy offered sarcastic commentary between aggressive bites of food. Sabrina remained mostly silent, eating slowly while her eyes tracked the conversation.

Every few minutes, one of them would glance at me.

Harlow’s glances were accompanied by excited smiles and the occasional bounce.

Vivienne’s were quick evaluations, as if she was continuously assessing my performance.

Cassidy’s were brief, almost furtive, followed immediately by aggressive attention to her plate.

Sabrina’s were long and unreadable.

I felt like a specimen under observation. Four pairs of purple eyes, each one analyzing me through a different lens. Four identical faces, each one expressing something completely distinct.

“So, Isaiah.” Harlow turned to face me directly, nearly vibrating in her seat. “What do you think of the salmon?”

“It’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Very good.”

“That’s better! Chef Laurent is AMAZING. He trained in Paris for like a million years. Well, not literally a million, but a long time. He makes these croissants on Sunday mornings that are basically proof that heaven exists.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“No! You have to try them! Tomorrow! For breakfast! Promise me you’ll try them!”

“I’ll try them.”

“PROMISE.”

“I promise to try the croissants.”

Harlow beamed at me with an intensity that could probably power a small city. I found myself oddly charmed by her relentless enthusiasm. It was exhausting, sure, but also genuine in a way that was hard to fake.

“What about you, scholarship boy?” Cassidy’s voice carried an edge that had become familiar over the past week. “You got any fancy food experiences to share? Or do you just eat instant ramen every night?”

The comment was meant to sting. I could see it in the way her purple eyes waited for my reaction.

I took another bite of salmon. Chewed. Swallowed.

“The ramen’s pretty good, actually. I use the little chili flakes from the packet. Really brings out the sodium.”

Cassidy blinked.

Harlow giggled.

Sabrina made a sound that might have been amusement.

Even Vivienne’s lips twitched slightly before she smoothed her expression back to professional neutrality.

Cassidy’s cheeks flushed, and she stabbed her fork into her salmon with unnecessary violence.

“Whatever.”

“But since you asked,” I continued, “the best food experience I’ve had recently was probably the boba run. The girl at the shop, Mira? She recommended the lychee jelly. Changed my whole perspective on chewy beverages.”

The temperature at the table dropped by several degrees.

Cassidy’s fork froze mid-stab.

Harlow’s bounce halted.

Sabrina’s eyes sharpened with interest.

Even Vivienne looked up from her tablet.

“Mira.” Cassidy’s voice was flat. “The boba shop girl. You remember her name.”

“She wrote it on the cup.”

“And you kept that information. In your brain.”

“It’s not really a storage issue. I have room.”

“Room for random girl names.”

“Room for relevant information.”

Cassidy’s grip on her fork tightened to the point where I worried about the structural integrity of the silverware. Her purple eyes had gone dark with something I couldn’t identify.

“Right. The jelly thing. Very helpful.”

“Cass…” Harlow’s voice carried a warning tone.

“What? I’m just saying. He’s very good at remembering things. Names. Faces. Probably phone numbers too.”

I blinked. “Is this about the name on the cup?”

“This isn’t about anything.”

“Because she was the cashier. That’s the entire relationship. I ordered boba. She made boba. Transaction complete.”

“I don’t care about your transactions.”

“You seem like you care about this transaction specifically.”

Cassidy’s chair scraped back. She stood, her napkin hitting the table with more force than fabric should reasonably produce.

“I’m done eating.”

“You’ve barely touched—” Vivienne began.

“Done. Eating.”

She stormed out of the dining room. The door swung shut behind her with a finality that echoed in the sudden silence.

Harlow stared at her sister’s abandoned plate. Sabrina returned to her book, though I noticed she hadn’t turned a page. Vivienne sighed with the weariness of someone who dealt with this regularly.

I sat there, still holding my fork, trying to figure out what had just happened.

“Don’t take it personally.” Vivienne’s voice was clipped. “She’s… temperamental.”

“I noticed.”

“She’ll calm down by morning.”

“What exactly did I do?”

The three remaining sisters exchanged glances. Some kind of silent communication passed between them, a language I wasn’t fluent in.

Harlow spoke first. “You mentioned another girl.”

“The cashier.”

“Any other girl.”

I processed this information. Ran it against everything I knew about Cassidy’s behavior over the past week. The way she bristled whenever someone got too close. The way she pushed people away before they could push her first.

The way she glared at me like I’d personally insulted her family name, then blushed when I caught her staring.

Oh.

Oh no.

My sister’s warnings echoed in my head. The rules she’d established. The predictions she’d made about this exact situation.

I was an idiot.

A complete, absolute, catastrophic idiot.

“I should…” I gestured vaguely toward the door.

“She probably wants to be alone,” Vivienne said.

“She probably does.” I set down my napkin. “But sometimes what people want and what they need are different things.”

Three pairs of purple eyes watched me leave the dining room.

I had no idea where Cassidy had gone, but I had a guess.