Four Of A Kind

Chapter 76: [2.49] The Price of Failure is Four Unlimited Favors

I stood at the wooden gate of the Japanese garden, my hand frozen on the latch. Inside, the Valentine sisters huddled together on the engawa. Their voices carried through the evening air, hushed and broken. Something about their father. Something about detention and photoshoots and promises.

I backed away silently.

Some problems weren’t mine to solve. Some moments weren’t mine to witness. Whatever storm had driven Cassidy from the dinner table was being weathered by the four of them together, and that was how it should be.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I reached the main path.

Harlow:Hey! Cass is fine! We’re all fine! Family stuff. But tutoring is definitely cancelled for tonight. Can you meet us in the home theater in 60 minutes? We have… a new kind of test for you! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

I stared at the message, reading it twice. The dinner disaster had apparently resolved itself without my intervention. Good. Great, actually. One less complication in a weekend already packed with them. And tutoring was cancelled, which meant I had an unexpected hour of free time in my carefully scheduled Valentine weekend.

My feet carried me back to the east wing, up the grand staircase, and down the endless hallway to my guest suite. I slid the keycard and pushed open the double doors.

Silence greeted me. Complete, perfect silence. No neighbors arguing through thin walls. No sirens wailing outside. No ancient pipes groaning inside the walls. Just… quiet.

I collapsed onto the king-sized bed, fully clothed in my borrowed designer outfit, and stared at the ceiling.

What exactly was I doing here?

The Valentine family had hired me to tutor Cassidy and manage schedules. Simple enough in theory. But the reality was proving far more complicated. In less than a month, I’d been shoved into a shower stall, forced to feed Sabrina ramen while she lounged in lingerie, helped Vivienne with a stuck zipper on a half-million-dollar dress, and somehow become the focal point of Cassidy’s jealousy over a boba shop cashier.

This wasn’t a job. It was a minefield of teenage emotions, billion-dollar privilege, and unprocessed grief.

I closed my eyes, just for a minute. Just to reset.

The next time I opened them, the clock read 7:52 PM. I’d been asleep for nearly an hour.

I sat up, ran a hand through my hair, and checked my phone. No new messages. Eight minutes until my mysterious “test” in the home theater.

After splashing cold water on my face in the marble bathroom and changing into the navy shirt and dark jeans from my shopping trip with Felix (the only outfit that was actually mine), I made my way down to the west wing where the home theater was located.

The mansion was quiet at night, with only the occasional staff member nodding politely as they passed. I found the theater easily enough—double doors with movie poster frames on either side, currently displaying whatever films the Valentine sisters had watched most recently. “Titanic” on the left. “John Wick 4” on the right. An interesting contrast.

The doors were slightly ajar, light from the hallway spilling into the darkened room. I could make out several silhouettes in the front row of what looked like large recliners.

I pushed the door open fully and fumbled along the wall until my fingers found the light switch.

The room’s recessed lighting came up slowly, revealing a home theater that put most commercial cinemas to shame. A massive screen dominated the far wall. Stadium-style seating with plush recliners. A popcorn machine and small concession stand sat in the back corner.

And in the front row, four identical figures turned to face me.

Four identical faces.

Four identical sets of wine-red hair, all styled loose and flowing down their backs.

Four identical outfits.

My hand froze on the light switch.

They were wearing matching silk pajama sets in a deep burgundy color. Thin, camisole-style tops with delicate straps that revealed smooth shoulders and more cleavage than I had any business seeing. Shorts so short they qualified as a legal fiction rather than actual clothing. The silk clung to curves that were, genetically speaking, exactly the same on each sister.

I kept my face completely neutral as my brain worked overtime.

So this was happening.

One of them—I was 40% sure it was Harlow based on the slight bounce in her posture—stood up and approached me. She handed me a folded piece of paper covered in bubbly handwriting with hearts dotting the i’s.

I unfolded it and read:

WELCOME TO THE VALENTINE QUADRUPLET GUESSING GAME!!!

Rules:

1. You must correctly identify which sister is which

2. You can ask questions or request simple actions

3. NO TOUCHING!!! (This means you, mister!)

4. You only get ONE guess for all four of us

5. You have 30 minutes to decide

GOOD LUCK!!! ♡♡♡

I looked up from the paper, my expression carefully blank.

“Why would I do this? What do I get out of it?”

“If you win, you get one ’Get Out of a Task Free’ card. You can use it once, on any of us, to refuse any single order. No questions asked.”

Another voice added, “However, if you lose, you have to do one favor for each of us. No matter what it is.”

A third sister murmured, “And you only get one guess. For all four of us. Get one wrong, and you lose.”

The fourth remained silent, watching me with purple eyes that gave away nothing.

I considered the offer. One “get out of jail free” card could be incredibly valuable, especially given some of the more… questionable requests I’d received in my short tenure. But four favors with no limitations? That was a recipe for disaster.

On the other hand, refusing to play would be seen as weakness. And I had a feeling they’d make me pay for that in ways far more creative than four random favors.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll play.”

The one who had handed me the paper—still my top pick for Harlow—clapped her hands excitedly.

“Yay! The game is officially starting! Clock starts now!”