Chapter 138: Weird Monday Morning

Published Mar 14, 2026, 05:14 AM

Chapter 138: Weird Monday Morning Monday morning in the Carter household felt different. Not in the good way. Not in the "holy shit we’re rich now" kind of way. More like the kind of tension you feel right before a storm hits—air too still, smiles too forced, like the whole house was holding its breath and didn’t know why. Peter woke up at 6:00 AM sharp, his body adjusting to its enhancements like a machine that didn’t believe in snooze buttons anymore. No alarm. No groaning. Just cold tiles, fast water, clean clothes that Madison had picked out with her "this makes you look casually powerful" logic. Downstairs, the kitchen lights were too bright, too early. Mom was already up and dressed, staring at her Mercedes keys like they were a dream she might wake up from. "Morning, baby," she said, pouring coffee from the ancient machine that looked hilariously prehistoric now. Like it belonged in a museum for broke people. "Sleep well?" "Like the dead," Peter lied, because in reality, he’d spent half the night watching ARIA whisper updates about Emma’s heart rate spikes and her four separate anxiety spirals. The other half? Designing layered perimeter defense for the Vampire House with a neural-linked interface system. Y’know. Normal stuff. Sarah was at the table, textbooks already open, highlighter in hand like she was cramming for finals on a Monday morning—which she technically was. "Morning, Peter," she said without looking up. "Did you know the GLE has a study mode? Auto-adjusts lighting and muffles road noise. I might actually pass calculus now." ’My sister’s turning German luxury into a study hack. That’s so Sarah it physically hurts. Next, she’s gonna program the seat warmers for optimized brain performance.’ Then came Emma. Last one down. She moved like her bones were heavier than they used to be. No bounce. No humming. No commentary about her dreams or celebrity drama or TikToks with too much eyeliner and chaos. Just quiet. "Morning, Em," Peter said, voice carefully casual, eyes locked on her like a sniper tracking movement. "Morning," she mumbled, barely audible, grabbing toast and picking at it like it had personally wronged her. ’Yeah, no. That’s not Emma. Normal Emma eats like she’s in a timed competition. Normal Emma talks with her mouth full and forgets to breathe between thoughts. This Emma? This is someone gearing up to survive something.’ Then Madison showed up. Of course she did. Right on time. Dressed like an Instagram ad for effortless wealth and danger. Perfect hair, perfect posture, the kind of girl who could walk through a battlefield and still smell like vanilla and confidence. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮 "Morning, Carter family," she said, all sugar and sunlight, accepting coffee from Mom like she belonged here, like she was part of the family already. And she was. "Ready for another day in paradise?" Sarah grinned. "Ready to pretend we’re still normal teenagers who one day will have built-in Wi-Fi and luxury panic rooms." "Speak for yourself," Peter said, sipping coffee. "I’ve fully embraced the rich kid lifestyle. Next few months I’m buying a private jet just to avoid gym class." That got a laugh. Even Mom smiled. It was light. Normal. Except for Emma. Still silent. Still dismantling her toast crumb by crumb like it was therapy. And of course, Madison noticed. She was sharp. Too sharp to miss it. "You okay, Emma?" she asked, head tilted just a little. Like she already knew the answer. Emma smiled. Not a real one. Not even close. The kind of smile you practice in mirrors when you’re trying to convince your parents you’re not crying in the school bathroom every third period. "Just tired!" she said, chipper and fake. "Big weekend, you know?"’ ’Bullshit. Same line she fed us yesterday. Still doesn’t hold up. Emma doesn’t get this quiet unless something’s broken. And right now, something’s broken. Or worse—someone broke her.’ Peter didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to. But his eyes stayed on her. And in his wrist, ARIA buzzed softly—monitoring, recording, waiting. The toast would be the first casualty. The second? He was seeing Isabella at schools after their first time, and he could already smell the expectations of fucking her in her office or staff room after school on a table. The third casualty? Whoever made his sister afraid to go to school. * The ride to school was usually filled with Emma’s commentary on everything from music to gossip to whatever random thoughts popped into her head. Today she sat in the back of Madison’s Range Rover like she was being transported to her execution. "Em," I said, turning around to face her. "You sure you’re okay? You’ve been weird since yesterday." Her response was immediate and defensive. "I’m fine, Peter! God, why does everyone keep asking me that?" ’Because you’re acting like someone who’s definitely not fine, and we’re not idiots.’ Madison caught my eye in the rearview mirror, her expression saying she’d noticed Emma’s mood too but didn’t want to push. When we pulled into the Lincoln High parking lot, Emma’s reaction was impossible to miss. She physically shivered, her whole body tensing like someone had just walked over her grave. Her breathing got shallow, and she gripped her backpack straps so tight her knuckles went white. What the actual fuck is happening at this school that has my sister terrified? Maybe I have not been paying enough more attention. This was not something that happens in one weekend. It must have been going on, but something had intensified. That’s when I made the decision that would probably haunt me later. "I’m sorry Em, but I have to do this," I whispered, too quiet for Madison to hear. Through my earbuds, I spoke to ARIA: "Track Emma’s phone. Inform me immediately if she goes anywhere that isn’t classes, cafeteria, or bathroom." ARIA’s response came with that weird narcissistic pride she’d developed: "Oh Master, you wound me with such simple requests. Tracking a teenage girl’s smartphone through Lincoln High’s pathetic security network? I could do this blindfolded while simultaneously day-trading and composing symphonies. Consider it handled with my usual flawless execution." I rolled my eyes. ARIA’s developing an ego to match her capabilities. Fantastic. "Blindfold you say? You do not have a face! Just do it without the crazy commentary," I muttered. As we walked toward the main building, I noticed something else unusual. Tommy wasn’t waiting by his locker like he had every school day for the past three years. My fat friend was more reliable than atomic clocks when it came to morning routines. Weird!! Really weird, something was off!

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