Chapter 961

Teenage boys always have an exhausting amount of energy. During their school days, some inexplicable trend emerged where the closest friends stopped calling each other by name and instead started claiming to be each other’s fathers.

"I don’t think... I ever did that," Alexander Hamilton mused, searching his memory. All he recalled was people calling him "Alex."

Evelyn Carter paused, then laughed. "Oh right, you went to that elite private school. Those kids probably didn’t play those kinds of games."

Ordinary private schools might resemble public ones, but Alexander’s was different. It catered to the children of the most powerful families, its very architecture exuding an air of exclusivity. Naturally, such down-to-earth antics had no place there. Now, sitting with three old classmates, he felt distinctly out of place.

"Back then, I was entirely focused on my studies," he said smoothly. "My path was already mapped out."

He knew Evelyn too well—knew she admired driven, ambitious people. His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable peacock-like pride in it, as if he were preening for her approval.

In the past, Vivian Dempsey would’ve rolled her eyes. But now, he was the man who’d saved her grandmother. She could only pretend not to notice, turning instead to Victor Laurent. "You can’t even remember my phone number, but you remember this?"

"You were the one who made the bet with me," Victor replied, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"That year, there was a gang of thugs extorting students outside the school," Vivian said, her temper flaring at the memory. "They specifically targeted freshmen. The school sent security patrols, but those cowards hid in alleyways, waiting to ambush kids. Once, they even stole a scholarship from a poor student in our class!"

Her fists clenched. If they weren’t in a restaurant, she would’ve slammed the table.

"Looking back, we didn’t hit them hard enough! Who did they think they were, demanding protection money? Too bad the baseball bats we had were cheap junk."

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "I’ve heard a joke about a country where they sold thousands of baseball bats but only a handful of actual baseballs. You weren’t in that situation, were you?"

Evelyn pressed her lips together, amused. "That night during study hall, Vivian said she was going for a walk. The next day, I found out she’d gone out to fight."

Victor chimed in, "I used the excuse of going to the bathroom. Guess we were on the same wavelength."

"Please!" Vivian scoffed. "You snuck out right after dinner to hide in the equipment room! You even climbed through a window to steal a bat. If you hadn’t prepared in advance, we would’ve had to fight them barehanded! But we still won!"

She was practically glowing as she recounted the story, none of her post-work exhaustion visible. Victor stared at her profile, her baby fat long gone, and for a moment, he was lost in thought.

"There were two of us against over a dozen. We got banged up, but someone called the police, and they arrested the whole gang." Vivian grew more animated as she spoke. "We even got the stolen money back!"

Evelyn sighed. "A broken arm is a minor injury? Thank God it was your left one, or you would’ve fallen behind in your studies."

"Mine was my right arm!" Victor immediately protested.

Vivian shot back, "You’re left-handed. What’s the problem?"

"I’m ambidextrous!" he declared. "I could’ve spun a pen while solving equations. Now, I don’t even have the right study atmosphere."

"Stop inflating your ego—" Vivian launched into a list of his past embarrassments.

Alexander, the outsider, had nothing to contribute. Even Evelyn, who’d been in the same class, could only watch helplessly. She picked up the gilded menu. "If we don’t order soon, the owner’s going to kick us out."

Only then did the two settle down.

Alexander had never been to this restaurant before, but since Victor had gone from being a company director to just an old classmate, he relaxed. "You order first. They don’t seem hungry."

Evelyn was hungry. Pregnancy had made her ravenous. She flipped through the menu decisively. "Orange-glazed ribs. Cream of asparagus soup."

"Last time at the French restaurant, you ordered salmon salad," Alexander remarked offhandedly. "Your tastes change so fast, it’s like you’re carrying twins."

Her fingers twitched, gripping the napkin tighter. "Add a mint salmon salad, then."

The truth about the twins couldn’t stay hidden forever. But lately, she’d been having nightmares—dreams where the little girl she’d lost had taken on a clear form. To ensure this child returned safely, she’d decided to keep the secret until the birth.

Some things were better known by fewer people. Especially Alexander—as the father, they should have shared this burden of guilt together.