Chapter 5 - The Gates of St. Jude’s AcademyFour years later, the wrought-iron gates of St. Jude’s Preparatory Academy stood tall against the crisp autumn breeze.
A sleek black sedan pulled up to the front entrance, and the rear door opened. A fifteen-year-old boy stepped out. He was dressed in a crisp navy blazer, tailored gray slacks, and a school tie that he adjusted with practiced ease. His hair was neat, his sneakers were clean leather, and under his arm he carried a heavy, leather-bound textbook on advanced cellular biology.
Milo Haddock had changed, but not entirely.
The quiet focus in his dark eyes remained unchanged. The relentless drive that had kept him reading under a concrete bridge was now fueled by state-of-the-art laboratories, university-level mentors, and unlimited access to the finest medical library in the state. He wasn't just surviving anymore; he was excelling. He had skipped two grade levels in science and was already auditing freshman-level anatomy classes at the neighboring university downtown.
As he walked up the stone steps of the academy, a silver SUV pulled up beside him. The passenger window rolled down, revealing the bright, giggling face of an eight-year-old girl with dark curls and a gap-toothed smile.
"Milo! You dropped your lab notebook!"
It was Lily. Thanks to Nathaniel Kirkwood’s private investigators, Milo had been reunited with his sister two years ago. She now lived in a bright, sunny apartment across town with a loving guardian family vetted personally by Nathaniel, and she visited Milo every weekend.
Milo walked over to the car, smiling—a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. He reached out and tapped Lily’s nose. "Thanks, squirt. Go on inside before you're late for your math quiz."
"See you Saturday!" Lily chirped as the car drove off toward the middle school campus.
Milo turned and continued up the steps, but as he reached the heavy oak doors of the main hall, his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. He pulled it out.
It was a text message from an unsaved number, but he knew the caller ID by heart.
“Lecture at the university medical center starts at 4:00 PM today. Third row reserved for you. Let’s grab dinner after. – N.”
Nathaniel Kirkwood had become more than just a benefactor. Over the past four years, as little Leo grew into a healthy, energetic toddler running around the Kirkwood estate, Nathaniel had stepped into Milo’s life as a steady, grounding presence—not replacing his past, but anchoring his future. They met every Thursday for dinner, discussing everything from global markets to the latest breakthroughs in CRISPR gene-editing technology.
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Milo typed back a quick reply: “I’ll be there. Don't start without me.”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, pushed open the heavy oak doors, and stepped inside.
