"Our neighborhood's community center has a tiny reading room," Aiden said, voice steady but low. "It's mostly old pamphlets and faded magazines. I'd like to bring some books over—ones you're not using anymore. Something meaningful. The kind that sparks curiosity in kids who don't always get the chance."
He looked at Victoria Quinn with genuine respect, a quiet warmth in his eyes that revealed something deeper—not just charm, but a real connection to the place he came from. The kind of loyalty you didn't fake.
And for the first time since he walked through the door, something in Victoria shifted.
She had expected tolerance at best. Suffer through the meeting, assess the damage, and move on.
But this?
This tugged at something in her that Aiden couldn't have known—something far older than disapproval or skepticism.
Because if he'd said the books were for himself, she would've shown him the door. Politely, but firmly.
But this wasn't about him.
It was about the kids.
And Victoria Quinn believed in literacy the way some people believed in miracles. She had spent her life shaping educators, advocating for school libraries, pushing curriculum reform—because stories built empathy, and empathy built futures.
Now she looked at this young man and thought, maybe…
Shhft.
Victoria stood abruptly, her movements clipped but not cold. She gestured for Aiden to follow.
"I'll show you the study," she said.
"Yes, ma'am." He rose quickly, his posture crisp and respectful.
From the living room, Valeria blinked. "Wait. That's it?"
She'd been bracing for detonation. Ready to jump in, throw herself between Aiden and her mom's verbal firing squad.
Instead, she watched the two disappear down the hall in something dangerously close to harmony.
What just happened?
No clue.
But she wasn't missing whatever came next.
In the Study
Bookshelves lined every wall, the wood dark with age, the shelves overflowing with knowledge. Some were bowed under the weight of volumes stacked two deep. There were boxes, too—neatly labeled in Victoria's meticulous cursive. The air smelled like leather bindings, old paper, and quiet judgment.
Aiden paused at the doorway.
"...These are all yours?"
Victoria nodded once. "Every one."
He stepped inside and picked up a slim hardcover. Between its pages: annotated notes, color-coded in multiple inks. Not for aesthetics. For reanalysis.
This wasn't just a personal library.
It was a living archive.
Victoria watched him silently, gauging his expression.
Then, with no fanfare at all, she said, "Take what you need."
Aiden blinked. "Excuse me?"
From the hallway, Valeria gasped. "Mom? Are you serious? You've been building that collection since I was in diapers."
Victoria ran her hand along the spine of a battered volume, her voice quieter now, thoughtful.
"I've learned what I needed from them. Letting them sit here, untouched? That's not scholarship. That's ego. If they can still be of use… let them be."
Before anyone could reply, Leo—Valeria's younger brother—came storming in like a small tornado of entitlement and opinions.
"Hold up," he barked. "These are antiques, Mom. Some of them are worth thousands. You could sell them and take an actual vacation for once! Or, you know, help me launch my app!"
Victoria's eyes went arctic. "We do not sell books in this house, Leo. You know that."
Leo winced, remembering the last time he tried unloading some of her books online. He hadn't sat comfortably for a week.
"But you just said you don't want them!"
Victoria's tone didn't rise—but the chill deepened. "I'd rather donate them to a street library than put them in your hands."
Leo pointed at Aiden. "And him? You trust him? He probably heard about the collection from Val and cooked up some bleeding-heart story about inner-city kids."
Aiden opened his mouth—but Valeria was faster.
"Watch it," she snapped, stepping between them. "He's your brother-in-law now. Maybe try acting like it."
Leo's lip curled. "Says who? You married him in secret. And what's he done to earn that title—brought you breakfast and sweet-talked Mom into parting with her life's work?"
"I married him because I wanted to," Valeria fired back. "Not because he manipulated me."
Leo scoffed. "That's what smart guys do. Make you think it was your idea."
Valeria took one step forward. "Go to your room."
"What?! I'm trying to protect—"
"I said go. And your allowance? Gone."
Leo looked between them, stunned. "You can't—"
"Try me."
He stared for one more dramatic beat. Then turned, muttering as he left, "This guy's a grifter. You'll see."
SLAM.
The silence afterward was awkward but strangely satisfying.
Valeria turned back toward Aiden with a small grimace. "Sorry. He's… going through a phase."
Aiden gave her a soft smile. "He's just loud. I've seen worse."
Though in his head?
He was already imagining Leo's face in a Craigslist ad captioned: 'Free to any home with noise-canceling headphones. Slightly used.'
Then Aiden turned back to Victoria.
"Actually," he said gently, "I think I've made a mistake."
Victoria tilted her head.
"These books—this is your research archive. Way beyond anything I was asking for. I meant the paperbacks collecting dust. The ones you might be ready to part with. These... these belong in special collections. Not a community center with a leaky roof."
Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Are you backpedaling?"
"No, ma'am. Just being honest. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to them. If you'd rather recommend a few titles, I'll find used copies. I just thought... you'd know better than anyone what deserves a second life."
That made her pause.
The humidity. The exposure. Kids flipping fragile pages with sticky fingers.
He understood the risk.
And more importantly—he respected it.
She took a long look at him, silent as a judge. Then, slowly… a smile.
Barely there. But real.
Not because he'd impressed her.
Because he'd understood her.
"Check the shelves in the guest room," she said finally. "There are some novels I've been meaning to donate."
Aiden nodded with gratitude. "Thank you."
She turned to leave—but paused in the doorway.
"Aiden?"
"Yes?"
"You're still on probation."
A small grin tugged at his lips. "Of course."
And that was when Valeria knew—
He'd passed.
Not with flying colors.
But enough to survive the final boss.
For now.