Page 3 of Temptation
And it also happens that the two students responsible for my extra hours are also two of my favorites—Maddalina and Flynn Moretti.
The Moretti twins—or theproblem childrenas most of the staff less-than-affectionately refers to them.
Because to most people, including every last teacher, they carry a label tinged with a mix of wariness, disgust, and morbid fascination. But the children themselves? They’re far from problematic—neither more nor less than any other child their age.
Maddalina is a walking ray of sunshine and one of the most cheerful and polite children I’ve ever met. Her twin brother Flynn, who rarely leaves her side, is quieter and more reserved. His reserve sometimes gives way to flashes of temper, but overall, they’re just typical five-year-olds with quirks and moods.
No, the obvious problem doesn’t lie with the twins themselves—it’s their father—their name.
The Moretti name carries a notorious reputation, reaching far beyond the city’s borders, that precedes them, casting a dark shadow over their young lives. It triggers an instant reaction in people—one of fear and prejudice. And it clings to the twins, following them everywhere they go, not because of anything they’ve done, but because of their family’s infamous legacy.
In my opinion, it’s more an instinct than any form of malicious intent. One that hardly anyone is immune to, no matter how hard they try, and I do try.
The moment I started teaching Maddy and Flynn, and came to know these two, I’ve tried to ignore their infamous heritage and see them as what they truly are—innocent children.
But no matter how hard I try to remain neutral, I can’t shake the unease that settles in my stomach whenever their father crosses my mind.
Maybe that’s why I prefer to downplay Flynn’s temper issues rather than reaching out to his father to discuss them. A meeting with him is long overdue, but it’s also one I dread with every fiber of my being.
While I’ve never been particularly fond of gossip and rumors, some of them are too loud, too persistent and sound too much like the truth to ignore.
Involuntarily, a shiver runs down my spine as thoughts of a man I’ve never even met invade my mind.
If the next few months pass without any major incidents, the twins may finish preschool without me ever having to meet one of the city’s most notorious figures.
“Ms. Walsh?” Maddy’s sweet voice pulls me from my dark thoughts about her father and back to reality. “I finished homework. Can I draw now?”
“Of course, you can,” I say, moving from the front of the classroom to her desk and kneeling beside her, watching as she eagerly pulls out crayons and paper from her bag.
Maddy possesses an undeniable talent and a fierce passion for drawing—her creations far surpass the typical scribbles and misshapen shapes of a child her age. “That looks wonderful, sweetheart.”
A barely audible grunt besides us draws my attention. Flynn’s gaze is fixed intently on the paper in front of him. “And what are you working on?” I ask gently.
“Stupid math,” he mutters while his eyes never leave the source of his frustration. Even after two years, his tiny outbursts of anger sometimes catch me off guard.
I shift to face him, softly placing my hand on his back in an attempt to offer comfort. “Math’s not stupid, but sometimeschallenging. But you are smart, so I know you can do this.” Flynn’s face softens ever so slightly at my words. It’s a delicate tightrope I walk with him—providing him with the tad of extra attention he clearly craves while giving him the space he needs to open up bit by bit.
It’s then I hear the first heavy footstep echoing through the hallway and my stomach immediately twists into knots. I hold my breath as I strain to listen while my mind starts racing, involuntarily conjuring images of a man I hoped never to meet.
I am overreacting. This is ridiculous.
The chances of the twins’ father showing up himself are slim to nonexistent. There is no rational reason for me to be nervous. But still, I can’t help the way my heartbeat quickens with every step that’s coming closer.
“I think you’re being picked up, kids. It’s time to pack up your things,” I say, forcing a cheerful smile, trying to sound as if everything’s fine despite the frantic rhythm of my pulse drumming against my throat.
Get a grip, Sienna.
I take a deep breath and push myself back up to my feet. When I turn towards the door, my heart stutters, missing a beat as a dark figure steps into the classroom.
Tall and imposing, dressed in all black.
His intense eyes are the only part of his face that isn’t hidden by a mask. They dart to Maddy and Flynn, who stand frozen beside me, before they lock onto mine. There’s a silent threat in his gaze, in his posture that makes my blood run cold in my veins.
Whoever he is, he isn’t the kids' father, and he certainly isn’t here to pick them up from school.
“C-Can I… help you?” The attempt to disguise the onslaught of panic in my voice fails miserably as I stutter out the words. I take a step to the side, instinctively putting myself between thisstranger and the children, who are standing perfectly still behind me, their eyes fixed on the stranger, but otherwise completely unaffected by his presence. No fear, no surprise. A chill runs down my spine at the realization.
“You can step out of the way.” He gestures casually, his voice smooth and low. But there’s an undercurrent of a threat in his words.
