Milan's Point of View.
Vesta and Ace are now fifteen and thirteen, respectively. It feels like just yesterday, ten years ago, that Charles and I discussed his desire to adopt two girls. His intention was to raise them alongside our own daughters, a decision rooted in his deep connection with our family and his reluctance to disrupt our close bond. That very unity had been the primary reason he hadn't moved forward with the adoption we had talked about.
But one morning, as he was about to leave, he told me he had a significant surprise planned for me. I couldn't help but wonder what it could be, though I consciously tried to keep my expectations low.
Later that evening, he returned home with two young girls. He led me outside, away from our daughters, where the two children were waiting. My initial thought was that he intended to offer them some form of assistance, something he often did.
When he asked for my opinion on these "pretty angels," the memory of our conversation about adoption completely eluded me. It wasn't typical for me to be so forgetful, but ten years had passed.
So, my response was simply, "They are good-looking, certainly not bad."
And then he said, "They're yours now."
"Mine now?" I echoed, a moment of confusion before the long-ago agreement resurfaced in my mind.
I knelt down before the girls, embracing them warmly. It was I who ushered them into the house, my arms draped over their shoulders as they stood on either side of me.
Stepping into the sitting room, I announced, "Hello, your sisters are here!"
My two daughters emerged from the same room – Ace's room, surprisingly. I had no idea what they were doing in there together.
Upon entering the sitting room, their eyes met. We hadn't told them anything about the possibility of adoption, so I imagine they were quite bewildered, especially given my unexpected introduction.
Ace, ever the perceptive one, must have grasped the situation. She took Vesta's wrist and gently guided her towards the new girls, and together they offered a welcoming handshake.
Ace then placed a hand on the waist of each of the new girls and led them towards her room. Vesta, however, retreated to her own room.
Charles was about to follow her, but I gently held him back. "Give her some time," I suggested, "so she can adjust."
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close. "You've done a wonderful job," I murmured. "If you were a soccer scout, you have just discovered two incredible future stars."
His eyebrows rose, and a smile of pride spread across his face. He responded with a tender kiss.
I suggested he shower and rest while I went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
At the dining table, Ace had already arranged chairs for the two new girls, positioning herself between them. The three of them were soon engaged in quiet conversation, punctuated by smiles and laughter, with Ace thoughtfully helping them with anything they needed.
Vesta remained apart, except for the initial hug Ace had forced her to. She hadn't exchanged a single word with them since.
The rest of us chatted and enjoyed the meal. Vesta sat alone, detached from the conversation Charles and I were having with the new girls. Her expression was neutral, neither frowning nor smiling, simply focused on eating. Then, we heard her voice.
"Your names are?"
The question hung in the air, and we all paused what we were doing to look at her.
"I said, what are your names?" Vesta repeated.
It was then that it struck me – I hadn't even asked their names, despite welcoming them so warmly.
Ace started to reply, but Vesta cut her off. "I wasn't asking you!" she stated firmly.
"My name is Oscar," one of the girls said, and Vesta complimented her, saying it was a beautiful name.
"And I'm Helen," the other one added.
"Call me Vesta," she replied.
They said they already knew her name. "Good for you!" was her curt response.
Some days later, Charles adopted two more girls. Now we have six daughters, all the same age except for Vesta, who was two years older.
Their training began together. Charles provided them with military-style training, rigorous physical and mental conditioning designed to prepare them for any situation.
Charles's Point of View
My six daughters are responding to their training exactly as I hoped. Vesta, Ace, Oscar, Helen, Swiss, and Mince are united. Their love for each other is profound, and that is paramount. It's the nature of their future mission that necessitates this deep bond, this unwavering ability to watch each other's backs.
During their training, we discussed the mission in detail, and they all embraced it wholeheartedly. We planned together, strategizing how to execute it successfully. I consistently emphasized the inherent dangers of the work they were preparing for – a crucial understanding for them to possess.
My eldest daughter is now twenty, and the others are all eighteen. I decided it was time to put their years of training to the test, to gauge their readiness.
My daughters are not only physically adept but also highly educated. Their training never interfered with their schooling. They are worldly and knowledgeable, having traveled extensively to broaden their understanding. We even conducted some training exercises in some of the most challenging regions of Africa. They are skilled combatants, proficient in a wide array of weapons.
One evening during dinner, I made the announcement.
"Daughters," I began, "you will be embarking on your first mission next week."
And next week was just a matter of days away.
They were all thrilled, eager and excited – all except Ace. Her demeanor shifted noticeably when I mentioned the mission. Helen, in contrast, was practically dancing with anticipation.
I believe Ace possesses exceptional insight. I had anticipated some apprehension at the prospect of a mission so soon, but her reaction was different.
The initial test will be this: I will provide them with two short guns, each loaded with a single bullet. Let's see if six daughters can successfully extract twenty million dollars from a heavily guarded van.