Chapter 11 - The First Bell
The iron gates of St. Jude Academy swung open with a heavy, hydraulic hiss that echoed against the ivy-covered brick walls.
Vincent’s black sedan pulled up directly to the main steps, ignoring the designated drop-off zone where other parents were idling their luxury SUVs. Two private security guards, hired directly from Vincent’s network, immediately stepped out of the vehicle's flanks, their sharp eyes scanning the manicured lawns and the群 of children laughing by the fountain.
"You don't need bodyguards for recess, Dad," Leo muttered, clutching the strap of his leather bag as the car door opened.
"Safety is not an option, it's a protocol," Vincent said smoothly, stepping out into the crisp morning air and offering his hand to the boy.
As they walked up the stone steps, a woman in a sharp navy skirt suit came rushing out of the double oak doors, her clipboard clutched against her chest. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her expression was a mix of corporate hospitality and academic stiffness.
"Mr. Crowe? Welcome to St. Jude," she said, extending a hand. "I am Principal Henderson—no relation to the district official, I assure you."
Vincent shook her hand once, his grip firm enough to make her wince slightly before she recovered her professional smile. "My son's tuition has been paid in full for the next twelve years, Principal. If there are any issues with security, or if anyone asks questions that aren't on the standard enrollment form, you call this direct number." He handed her a heavy, gold-engraved business card with no company name, only a single seven-digit extension.
Principal Henderson glanced at the card, swallowed hard, and nodded briskly. "Of course, Mr. Crowe. We pride ourselves on discretion here. Leo is in Mrs. Gable’s first-grade class. Room 104."
Vincent walked Leo all the way down the polished hallway, past rows of gleaming oak lockers and framed photographs of former senators and corporate titans who had graduated from the academy. When they reached the door of Room 104, a dozen children were already seated at small wooden desks, coloring with crayons and shouting across the room.
Leo stopped at the threshold, his small fingers tightening around Vincent's coat.
"Go on," Vincent said, his voice dropping into that warm, steady tone reserved only for him. "Show them how an ordinary boy takes over a room."
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Leo took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped across the line. He didn't look back until he reached his desk near the window, where he turned, flashed a bright, gap-toothed smile, and gave a quick wave.
Vincent stood in the doorway for three long seconds, watching the boy unpack his colored pencils with absolute precision. Then, he turned on his heel and walked out, his mind already shifting back to the network, the docks, and the city waiting below.
