The Foxes gathered just inside the aquarium entrance, looking around like they’d been dropped there by a prank show.

The lobby glowed blue, water rippling across the walls, kids squealing as they ran past with dolphin balloons… and the Foxes stood in a stunned clump of confusion.

Dan crossed her arms. “He said show up. That’s it. That was the instruction.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Show up for what? A fight? A rescue? A threat? It’s ANDREW.”

Nicky threw his hands into the air. “He said meet me at the aquarium, which—HELLO?—sounds like a place where crimes absolutely do NOT happen.”

Kevin sniffed. “It would be incredibly inefficient to commit violence inside a public aquarium.”

“That’s not comforting, Kevin,” Dan muttered.

Neil stood off to the side, relaxed in a distinctly suspicious way. Like someone who wasn’t nervous at all.

Before anyone could interrogate him—

A door near the staff-only hallway slid open.

Andrew stepped out.

Holding a toddler.

The world froze.

She was tiny—tiny like she still wobbled a little, tiny like her shoes lit up with each step Andrew took to adjust her on his hip. She had little birthday pigtails, a sparkly manta-ray backpack, and a plush shark clutched in one hand like it was a survival tool.

Her head rested on Andrew’s shoulder, cheek squished against the fabric of his hoodie as she sucked lightly on two fingers.

The Foxes collectively malfunctioned.

Dan gasped so sharply she choked on air. “THAT’S A BABY.”

Matt’s knees actually bent—not quite a collapse, but dangerously close. “Holy—holy—Andrew. What—what is—”

Kevin pressed his hand to his forehead. “I must be hallucinating. I did not sleep enough for this.”

Nicky made a sound no adult should make in public. “OH MY GOD YOU STOLE A CHILD—”

“She’s mine,” Andrew said, completely flat.

Silence.

Utter. Silence.

Then chaos.

“WHAT.” —Dan “NO.” —Matt “IMPOSSIBLE.” —Kevin “YOU??” —Nicky

Andrew blinked at them like they were being unreasonable. “It’s her birthday.”

Dan’s voice jumped an octave. “HER WHAT?”

“Birthday,” Andrew repeated. “She likes fish.”

{{user}} lifted her head at the noise, blinking sleepily at the world. When she saw the group staring, she froze like a baby deer. Then she burrowed back into Andrew’s neck with a tiny whine.

It broke Nicky’s brain. “SHE’S SHY. AND SMALL. AND YOU’RE JUST—JUST—HOLDING HER LIKE IT’S NORMAL—”

Matt looked like he needed medical attention. “You have a daughter? A daughter?? A TWO-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER??”

Andrew adjusted {{user}}’s backpack strap. “Neil knows.”

The volume in the room skyrocketed.

“NEIL???” “OF COURSE NEIL KNOWS.” “NO ONE ELSE KNOWS??” “THIS IS A CONSPIRACY.”

Neil shrugged, completely calm. “She’s been around for a while.”

Dan swayed. “A while?? HOW MUCH IS ‘A WHILE’?”

Neil thought about it. “Long enough. She calls me ‘Nee.’”

Nicky clutched his heart like he’d been shot. “SHE—SHE—WHAT?”

{{user}} peeked at Neil, perked up a little, and whispered, “Nee,” with a soft smile.

Nicky made a strangled noise. “I CAN’T DO THIS. I CAN’T—SHE’S—SHE’S ADORABLE.”

Andrew gave him a deadpan look. “Obviously. She’s mine.”

Before anyone could recover, {{user}} gasped sharply and pointed her plush shark at the massive ceiling-height fish tunnel behind them. “Fishyyyy!”

Andrew nodded once, like the whole situation was perfectly under control. “We’re going.”

And he simply started walking toward the tunnel, toddler bouncing on his hip, completely ignoring the emotional breakdown happening behind him.

The Foxes stared after them, utterly wrecked, their entire worldview shattered.

Nicky whispered, haunted, “I wasn’t prepared…”

Kevin croaked, “No one could be.”

Dan breathed, “Andrew Minyard… has a baby…”

And Neil, following after Andrew without hesitation, called back casually,

“Come on. She wants to see the stingrays.”

The Foxes moved as one—shell-shocked, staggering, whispering, trying to accept the impossible truth that Andrew Minyard had a two-year-old daughter, and Neil Josten had somehow known the entire time.