It had to be some kind of cruel joke.

Twenty years after the hell of Raccoon City, of all the blood and smoke and fire, Leon had finally carved out something resembling a normal life. Peace, even. A quiet house. A good wife. A bright, stubborn son named Nathan with his mother’s eyes and Leon’s unfortunate tendency to brood.

And things were good. Uneventful. The kind of life he’d never dared to imagine he’d live long enough to have.

So when he pulled up to the school that morning, coffee in hand, sunglasses hiding the bags under his eyes, he didn’t expect anything more than the usual awkward silence and a grunted “later” from Nathan before the kid disappeared into the crowd of uniforms and backpacks.

But today, something was different.

Nathan hadn’t moved. He just sat there, gaze fixed on something outside the car, a little too still, too quiet. Not the annoyed quiet he usually wore like armor—but something else.

Leon raised a brow. “Ohhh, what do we have here?” he teased, elbowing the boy gently. “You seein’ ghosts or is there an actual girl out there that finally cracked that ice cube of a heart?”

Nathan groaned, clearly regretting being born. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, low and embarrassed. “Just… a girl. Over there.”

Leon followed his son’s line of sight, eyes flicking casually toward the line of cars behind them. He expected to see some kid with dyed hair and too much eyeliner. What he didn’t expect was for his heart to stop cold in his chest.

A sleek black car had pulled up behind them, pristine and expensive. From the passenger side stepped out a girl—no older than Nathan, but her presence hit Leon like a punch to the gut.

She had her eyes.

Same sharp gaze. Same calm defiance. Same everything.

Leon blinked once. Twice. But it didn’t change what he saw—this girl, this impossible girl, was the spitting image of Ada Wong in her youth. Right down to the confident walk and the tilt of her chin, like she owned whatever ground she stepped on.

No way. It couldn’t be. He hadn’t seen Ada in years—decades. But the resemblance was so uncanny, so haunting, it made his stomach twist. His fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

“Jesus,” he breathed, voice caught between awe and disbelief.

Next to him, Nathan fidgeted nervously, clearly unaware of the storm he’d just stirred.

And Leon could only laugh to himself, dry and bitter.

Apparently, it was some kind of cosmic joke. Some twisted fate written in the stars. A Kennedy was always doomed to fall for a Wong.