Chapter 60 — Keren and ShillaThe South Side never offered invitations without a reason.
Luke knew that the moment Keren Gallagher—no relation, no trust—leaned against the fence outside the schoolyard and said his name like it was already familiar.
"Lip, right?"
Luke adjusted his backpack. "Depends who's asking."
She smiled. Sharp. Curious. Not flirting—measuring.
"Keren," she said. "You're smart. Like, actually smart. My place is empty till dinner. You wanna come over?"
It wasn't a question.
It was an evaluation.
Reading KerenLuke walked beside her, eyes forward, mind active.
Keren moved with confidence but not ease. The kind learned early, reinforced often. Defensive charm. Fast jokes. Emotional misdirection.
She wasn't dangerous.
But she was volatile.
Luke catalogued it quietly.
Attraction used as leverage. Validation used as currency. Fear of abandonment disguised as control.
He followed anyway.
Information required proximity.
The House on the BlockKeren's place looked cleaner than most on the street. Not richer—just maintained.
Inside, her mother wasn't home.
Shilla Gallagher.
That absence mattered.
Luke noted the quiet immediately.
No shouting.
No crashing.
No chaos.
A controlled environment.
Too controlled.
First Glimpse of ShillaShilla arrived an hour later.
He heard her before he saw her—keys placed carefully, heels aligned by the door.
When she entered the room, Luke stood automatically.
She froze for half a second.
Then smiled.
"Hello," she said, voice smooth, practiced. "You must be Lip."
Luke nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Her eyes lingered—not predatory, but analytical.
She was composed. Groomed. Emotionally distant in a way that came from long practice, not coldness.
Luke activated the Emotion Regulator subtly.
Not to suppress feeling.
To observe without distortion.
Shilla, Under the SurfaceShe offered coffee.
He declined politely.
She asked about school.
He answered modestly.
Every word was a test.
Luke passed by being unremarkable.
Inside, he mapped her profile.
Shilla Gallagher.
Ambitious. Unfulfilled. Trapped in a marriage that rewarded status over connection. Drawn to intelligence because it threatened nothing—until it did.
She wasn't hunting.
She was lonely.
And dangerous because of it.
Getting Close, SafelyLuke never flirted.
He asked questions.
About books.
About art.
About why she stopped painting after college.
Her guard slipped—not all at once, but enough.
Keren watched from the doorway, arms crossed, sensing something but not understanding it.
Luke smiled gently at Shilla.
"You should start again," he said. "People don't stop being who they are. They just forget."
Shilla inhaled sharply.
That landed deeper than intended.
The BalanceWhen Luke left, Shilla thanked him.
Not for coming.
For listening.
Outside, Luke paused at the corner.
He hadn't crossed any line.
But he'd stepped onto a fault line.
Keren was a catalyst.
Shilla was a storm waiting for permission.
Luke exhaled slowly.
This world doesn't just punish mistakes, he thought.
It punishes misunderstandings.
He would need precision here.
More than money.
More than intelligence.
Control.
And restraint.