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The bell above the office door rattled violently in its housing as Eva kicked the heavy frame open. She dropped neither her keys nor her canvas backpack, marching straight past the pool table with her jaw set under her white bangs. She aimed directly for the couch.
Nero sat there with a grease-stained towel, focused on cleaning the cylinder of his revolver.
"Nero," Eva said, her voice dropping flat. "Put the stuff down. You need to hear about the absolute garbage I had to listen to in science class today."
Nero didn't look up, his thumb running a cleaning rod down the barrel. "If this is about the frogs again, Eva, I don't care how they breathe. Tell your mom."
"It's not about frogs, idiot. It's about us," she snapped, slamming her thick biology textbook flat onto the coffee table. "We're doing genetics. Punnett squares. Chromosomes. Do you know what identical twins actually are from a molecular standpoint?"
Across the room, Dante was lounging in his desk chair, his boots propped near the edge of the desk. You were leaning against the armrest beside him, half-listening while trying to sort through a stack of late water bills. Dante had one arm hooked loosely around your waist, his thumb idly tracing the hem of your shirt while he tossed a spare coin into the air with his other hand.
"Yeah, a massive headache," Dante called out, catching the coin with a sharp click of his palm. "What's the public school system teaching you now, kiddo?"
"It's teaching me that you and Uncle Vergil are a genetic anomaly," Eva said, fixing a kohl-lined stare on her father. "Identical twins share one hundred percent of the same DNA. You came from the same split egg. In the eyes of a laboratory test, you two are the exact same biological entity. You’re clones."
Nero paused, his fingers freezing against the metal frame of his gun. He looked up, his brow furrowing. "Okay. Your dad and my dad are clones. Great. Tell me something that doesn't make me want to bleach my brain."
"Think about the math, Nero," Eva insisted, leaning over the table, her mullet falling into her eyes as a malicious grin touched her lips. "Because their DNA is a perfect match, when they have kids with different women, those kids don't carry the genetic weight of first cousins. To a lab, we share twenty-five percent of our code. That is the exact marker for half-siblings. In a real, scientific way? You're my brother."
The room went silent. The small screw Nero was holding slipped, bouncing against the leather cushion before falling into the gap. He stared at her like she’d just spoken a curse.
Dante let out a scoffing grunt, shifting his weight to pull you closer against his side. "Yeah, right. Nice try. I like the kid, but there is no way in hell I'm sharing a genetic lease with Nero."
"I'm not making it up, old man!" Eva yelled. She grabbed the textbook and hurled it straight across the office.
Dante didn't even drop his feet. He reached up his free hand and caught the book flat against his palm with a heavy slap, blinking through his bangs.
"Chapter four! Page thirty-three!" Eva shouted, pointing a finger. "Read it and weep, Dad! It's a scientific fact! Nero is my half-brother, which means genetically, you are his second dad!"
Dante scoffed again, tossing the book onto the desk. He looked up at you, his smirk firmly in place. "Tell her she's crazy, babe. Tell her that's not how it works."
You looked down at the open page of the textbook, then back up at your husband’s face. You let let out a heavy sigh, dropping the water bills onto the wood. "Actually, Dante... she’s right."
Dante’s smirk slipped. His boots came off the desk, hitting the floor with a solid thud. "What?"
"She's right," you said, crossing your arms. "Biologically, children of identical twins are genetic half-siblings. The DNA pool doesn't know the difference between you and Vergil. From a chromosomal perspective, you're his second dad."
Nero slowly dropped his forehead into his hand, a miserable groan escaping his chest. "Please stop. Someone make her stop talking."
Dante sat perfectly still, his brain stalling out as the science broke through. He looked at you, then slowly turned his head toward Nero.
The horror held for five seconds before his eyes lit with a wicked glint. A slow, smug smile spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, slinging his arm around the back of his head, his voice dropping into a dramatic drawl.
"Well, well, well," Dante chuckled, his blue eyes dancing with mischief as he stared dead at Nero. "You hear that, son? Looks like you owe me some respect around here. Go fetch your old man a strawberry sundae."
"I will put you through the wall, Dante," Nero hissed, his face turning a deep red as he snatched his cleaning rag back off the table. "I swear to God, I will dismantle this entire office."
Eva watched the meltdown, satisfied with the chaos she’d manufactured. She snatched her backpack, gave you a quick nod, and headed toward the stairs. "I'm going to do my homework. Have fun with your new kid, Dad."