Chapter 6 Full Family Nuclear, Fairytale Ending

# Chapter 6: Full Family Nuclear, Fairytale Ending

I'd never imagined that "Take Your Daughter to Work Day" would involve a full-scale siege against my brother's mercenary army, but life with Luna had always defied conventional parenting milestones.

"Stay low and follow me," Marsh instructed as we moved through emergency stairwells, Luna between us like a precious package. The building's alarms blared, emergency lights casting everything in an eerie red glow.

"The security hub is three levels down," he continued. "From there we can monitor Thomas's movements and coordinate our defense."

"Or we could just leave," I suggested. "We have escape protocols for a reason."

"Running isn't an option anymore," Marsh replied grimly. "Your brother has resources across the country. This ends tonight."

Luna tugged at my tactical vest. "Mommy, I'm not scared anymore. My tummy is all better."

I stroked her hair absently, my mind racing through scenarios, calculating risks. "That's good, baby. But we still need to be careful."

The radio at Marsh's hip crackled. "Sir, we've got hostiles on levels thirty through thirty-five. They're using our own security passes."

"Claudia's work," Marsh muttered. "Lock down all elevators. Initiate Protocol Omega."

"What's Protocol Omega?" I asked as we continued our descent.

"It seals the building into security quadrants. Each section operates independently, requiring separate breach protocols. It'll slow them down."

"For how long?"

"Long enough for our counterattack."

We reached the security hub—a windowless room filled with monitors showing every corner of the building. Marsh's security team stood at attention as we entered, their expressions grim but determined.

"Status report," Marsh demanded.

"Thomas Armitage is personally leading the assault," reported a heavyset man with military bearing. "He has approximately thirty men, all ex-special forces. They're clearing floor by floor but meeting heavy resistance from our security teams."

"And our response?"

"Ready on your command, sir. The packages are in position."

Marsh nodded, satisfied. "Jocelyn, Luna, come here." He led us to a central monitor displaying building schematics. "Thomas expects me to retreat to one of my safe rooms. Instead, we're going to spring a trap. These red dots indicate explosive charges placed at strategic points throughout the building."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You've rigged your own headquarters to explode?"

"I've rigged every property I own to explode," he corrected matter-of-factly. "Standard precaution."

Luna studied the schematics with disturbing intensity for a five-year-old. "The charges are on structural weak points," she observed. "Like dominos."

Marsh smiled proudly. "Exactly, princess. One triggers the next in sequence."

"We can't just blow up a building in the middle of downtown," I protested. "The collateral damage—"

"Is accounted for," Marsh interrupted. "The surrounding buildings are evacuated during non-business hours as part of standard security protocols. It's 2 AM on a Sunday. Casualties will be limited to Thomas's men."

"And some of yours," I pointed out.

His expression hardened. "They knew the risks when they signed on."

Luna tugged at his sleeve. "Can I help, Daddy? I'm good at making things go boom."

The pride in Marsh's eyes should have disturbed me more than it did. "As a matter of fact, princess, I have a special job just for you."

He led us to what looked like a child's toy—a remote-controlled car painted pink and purple. But as he opened its chassis, I saw it was anything but a toy.

"This is a delivery system for C4," Marsh explained to Luna, whose eyes widened with delight. "It can be controlled from this tablet. Your job is to drive it to this service corridor on level thirty-two, where Thomas's men have established their command post."

"Alexander," I hissed, grabbing his arm. "You cannot be serious. She's five years old!"

"She's a Marsh," he replied simply. "And an Armitage. This is her birthright."

Before I could argue further, Luna had already taken the tablet, her small fingers moving confidently across the screen as she familiarized herself with the controls.

"It's just like my racing game," she said, testing the car's movements on the floor of the security hub. "But more fun."

Marsh turned to his security chief. "Prepare the sniper positions. Jocelyn will take the east quadrant."

"Excuse me?" I stared at him. "I'm staying with Luna."

"Luna will be perfectly safe here. I need you in position to eliminate anyone who makes it past our primary defenses."

"And where will you be?"

His smile was cold and predatory. "Greeting my brother-in-law personally."

Despite my protests, the plan moved forward. Luna remained in the security hub, protected by Marsh's most trusted guards, while I was escorted to a sniper's perch overlooking the main approach to the executive floors. Through my earpiece, I could hear Luna chattering excitedly as she navigated her explosive-laden toy car through the building's air ducts and service corridors.

"I see bad men, Mommy!" her voice came through clearly. "They have big guns like in Daddy's picture books."

"Stay focused, princess," Marsh replied, his voice steady despite the sounds of gunfire in the background. "Remember the path we showed you."

I adjusted my rifle, scanning the stairwell below through the scope. "This is insane, Marsh. She's a child, not a weapon."

"She's both," came his blunt reply. "Just like you were at her age. Or did you forget your father taking you on 'hunting trips' that somehow always involved eliminating business rivals?"

The accusation stung because it contained a kernel of truth. My father had started my weapons training early, disguising assassinations as survival lessons. By ten, I could disassemble any firearm blindfolded. By fifteen, I had my first confirmed kill—a "self-defense situation" that had been carefully orchestrated.

"That was different," I muttered, knowing it wasn't.

"Target acquired," Luna announced proudly. "The car is in position, Daddy!"

"Excellent work, princess. Now, remember what we practiced? The red button initiates the countdown."

"Ten seconds to boom!" she confirmed.

I held my breath, watching through my scope as a group of armed men converged on what must be Thomas's command post. One of them—a tall figure with familiar posture—bent to examine something on the floor.

The explosion was precisely controlled, destroying that section of the building while leaving the structural integrity intact. Through my earpiece, I heard Luna's delighted laugh.

"Direct hit!" Marsh confirmed. "That's my girl!"

Pride and horror warred within me as I watched the devastation my daughter had just caused. The tactical part of my brain noted the efficiency of the explosion—perfect placement, minimal collateral damage. The mother in me wondered what this moment was doing to her psyche.

"Jocelyn, movement on your three o'clock," Marsh warned.

I swiveled, spotting three men attempting to ascend the stairwell to my position. Three shots, three bodies. Clean and efficient.

"Clear," I reported, already moving to my secondary position as protocol dictated.

"Luna, return to the main screen," Marsh instructed. "Your mother needs overwatch."

My earpiece crackled as Luna's voice came through, suddenly serious. "Mommy, there's a man coming up behind you! Red door!"

I spun just as the door burst open, revealing a masked assailant. My rifle was useless at such close range. I dropped it, drawing my sidearm in one fluid motion, but the attacker was faster, knocking the gun from my hand and tackling me to the ground.

We grappled briefly before I managed to reach the knife in my boot, driving it into his thigh. He howled, loosening his grip enough for me to break free. A quick strike to his throat, another to his temple, and he collapsed.

"Thanks for the warning, Luna," I gasped, retrieving my weapons.

"You're welcome, Mommy! Daddy taught me to watch the blind spots."

"Jocelyn," Marsh's voice was tense. "Thomas is heading for the security hub. He must have realized Luna is there."

My blood ran cold. "I'm on my way."

"Negative. He's got too many men between you and Luna. Take the east shaft to the executive level. Cut him off there."

I wanted to argue, to run directly to my daughter, but Marsh was right. The tactical approach was our best option for keeping Luna safe.

"Luna, listen to me," I said as I moved swiftly through the building. "If anyone except Daddy or me tries to enter the security hub, you hide. Remember our special game?"

"The invisible girl game," she replied confidently. "I'm really good at it, Mommy."

"That's right, baby. Be invisible until we come for you."

I reached the executive level just as gunfire erupted from the corridor leading to the security hub. Through the glass walls of a conference room, I could see Marsh engaged in a firefight with several attackers. He moved with lethal grace, each shot finding its mark despite being outnumbered.

I flanked the attackers, eliminating two before they realized I was there. Marsh dispatched the others, and our eyes met across the corpse-strewn hallway.

"Thomas?" I asked.

"Still moving toward Luna. These were just his advance team."

We proceeded together, covering each other with the seamless coordination of two people trained in combat since childhood. It should have felt strange, fighting alongside the man I'd spent years plotting against, but instead, it felt disturbingly natural.

When we reached the security hub, the door was ajar—a bad sign. Inside, Marsh's guards lay dead, and there was no sign of Luna.

"Luna!" I called, panic rising in my throat. "Baby, where are you?"

"She's playing her invisible game, I presume," came a smooth, familiar voice from behind us. "Always was a clever little thing."

We turned slowly to find Thomas Armitage—my brother, supposedly five years dead—standing in the doorway, a gun trained casually on us. He looked older, harder, with a scar bisecting one eyebrow that hadn't been there before, but his smile was just as I remembered—charming and utterly devoid of warmth.

"Hello, sister dear," he said. "And Alexander. What a charming domestic arrangement you two have created. The notorious crime lord and the vengeful heiress, raising a child together. It's almost heartwarming."

"Where is she?" I demanded.

Thomas shrugged. "Not here, obviously. Your little prodigy is quite resourceful. Disappeared into the ventilation system the moment my men breached the door." His smile widened. "But don't worry, I have people searching. Children can only hide for so long."

Marsh stepped forward, his expression murderous. "You've made a critical error, Thomas. You should have brought more men."

"Quality over quantity, Alexander. Your father taught us both that lesson." Thomas kept his gun steady. "Besides, I don't need to kill you. I just need to negotiate."

"There's nothing to negotiate," I spat. "You murdered our parents."

"A necessary sacrifice for the greater good of the family legacy," Thomas replied without a hint of remorse. "Father was becoming weak, making deals with the Marshes instead of absorbing them. Mother was encouraging him. They needed to be removed."

"And now you want Luna," Marsh said coldly.

"The child represents the perfect fusion of our family lines. Under my guidance, she could unite what remains of both empires." Thomas's eyes gleamed with ambition. "She has so much potential—your tactical genius, Jocelyn's technical brilliance, and my vision."

"You mean your psychopathy," I corrected.

Thomas laughed. "Such hostility from the woman who stole genetic material to create a designer baby. We're not so different, sister."

"We're nothing alike," I growled. "I love Luna. She's not a pawn to me."

"Love is a chemical reaction designed to ensure the propagation of genetic material," Thomas dismissed. "But enough philosophy. Here's my offer: give me shared custody of the child, and I'll allow you both to live. Resist, and, well..." He gestured to the bodies of Marsh's guards. "You see the results."

Marsh and I exchanged glances—a silent communication passing between us. Without words, we reached an understanding. Whatever our past, whatever complications lay between us, we were united in this: Thomas would never touch our daughter.

"You know," Marsh said conversationally, "your sister and I haven't agreed on much over the years. But we're absolutely aligned on how this ends for you."

Before Thomas could respond, a small voice came through the room's intercom system.

"Mommy? Daddy? I found the big computer room like in the movies!"

Thomas's head jerked toward the sound. "Clever girl. She's in the server room."

"Luna, stay where you are," I called out. "We're coming to get you."

"Okay, but hurry! I found lots of toys in here. Some have timers on them!"

My heart stopped. The server room—where Marsh kept his most sensitive data—would certainly be rigged with explosives as a last resort.

Thomas's smile faltered for the first time. "She's bluffing. A child can't access military-grade explosive systems."

"You clearly don't know my daughter," Marsh replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "She disassembled her first detonator at three."

"I'm pressing the buttons!" Luna announced cheerfully. "They make pretty lights!"

Thomas's composure cracked. "Stop her!"

"Why?" I asked, moving subtly to block his exit. "You said it yourself—she has so much potential. Let's see what she can do."

"Ten!" Luna's voice counted down. "Nine! Eight!"

Thomas raised his gun, panic replacing calculation. "Tell her to stop or I'll shoot you both right now!"

"Seven! Six! Five!"

"Luna, sweetheart," Marsh called calmly. "Make sure you're in the blast-proof cabinet before you reach zero."

"Already am, Daddy! Four! Three!"

Thomas fired wildly, the bullet grazing my shoulder as Marsh tackled him. They crashed to the floor, fighting for control of the weapon.

"Two! One!"

The explosion rocked the building, but it wasn't from the server room. Instead, the floor beneath Thomas erupted, sending him crashing through to the level below. Marsh had barely rolled clear in time.

Luna's giggles came through the intercom. "Just kidding! I didn't touch the real bombs. I found the building controls and made the floor go boom where the bad man was standing!"

Marsh and I raced to the server room, finding Luna exactly where she said she'd be—safely ensconced in a reinforced cabinet, surrounded by blinking servers and, yes, several explosive devices she had wisely left untouched.

"Daddy!" she launched herself into Marsh's arms. "Did I do it right? Did I help fight the bad men?"

"You were perfect, princess," he assured her, checking her for injuries. "Absolutely perfect."

I joined their embrace, relief making my knees weak. "Luna, how did you know which section of floor to target?"

She pointed to a security monitor. "I watched where you were standing on the cameras and calculated the structural weak point. Like Daddy taught me with the dominos!"

Over her head, Marsh and I shared a look—equal parts pride and terror at what our daughter was capable of.

We made our way to the lower level, where Thomas lay amid the rubble, his legs crushed beneath a fallen support beam. Despite his injuries, he laughed when he saw us.

"The famous Marsh-Armitage alliance, finally realized," he wheezed. "Not how Father or Elias imagined it, I'm sure."

I kept Luna behind me, shielding her from the sight of her broken uncle. "It's over, Thomas."

"Is it?" He coughed, blood speckling his lips. "You think you've won? That you can raise her to be normal after this? Look at her, Jocelyn. She just executed her first tactical strike at five years old. She's exactly what I wanted her to be."

"No," Marsh said firmly. "She's more than that. She's ours."

Thomas's eyes found Luna peering around my leg. "Hello, niece. You're everything I hoped you'd be. So much potential."

Luna regarded him with unnerving calm. "You're the bad man who hurt Grandma and Grandpa. And you tried to hurt my mommy and daddy."

"I'm family," Thomas replied. "Blood of your blood. Remember that when you're older."

"Family doesn't hurt family," Luna declared with the absolute certainty only a child could muster. Then she turned to Marsh. "Can we go home now, Daddy? This place is all broken."

Marsh lifted her into his arms. "Yes, princess. Let's go home."

"What about him?" I nodded toward Thomas.

"My security team will ensure he receives appropriate medical attention," Marsh said formally. "In a facility where he can never threaten our family again."

As we walked away, leaving Thomas surrounded by Marsh's men, I felt a chapter closing. The revenge I'd sought for five years had transformed into something entirely different—a strange, unexpected family forged in chaos.

Outside, dawn was breaking over the city. Emergency vehicles surrounded the building, responding to the controlled destruction we'd wrought. Luna had fallen asleep against Marsh's shoulder, exhausted by her night of heroics.

"We need to talk about her," I said quietly as we approached Marsh's waiting car. "About what happens next."

"Yes," he agreed. "But not here."

We drove in silence to another of Marsh's properties—this one a simple lakeside house far from the city. As we carried Luna inside and tucked her into a bed in a room that was clearly designed for a child, I wondered how long he'd had this place prepared.

In the kitchen, Marsh poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to me. "To surviving."

I accepted the drink but didn't toast. "She can't keep living like this, Alexander. Tonight was... it was too much. She's still a child, no matter how brilliant or capable."

"I know." He surprised me with his immediate agreement. "What happened tonight only reinforced that. She needs stability, security."

"And as long as she's recognized as your heir, she'll never have that. There will always be another Thomas, another threat."

Marsh studied his drink. "What are you proposing?"

"A clean break. New identities, a normal life somewhere far from all this." I gestured to encompass his empire, the violence we'd just survived. "A chance for Luna to be a child before she has to be a Marsh or an Armitage."

He was silent for a long moment. "And where do I fit into this normal life?"

The question hung between us, loaded with implications. Five years ago, I'd stolen his DNA to create a weapon against him. Now, I was contemplating a future where he might be part of our family.

"That depends," I said carefully. "On what you want."

Marsh set down his glass and approached me slowly, giving me time to retreat if I chose. I held my ground as he reached for my hand, turning it palm up.

"I want," he said quietly, "what's best for Luna. And for you."

He pressed a gun into my open palm—my own weapon, the one I'd lost during the fight. My fingers closed around it automatically.

"If you want to take Luna and disappear, I won't stop you," he continued. "I have the resources to ensure you're never found, by anyone. You'd be truly free."

I stared at the gun, then at him, understanding the choice he was offering. "And the alternative?"

"Stay. Build something new—something neither of our families could have imagined. Not an empire of destruction, but a legacy Luna can be proud of."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It's not." His eyes held mine, unflinching. "Nothing about us has ever been simple, Jocelyn. But Luna deserves parents who can work together, whether that's across the world from each other or under the same roof."

I raised the gun, pointing it directly at his heart. He didn't flinch, didn't move to stop me.

"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked. "After everything?"

"You don't," he admitted. "Just as I don't know if I can trust you not to disappear with my daughter tomorrow. Trust requires a leap of faith."

I tightened my finger on the trigger. "And if I pull this trigger instead?"

"Then Luna loses her father," he said simply. "And you'll have to decide what story to tell her when she's old enough to ask."

My hand wavered. I thought of Luna's face lighting up when Marsh knelt to help with her shoes. The way she'd called him "Daddy" without hesitation. The pride in her eyes when she'd helped us defeat Thomas.

The gun clicked—empty—as I pulled the trigger.

Marsh didn't react beyond a slight raise of his eyebrow. "Testing a theory?"

"Making a point," I corrected, lowering the weapon. "You knew it was unloaded."

"I hoped it was," he admitted. "But I meant what I said. The choice is yours, Jocelyn."

I set the gun on the counter between us. "Luna needs stability. Normal childhood experiences. No more explosions or gunfights or using her as a tactical asset."

"Agreed."

"And us?" I asked, the question somehow both enormous and inevitable.

Marsh's hand covered mine, warm and surprisingly gentle for a man who had orchestrated so much violence. "One day at a time. Partners in raising our daughter, and whatever else develops... develops."

"Wedding or funeral?" I asked, recalling his ultimatum from what felt like a lifetime ago.

His smile was slow, genuine in a way I rarely saw. "Your choice."

Five years later, on a warm summer afternoon, Luna stood in the center of our lakeside home's great room, hosting what Marsh insisted on calling her siblings' "First Selection Ceremony." In most families, this would be called a "first birthday party," but we had never been most families.

Twin toddlers—a boy and girl with my curls and Marsh's ice-blue eyes—sat surrounded by objects representing different life paths: a miniature grenade (deactivated, after extensive negotiation between Marsh and me), a sniper scope, a medical kit, a law book, and, most controversially, the Marsh family's accounting ledger.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Luna announced to the gathered audience of trusted family friends (and heavily vetted security personnel), "welcome to the most important decision of Elias and Arianna's lives!"

At ten years old, Luna had grown into a poised, frighteningly intelligent girl who divided her time between accelerated academic studies, martial arts training, and what Marsh called "practical life skills" (which I still monitored closely to ensure they remained age-appropriate).

"The objects they choose will determine their futures," she continued solemnly. "So choose wisely, munchkins!"

The twins looked at each other with identical mischievous grins before crawling in opposite directions—Elias toward the medical kit, Arianna straight for the grenade.

Marsh chuckled beside me, his arm draped casually around my shoulders. "She takes her role as big sister very seriously."

"Too seriously," I agreed, leaning into him slightly. "I found her teaching them to pick locks yesterday."

"That was your department, not mine," he protested. "I specialize in strategic thinking, not B&E."

I jabbed him playfully in the ribs. "Your daughter, your responsibility when she's corrupting the twins."

"Our daughter," he corrected, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Our responsibility."

Our relationship had evolved slowly over the five years since that night in the kitchen. Partners in parenting first, then friends, then lovers, and finally, after Luna's persistent campaigning ("Families should have the same last name, Mommy!"), husband and wife in a small ceremony by the lake.

The transition from enemies to co-parents to partners hadn't been smooth. We still argued—passionately—about everything from security protocols to bedtime stories. But we'd found a balance that worked, a shared vision of giving our children the stability neither of us had experienced.

Marsh still ran his organization, though he'd shifted significant resources to legitimate businesses. I'd returned to weapons design, focusing on defensive systems rather than the offensive technology my family had specialized in.

And Luna—our brilliant, terrifying firstborn—was growing into someone who understood both her heritage and her choices. She knew edited versions of how she came to be, of the conflict between her parents, of her uncle's betrayal. She would learn the full truth when she was older, but for now, she knew enough to understand that family was complicated but precious.

"Boom!" Arianna announced triumphantly, holding up the toy grenade.

"Patient has pulse!" Elias declared, pressing the toy stethoscope to his sister's arm.

Luna nodded approvingly. "Excellent choices! One to break things, one to fix them. Perfect balance!"

Over the children's heads, Marsh's eyes met mine—amused, content, and still holding that edge of danger that had drawn me to his genetic material all those years ago.

"Perfect balance," he echoed quietly, just for me. "Who would have thought?"

I squeezed his hand, watching our unlikely family with a sense of wonder I never expected to feel. "Not bad for a revenge plot gone wrong."

His laugh—warm and genuine—was still my favorite sound after all these years. "Not bad at all, Mrs. Marsh-Armitage. Not bad at all."