I’m alone in the back seat of the black sedan that takes me to dinner at my father’s house.
I look up at the grey stone mansion and grimace, not looking forward to this. I know that there should probably be some curiosity in me, some desire to know more about my family and my heritage. But honestly? Lorenzo Alden doesn’t feel anything like my father. That, to me, will always be David.
Kent sent two guards with me and instructed them to stay by me at all times. For protection, presumably, but also – I think – to be Kent’s eyes and ears at the meeting. Alden is his ally, but I think even the term “ally” in this underworld has some tenuous distrust built into it.
I had begged David to come with me but Kent denied that too. Alden, apparently, wanted me all to himself. Great. I was already awkward enough, now I have to go into this alone? It was definitely going to be a disaster.
The guards get out of the front of the car after they park and come around to open my door. I step out and sigh, wishing I was anywhere else. The stables, preferably, getting to know Heathcliff.
The three of us troupe up the front steps to the house and formally ring the bell. I twist my mouth at the irony here. If he’s my dad – if this is my house – shouldn’t I be able to walk right in?
A maid opens it for us, giving us a kind smile, and then opens the door wide in welcome.
As we step in, I stop dead in my tracks. The guards almost bump into me.
“Are you okay?” one asks – Jerome, I think. One of the friendlier guards in Kent’s employ.
“Yes,” I murmur in response, staring around the room.
But in reality? I’m totally not okay.
Walking into this house is like walking into a dream. I’ve been here before, I suddenly realize. I know things about this space – what’s around some of the corners, what things will feel like, what it smells like. Even the rugs are familiar – a soft burnt orange, thick and plush underneath my feet. The arch that leads into the dining room – yes, I know that, and if I look just beyond it I’ll find…
Yes, there. A hutch, filled with blue and white china.
“Oh my god,” I murmur, looking around as I slowly walk through the dining room.
The maid looks at me hesitantly. “Dinner isn’t ready yet, miss,” she says. “If you’ll come with me to the sitting room…”
I ignore her – not really meaning to be rude, but – I can’t help myself as I walk to the back of the room and push open the door to the kitchen. The avocado green fridge and stove are exactly as I remember them. Except, I didn’t know that I did remember them.
I hear footsteps behind me. “Familiar, is it?”
I turn to see Alden standing there. I look at him with wide eyes.
He looks around at the kitchen. “We couldn’t keep you out of here,” he says, “your mother, the maids, or me. You always wanted to come in and pull out all of the pots and pans. Pretend you were cooking. Or just bang on them.”
I just stare at him, bewildered. I was only five when we went to live with David – it was certainly old enough to remember something. How did I remember nothing?
Alden indulges me for a moment and then nods back towards the living room. “Come,” he says. “I want to introduce you to some people.”
I follow, still staring around at the house. My house, where I lived, as a small child. As I consider it, I realize that they are not unhappy memories – I have no feelings of fear or trauma attached to this place.
Which, I suppose, is a good thing.
Alden leads me into the sitting room, my guards following closely behind. When we enter, I’m surprised to see a woman sitting there with a boy at her side and a baby in her lap.
“Fay,” Alden says, putting out a hand to me. “I’d like to introduce you to Tristin, my wife.” I blink at the woman, surprised. Why had no one mentioned to me that my father had remarried?
“How – how do you do?” I ask, fumbling over the words.
She doesn’t reply, simply giving me a cold look. She’s a beautiful woman, petite, with dark hair and large hazel eyes. Her full pink lips are pursed with dislike.
“And this,” Alden says, gesturing towards the children, “Is my son Romulus and my daughter Estrella. Your…ah. Your half siblings, I suppose.” He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair.
I smile at Romulus, who looks up at me with excited eyes. He’s the picture of his mother, really – dark hair, delicate pale skin, pretty hazel eyes. The baby is also very sweet, smiling up at me in her white bonnet. As I look at the three of them, I can tell that Tristin has dressed them in pale green to match her own outfit.
A glance at the green accents on Alden’s suit suggest that he’s part of their group as well. I look down at myself, dressed in sapphire blue. Perhaps she’s sending me a message about exactly who belongs in this family.
“Welcome,” Tristin says, her voice cold. She looks me up and down with distaste. I sigh, seeing that this isn’t going to be an easy road.
“Thank you,” I say, doing my best to give them all a smile as I lower myself awkwardly into a chair by the coffee table. We’re silent as a maid brings in a silver tray with a tea set on it. As she lays it down on the table, I can’t help but stare at it.
“Oh my god,” I say, leaning in close to get a better look. “I remember this. There’s a little chip…” I turn the sugar bowl halfway round and, indeed, there it is. Right on the rim.
Alden laughs a little but Tristin goes stiff in her seat. “Yes, well,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “If someone would let me replace it.”
“Oh no,” I say without thinking, looking up at them all. “It’s such a beautiful set – you can’t possibly –“
“Well if you’re so fond of it,” she says, glaring at me. “You shall take it with you when you go.”
I bite my lip, realizing that it’s not precisely a friendly gesture that she’s making.
“In fact,” she says, glaring at me and gesturing all around the room. “I guess all of this is yours now. So you should take it with you. Thank you so much for graciously letting me live among your inheritance for so many years.”
“I –“ I start, but then I fade off, not knowing what to say. My inheritance? What was she talking about?
“Tristin,” Alden says, leaning back in his chair, his voice low with warning.
“What,” she says, turning to him. “Am I incorrect? Now that your first-born has returned, has been recognized by you, everything belongs to her.”
“That is not,” he says, “precisely the case, Tristin –“
“Oh please,” she huffs, “just look at her, already prowling around the house, inspecting it like it’s hers.” She turns her cold eyes on me. “Will you wait until his body is cold before you come and claim it? Or will you turn me out before the funeral?”
My mouth falls open as I look between them, my eyes finally settling on little Romulus, who looks about ready to bolt. Oh god, poor kid. Is this his life every day?
“I’m really not here –“ I say, trying (and failing) to put on a cheerful smile, “to take anyone’s inheritance – seriously, you can keep it all –“
“Lies,” she hisses, standing up and clutching the baby to her chest.
“Tristin,” Alden says, raising his voice, the rage growing in him. “You will sit, and treat my daughter with respect.”
“Your daughter?!” she yells, appalled. Then holds the baby out towards him, right at his eye level. “This is your daughter! The one whose rights you are stripping to give to that girl who hasn’t spent more than ten minutes with you in her entire life!”
I open my mouth to say something but Romulus shakes his head fervently at me, warning me against it. I close my mouth, then, trusting him to know his parents better than me.
My father and step-mother proceed to get into a blow-out fight, then screaming at each other, flinging insults and accusations left and right. Alden lifts his hand once in threat against his wife, and in response Tristin picks up a music box, hurling it at his face. He dodges, but ss soon as it crashes against the wall, Romulus flees from the room and one of my guards wraps his hand around my upper arm.
“Time to go,” Jerome says, giving me a little tug.