Page 59

Lush foliage decorates the massive front lawn in a sea of deep green.

The California drought doesn’t extend to the wealthy here, like everything else in the world.

Every hedge is carefully trimmed, every tree well taken care of, including the large oak trees on the premise, the ones I would climb up as a kid and hide amongst the branches as I played hide and seek with my sisters.

I remember Emily screeching as she ran around searching for me, and Jess…

she always found me first but then pretended she didn’t see me, even though I’d hear her pointing another direction to misdirect Emily whenever she got close to my hiding spot.

I smile at the fond memories of this front lawn.

I played soccer with my friends here, stargazed into the heavens at night when I couldn’t sleep inside the large house, which grew even quieter and lonelier when Emily and Jess both went away for college, leaving me behind.

I’d look at the stars and wonder what was up there.

My mind flits to Grace when she grabbed my arm that night at the High Line and made me wish under a shooting star.

I guess I found my answer years later. Perhaps during those nights when I was lying on a beach blanket, watching the stars twinkle in the clear night skies, a lonely girl on the opposite side of the country was doing the same, and we were all along tied by this thin string between us, which pulled us closer and closer until a year ago when she stepped into Pietra .

I smile as I remember her soft lips, the very ones I kissed late last night before I got in my jet to travel back here to deliver the news of Voss’s downfall in person to my father.

I heave out a breath, my lungs taking in one more gulp of my childhood, and another memory cuts to the forefront as I’m standing on the manicured lawns, staring at the front door separating me and my parents.

This is the spot that ended my innocence almost nineteen years ago.

When I found out Father wasn’t a god, but a human, and he wasn’t perfect.

When I found out he had no heart to give us because he already gave it to a woman and a sad little girl under the pouring rain on a starless night.

When I felt unwanted and unworthy because he said he would’ve left us if it weren’t for his company and legacy.

When I wanted a hug I didn’t receive.

When my heart broke into a thousand pieces and never truly healed.

The thought sobers me, clouding the good memories with a cloak of darkness and a heaviness creeps in and makes its home on my chest.

Fisting my hands, I straighten up and take a deep breath, attempting to dislodge the anvil sitting on top of my rib cage.

I’m here to rewrite the ending. To tell this man he made the right choice by staying behind all those years ago, that despite his heartbreak and the way the heavens cried alongside him that night, his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

Because I saved his legacy, the thing he cares most about in the entire world.

Because I’m worthy.

With that thought, I square my shoulders and unlock the front door, stepping inside the quiet foyer.

Mabel, the housekeeper, a portly woman with a kind face, comes to the door and greets me, but I shake my head. “I’ll find my parents on my own. Thank you.”

At this hour, Father should be sitting in the dining room, reading his newspapers—the old-school paper ones because he’s a traditionalist—a frown on his face as he peruses the current events.

Mother would be next to him, drinking tea and prattling about their social calendars or the gossip of the day, which would earn her an occasional grunt or response from Father.

I hear Mother’s one-sided conversation as I approach the dining room.

Some things never change.

And yet, many things have changed over the years.

Stepping inside the spacious room, lit up by the morning light streaming in from the large grid windows, my parents look up at me in surprise.

“Steven!” Mother gets up, her hair perfectly coiffed, her hands smoothing over the nonexistent wrinkles on her cream couture dress. “We weren’t expecting you to visit.”

She beams as she flutters around the room and hollers for the housekeeper to bring a set of silverware and some breakfast items.

Father sets down his newspaper and smiles at me, but the warmth doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks skinnier than when I saw him last. His gray-streaked hair is almost completely white. His complexion is sullen and pale. He looks like he has given up and is barely clinging to life.

I take a seat on the right side of him as Mabel sets down a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of toast, ham, and eggs. I thank her then stare at my parents, who have now given me their full attention, no doubt wondering about the purpose of my surprise visit.

After clearing my throat, I bring the coffee to my lips and take a sip. My fingers tremble. My pulse races. My palms grow sweaty.

Turning to Father, I say, “Father, as of last night, Timothy Voss was arrested for a multitude of corporate crimes. I imagine the news will break soon if it hasn’t already.”

Father straightens up, a tenseness radiating from his frail frame.

“I gathered some evidence of his wrongdoings and worked with the feds to take him down. The TransAmerica takeover will not happen. I know I didn’t do it your way, but sometimes, we need to bend the rules to win the game.

We can’t bring our fists to a gunfight and expect to win.

” Grace’s wise words. Staring at him, I swallow, watching his eyes widen as the implications sink in .

“TransAmerica is safe, Father. Your legacy is s-safe.” My voice breaks toward the end and I watch a wet sheen appearing in Father’s eyes. He trembles, his arms and hands shaking on the table, clearly from disbelief and shock.

Suddenly, it’s as if a flame that was sniffed out has renewed, the fire growing as the seconds pass by.

“T-TransAmerica is s-safe?” His hands shake as he clutches his mug in a tight grip, his favorite mug with the R inscribed and the small handprint.

I swallow and nod. My heart beats a resounding rhythm. “Yes. We did it.”

He heaves out a deep breath, his mouth opening as if he’s trying to speak, but no words come out. He takes a few more gulps of air; the mug in his hand clattering against the table in an erratic rhythm, and the tea sloshes out, but he pays no notice.

“I-It’s safe,” he repeats, his eyes widening and taking on a faraway look, almost like he’s trying to wake himself up from a dream.

Mother claps, her normally terse face warming instantly. She turns to Father. “Robert, what did I tell you? Steven would save the company. I knew he would do it, and you were so despondent over nothing. Your son is brilliant, just like you—”

My attention turns to Mother as our last interaction at the restaurant creeps to the forefront. My hands grip the table napkin in front of me as my heart thuds rapidly behind my rib cage in nervousness, excitement, and now…anger.

She wanted to buy Grace off.

She disrespected her and, by association, disrespected me in return.

The tsunami moves up my chest and I fist my hands.

Pushing my chair out, I stand up, watching Mother’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Steven?”

“Mother, Father, I’m here to tell you we won and TransAmerica is safe.

But I also want to let you both know I found the love of my life.

Her name is Grace Peyton, and she’s the most important person to me.

We will be together with or without your consent.

She’s it for me. The end game. My life is incomplete without her. ”

Glaring at Mother, I continue, “If you dare disrespect her like you did at The Orchid, I will never come home again. Our children will not know their grandparents. I won’t let anyone hurt her again.”

Then, my gaze returns to my father, who looks shell-shocked at the turn of events. “If it weren’t for Grace, you’d have lost TransAmerica. She provided the contact to find the evidence against Voss. It’s because of her you get to keep your legacy intact.”

“G-Grace,” Father whispers, his voice haunted, and he clasps his chest.

Mother stands up and tosses her napkin on the table, a rare display of outright anger from someone who always cares most about poise and outward appearances. “You can’t do this, Steven. You just can’t—”

I turn away and storm out of the dining room, my legs carrying me down the hallway, through the foyer, and I wrench open the front door and slam it closed behind me with a resounding bang .

I’m done with her. With them. No one can separate Grace and me.

No one.

The door crashes open a minute later and Mother steps out behind me, her breathing frantic.

“Mother, I’m not going to listen to you—” I walk toward my car, desperate to get out of here and get back to New York where Grace is waiting for me. Where my home is.

“Steven!” She grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop, her heels dragging across the pavement.

“Steven, she’s your sister !”

My heart flatlines in a matter of milliseconds, her words echoing in my ears. My lungs seize and my legs almost give out from underneath me. The void in my chest is so visceral, my hands clutch my shirt in a trembling grip. Sister? What?

It can’ t be.

“What?” I whirl around, finding Mother’s face pale, her eyes frantic and wild.

My pulse rams harshly in my ears and every sound is too shrill, every sensation too sharp. Heat and cold sweat coalesce, like my body’s barometer has shattered into pieces along with my sanity.

I shake my head. “Stop your lies, Mother. I’ve made my choice to be with her and it’s pathetic you’re resolving to this to stop me.”

She shakes her head vigorously, her face flushed, her perfectly combed hair falling out of the pins, but she doesn’t even appear to notice.

She hurls forward and grips my arm tighter, digging her fingers into my sleeve.

“Steven, if she were a normal girl—even if she was poor and I didn’t like her background—knowing how you felt about her, I wouldn’t have stood in the way.

Not after what I went through with Jess and Emily.

I know how stubborn you kids are when it comes to love. ”

Her eyes well up and she continues, “Your father had an affair when you were younger. He had a lot of business in New York then and would fly out and stay over there for weeks at a time. Over time, I realized he spent more time there than at home and he grew distant, even more so than before. It was then I hired someone to tail him, and I…”

Her body shakes as she takes in a ragged breath.

“I found out he had this entire family out there. A woman and two girls. I saw photos of how he took them to the park, to Coney Island, how he held the woman’s hand as they walked down the streets and took the subway, like they were a happy, normal family.

Then one day, the woman and one of their daughters showed up here unannounced, and I caught them.

It was raining so hard and your father just stood there crying.

He was going to leave us. I was sure of it. ”

I freeze and hold my breath as the world stops spinning around me and I listen to her side of the story of that horrible night. Mother’s tears are streaming down her face now, her mascara running down her cheeks, but she doesn’t seem to care.

I’ve never seen her cry before. I’ve never seen her look so devastated.

Never in front of me.

“I confronted him and told him to make a choice. Us or them. I knew he married me for money, but I thought we were happy. He brought TransAmerica back to life with my family’s help. We had three beautiful children together.”

She swipes the tears from her face, the mascara streaking across her pale skin. “She was begging him to leave us…”

Her words fade into the surroundings as the breath I was holding swooshes out of my lungs like someone delivered a powerful liver punch to my gut.

I’m rendered immobile, my mind in a haze, my heart fracturing, splintering, pulverizing by the weight of her words as she smashes my world in front of me, snuffing the bright stars in the skies, the warm sunlight behind the clouds.

I shake my head in disbelief. No, it can’t be.

I can’t breathe. The tie is choking me, winding itself around my windpipe with her words and my memories as assailants.

A sharp pain stabs through my chest as her words echo repeatedly in my mind and I feel them so viscerally in my body, I flinch and fall to my knees.

My fingers grip the wet grass, trying to find purchase on anything that’ll keep me tethered to consciousness even as dots appear in my vision.

This is a nightmare, much worse than the sea monster swallowing me whole.

Mother’s cries pierce the silence of the morning, which was once peaceful but now gruesome.

“I’m sorry, Steven. I’m so, so sorry,” she sobs as she wraps her body around my back, and kneels next to me, not caring about the wet dirt ruining her dress.

Ironically, this is one of the few times Mother has fully wrapped me in an embrace.

One I thought I desperately wanted, but now hate.

My mind fills in the blanks of the spotty memory from that one stormy night a long time ago, when I stood behind the blue chair and peered out the windows and saw the tears pouring down from the skies as Father was overcome with grief.

The beautiful woman, with sad eyes and dark hair plastered against her face and the little girl—oh God, the little girl who turned my way as she burrowed herself in her mother’s side.

Her beautiful, striking eyes. Her elfin face.

Grace’s eyes. Grace’s face.

The girl who stole my hug that night.

The girl who had my father’s love all along.

His favorite mug. The little handprint.

My sister.