Bittersweet Legacy (The Patricians Book 1) Page 2

  “It’s going to be fine, Esme.” He added before slipping out of the room.

  I finished packing and somehow felt grateful for once that my whole wardrobe fitted into one suitcase.

  A secret father, a fortune…. Seriously, it felt like one of these over-the-top Soap Operas.

  I went through my getting-ready routine, not sure of what I should expect, but I wanted to trust my father… my uncle? No matter what we went through, we always shared love – so much love. And now I had to leave him behind.

  You have to, Esme, if you don't, he'll end up in jail. I kept repeating myself. It’s only temporary. You’ll get your life back.

  I walked into the living room with my small suitcase and backpack.

  William Forbes looked at his watch before turning toward me. “Very well Esmeralda, say goodbye to your uncle, you will not see him for a while.”

  I couldn't contain my tears as Luke pulled me into a fierce hug.

  “I’ll find a way out,” he whispered with urgency against my ear.

  I squeezed him tighter against me. If I’d known this was going to happen… then what? I sighed. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

  “Let’s go –” He repeated, already walking out, expecting me to follow suit. I could already tell he was the kind of man nobody dared question – a leader, a fearless leader who crushed anybody standing in his way… Blood or not.

  I gave a last look toward Luke, hoping I conveyed all the love I could despite my feeling of betrayal before following William Forbes outside.

  “Give your belongings to the driver,” he said dismissively, not even glancing at the man standing by the limousine parked in front of our shabby bungalow.

  I smiled at the man as warmly as I could to make up for William’s rudeness. “Thank you for your help.”

  The man looked surprised but gave me a bright smile. “You’re more than welcome, Miss”

  “We should be at the airfield in the next 30 minutes,” He said as I sat in the car beside him.

  “Airfield?” I asked, but I realized he was talking on the phone, my presence already forgotten.

  “Yes, no problem, I’ve got time. Just give me the numbers over the phone. Ask Jerry to come later today, the flight only takes two hours. I’ll be back at the office by 3pm at the latest.”

  I couldn’t help the bitter smile settling on my face. Talk about a family reunion, long-lost daughter? yeah, okay, who even cares.

  I sighed. He could have just left me here, where I belong.

  He turned toward me with a disapproving look on his face. If even a sigh was getting on his nerves, we were in for a flipping ride.

  I switched off for the rest of the journey, I couldn't care less about stock and interest rates and all the things that didn’t matter to me at all.

  All I cared about was finding out the kind of life that was waiting for me in… hell, I didn’t even know where I was going. All I knew was that Luke would end up in jail for kidnapping if I didn't follow William Forbes to wherever he planned to take me.

  I couldn’t help but gasp as the car stopped close to the private jet. I’d seen them on TV except this one had his name ‘Forbes’… my name… printed on the side in golden letters.

  When William stepped out of the car, a man rushed down the plane’s steps.

  “We’re ready to go, take her luggage, I won't be delayed more.” He turned toward me. “Close your mouth Esmeralda, it’s only our short-haul jet.”

  “Short-haul jet?” I asked following him into the plane’s cabin, which was bedecked in white leather, golden embroidering and what looked like real mahogany. “As in ‘we have a long-haul jet too’?”

  He sighed, gesturing me to the seat across from his. “I presume you have a lot to learn about your legacy. I’ll ask Sophia to get all the books and information in your bedroom.”

  “Sophia?”

  “My wife,” he stated before turning back to his phone, ignoring me again.

  So I was to move in with my father and the wicked step-mother? Would she hate me? Did I have half-siblings who will hate me just for being there?

  I didn’t have any more time to think as the plane started to speed along on the tarmac, causing my heart to speed up in my chest. It was the first time I was taking a plane and the fear and exhilaration were battling in my belly.

  Once we took off, and I managed to calm my erratic heart rate enough, I looked out of the window and couldn't help but be in awe, seeing the view down there, everything so minuscule. It was breathtaking.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been looking out the window but when I turned back, my father was sitting cross-legged, his forefinger against his mouth detailing me with critical eyes.

  “We can’t have you dressing like this,” he affirmed with barely veiled contempt. “I’ve asked Sophia to arrange for the personal shopper to come later today to take your measurements. You’ll have your new wardrobe by the end of the week.”

  “Do I have any say in this?”

  “Absolutely not. The Forbes have a certain standing to uphold, and by taking the name, you are accepting the obligations and responsibilities.”

  What if I don't want that name? I thought, but I knew it would be pointless to say so.

  “You look a lot like your mother. You’re even more beautiful… which I didn't think was possible.”

  It was weird as the statement didn’t sound slimy or complementary. It sounded like a calculation… a scientific assessment.

  I knew I looked like my mother, my father – well, uncle Luke – had shown me a couple of photos of her when she was a teenager and we looked very similar, except where she was tall and willowy I was petite and, while quite thin, I had all the womanly curves which I knew were quite attractive to the opposite gender.

  “Do I have siblings?” I asked secretly, hoping for a young little sister or brother who I could love and bond with. I didn’t have to lose everything.

  He frowned. “What do you know about your life?”

  I snorted. That was a stupid question. “Nothing, obviously.”

  He pursed his lips. You’ll have to start watching your tone young lady. You have suffered a very poor education in the slump life you had with the alcoholic good-for-nothing that is your uncle and for this reason I will be more lenient, but don’t expect this to be permanent. I will arrange for a tutor to attend to your education.”

  Lenient? Just looking at the man I was certain it was not a word in his vocabulary, I was also sure that his version of leniency was far lower than a decent person would assume. A tutor for my education? Did I just step into Regency England without realizing it?

  “When were you born?” He asked.

  “November 17th.”

  He shook his head. “No, you’re born October 12th. Your mother was born November 17th.”

  He nodded. “This explains it.”

  “Explain what? Why change my date of birth?” It made no sense.

  “It made it harder for me to find you even with all the means at my disposal and you couldn’t even comprehend the extend of my reach Esmeralda. Altering your date of birth on your birth certificate delayed me when I was looking for you. Your mother tried to cover all basis.”

  “How did…” I have been raised believing I killed her, I had a hard time letting go of this guilt.

  “How did she die?” I nodded, not trusting my own voice.

  “She died in a car accident when you would have been about five. She was joining me at a gala outside of town, the road was icy, she was driving too fast. Speed and winter are an unforgiving combination.” He sounded so cold – there was not a hint of emotion, pain, fondness. It felt like he was talking about an article he read in the news instead of the woman he was supposed to love, the mother of his child.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you home, where you belong.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Stonewood, Connecticut.”

  T
hat was too cliché for me to mock.

  “And since you asked about your potential siblings, I can confirm that you have a brother, Archibald.”

  I winced at the name, that was quite a mouthful.

  “Don’t look offended, this was the name of your grandfather, a man with immense dignity and integrity. Your brother’s nothing but proud of the legacy his name is carrying.”

  Somehow, I doubted my father’s moral compass and mine pointed in the same direction.

  “Your mother picked your name. She has always been obsessed with Victor Hugo and I was magnanimous enough to grant her wish. “

  Magnanimous? Right! I nodded. “Yes, I knew my mother loved Hugo,” I admitted. “My father told me stories about how-”

  William sat straighter on his seat in such a fast motion I recoiled. “He is not your father.” He pointed to his chest. “I am your father; you have my eyes, Esmeralda. He’s your uncle, nothing more. I strongly advise you to reprogram your way of thinking.”

  The threat was not even veiled. I pursed my lips but nodded, there wasn’t much I could do about this. “How old is my brother?”

  “Seventeen,” he replied. “Actually, he is a little older than you.”

  I arched my eyebrows in surprise and then frowned in anger as reality hit me. I was offended on behalf of my mother. If my brother was 17 too, it meant he’d had an affair. How horrible could this man be?

  “Well I’m saying that based on the birth certificates but at the same time how accurate are they? Yours says ‘Esmeralda Rosalind Forbes, born on October 12th at 8:48pm status Stillborn and yet…” he gestured toward me, “you seem very much alive to me.”

  “Esmeralda Rosalind?” I scrunched my nose. Lord, I will miss Esme Victoria.

  “Based on his birth certificate your brother was born at 8:32pm so a whole 16 minutes before you.”

  “16 minutes…” I whispered. “Is he?”

  “Your twin, yes.”

  My twin… Of all the things I could have imagined, the existence of a twin was not one of them.

  “I’m counting on him to help you adapt as fast as possible, it is quite a steep learning curve, but I have faith in your abilities. You’re my child after all.”

  “Does he know I exist?”

  William nodded. “Yes, I informed him of this fact earlier this week, when I found out you existed.”

  I knew it would be pointless to ask how my brother felt about all of this because either my father wouldn't have cared how my brother felt or my brother would have hidden his feelings.

  A brother… a twin brother. I looked away, too overwhelmed by the revelation to even keep a simulacrum of conversation with my father. I had time to discover more, time to process. I wondered if Archie looked like me, if he would be happy to have a sister. He’d known I was born even if he'd thought I died. Did he ever miss me? Did he miss the mother he lost so young?

  For the first time since this morning I was looking forward to reaching our destination and meeting my brother. I rested my hand on my lips, trying to hide the little smile forming at the thought of meeting my brother from my father, I didn't need him to believe it was for me.

  Chapter 3

  I didn't have to worry about continuing any type of conversation with my father as he picked up his phone as soon as we off the plane and didn’t put it down during the 20 minutes’ drive in the most luxurious sedan I’d ever seen.

  I looked curiously at the oversized wrought-iron gates with a security guard post.

  My father opened his tinted windows and a guard almost bowed as he rushed to activate the gate. Seriously, how rich was he?

  The internal path taking us to the house was much more like a road with perfectly manicured greenery on each side, the estate was so big I couldn’t even see where it ended on both sides.

  After a full five minutes, the car stopped and my father exited, ordering me to do the same.

  “Holy shit!” I gasped as I exited and craned my neck to try and take in the gigantic red brick and stone residence, resplendent with blue diaper patterning, in front of me.

  I was not an expert in architecture but it looked like a Tudor design quite similar to the house I saw in Peaky Blinders, the show my father was obsessed with. Thank you, Netflix! I thought as a pang of sadness filled me at the idea of Luke being alone. We would have had a good laugh at this house.

  Did he know it? Had he ever seen it? I shook my head, willing these sad thoughts away.

  The Forbes residence was an ‘L’ shape, two floors with so many windows that had mullion, stone and transom surrounds. The single-storey porch flanked by Ionic columns extended from the central bay area, and the heavy alcove-shaped doors boasted an ornate Crest with the coat of arms.

  I looked up and noticed at least five chimneys, and a slate roof with actual patterns on it. That was some sick rich-man shit.

  My father gestured to me to follow him.

  “Ask Sophia or Henry the butler to give you a tour of the estate.” he explained with his back to me as a person who I supposed was the butler opened the heavy door.

  “Welcome home, Mister Forbes, Miss Esmeralda.” He enunciated very formally, bowing his head in what seemed to be a sign of respect.

  I walked in and I had to use all my willpower not to gasp like a child at the magnificence of the entrance.

  High ceilings, adorned with engravings, crystal chandeliers, majestic mahogany double staircases which joined into a massive one on the first floor.

  The sound of sharp stilettos on the gray marble floor stopped my assessment of the grandeur of my surroundings.

  The woman who appeared from the back of the house was everything I expected my father’s trophy wife to be. I’ve never really seen an episode of the Real Housewives shows but if there was one set in Connecticut that woman would have been the icon.

  She was quite a bit taller than me, which wasn’t that hard, considering. She stood at 5’7’’, honey blonde hair falling in perfectly styled waves down her back, perfect flawless make-up which prevented me from giving her a definite age but I would wager she was around her mid-thirties - Quite young for my father really but probably too old to be a first generation trophy-wife. She was wearing a tight red dress stopping just above her knees and an asymmetric neckline which showed quite a lot of her surgically enhanced cleavage.

  “Oh William isn’t she beautiful?” She gushed, opening her arms and pulling me into a hug I didn't expect at all.

  I pulled away from her as my nose started to itch both due to the peppery perfume and her hair.

  She smiled, removing a strand of hair which escaped my ponytail from my face, before squeezing my shoulder. It seemed genuine and almost affectionate, which was quite unexpected from the dolled-up woman in front of me.

  “She is,” my father replied – the lack of warmth in his voice so striking compared to hers. “Esmeralda, this is your stepmother Sophia.” he added, pointing at us, not even having the decency to look up from his phone.

  “Sophia,” he looked up and once again his eyes lacked any warmth, I'd never really witnessed how married life worked but I hoped that if I ever married, my husband would look at me like I mattered and not like I was the housekeeper. “Show her what she needs to see and make sure you’re down for dinner at 8 as usual.” He looked down at his phone again. “I’ll be in my office, Miller is coming,” he added before walking away without a look back.

  “Where’s my stuff?” I called after him, making Sophia wince.

  “Later,” he replied sharply, leaving no room for argument.

  “I just-” I turned to Sophia, somehow even more unsettled than I was before. She gave me a kind smile, rubbing my arm up and down. “It’s okay honey, let him do his thing, we’ll get your things later.”

  Of all the situations playing through my head before we arrived, I didn’t expect to be grateful for this woman and yet here I was.

  “Okay so, let me give you a quick rundown of the house, which you
will forget but I’ll be here to help and if you’re lost just shout,” she chuckled. “We will get into more details later but the personal shopper will be here soon so we need to move. At the back,” she said, pointing in the general direction my father took at the foot of the staircase, “This way will take you to the back garden where you have a tennis court, the stables and-”

  “Stables? We have horses?”

  She chuckled again. “Yes dear, eight to be exact. We can go ride later this weekend if you’d like.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know how.”

  She patted my shoulder, “I’ll teach you, you’ll see it’s easy.” She sighed. “Anyway, this way will take you outside. If you take a right,” she said, pointing at the corridor right of the stairs, “It will take you to the kitchen, and downstairs to the cinema room and our heated Olympic-size swimming pool.”

  I nodded, there was no point gushing at everything now.

  “Okay, let’s go upstairs. I can show you your room. I didn't have much time to decorate or make it cozy I’m afraid – your father only told me about you a week ago, plus I think you should make it yours.”

  “Thank you.” I replied, and I meant it, it was the attention that counted and as far as I could tell, that woman was genuine.

  Once we reached the second-floor landing, she turned to her left and what seemed to be the longest corridor in history, I couldn’t even see the end of it from where I was standing.

  “This is where our bedroom is, there are also a couple of guest rooms, the indoor gym and the art studio.”

  Indoor gym? Did it imply an outdoor one? “An art studio?” I asked instead. “Are you an artist?”

  She grimaced. “I wish, no, I’m passable at best but it does help me relax, and it was already there, you know…” She stopped, looking at me with sad eyes and I understood what she meant by that.

  “It was my mother’s,” I concluded for her.

  She nodded sheepishly. “Yes… sorry.”

  I waved my hand dismissively but somehow grieving this new version of a mother that outlived my birth. It was all new, and I had to accept the new feeling of loss, and the five years of memories I could have had with her.