Aya's POV

"None of you will ever have to pack up a backpack for a new school district ever again. You can build real, lasting connections with people without constantly fearing the day you have to say goodbye. I want you to experience what it feels like to actually have solid ground beneath your feet." 

At that point, silent tears were actively tracing lines down my face. My chest felt tight and heavy. 

"I want you to go out, make friends, have fun, and for once in your young lives, stop calculating whether we can afford groceries at the end of the week. Just let your old man handle the heavy lifting for a change, alright?" 

A single tear escaped his eye and rolled into his stubble. He stood up from the worn cushions of the sofa and expanded his arms wide, a massive, ridiculous grin breaking across his face. "Alright, enough of the heavy stuff. Come give your dad a suffocating good-luck hug." 

We all let out a collective, theatrical groan at his dramatic delivery, but we didn’t hesitate for a fraction of a second before throwing ourselves into his embrace. 

A sudden, violent rattling at my shoulder snapped me out of the memory, and my earbuds were unceremoniously yanked from my ears. 

"We’ve finally arrived!" Tina’s incredibly high-pitched, enthusiastic voice cut through the quiet cabin of the car, causing me to physically flinch away from the noise. 

I could feel the residual moisture lingering in the corners of my eyes, but before any evidence of my heavy thoughts could spill down my cheeks, I aggressively wiped them away with the back of my hand and forced out a rough, ragged exhale. 

I knew my role in this family dynamic. I had to remain the anchor for every single one of them. My job was to play the jester—to maintain a bright smile and keep the atmosphere light, regardless of how I felt internally. It wasn't a duty I resented; after years of constant practice, masking my real emotions had become entirely second nature. 

I shifted my focus to my sister, who was currently attempting to craft an expression of utter boredom, though the sheer excitement radiating from her wide, bright eyes completely gave her away. I let out a massive, exaggerated yawn. 

She immediately rolled her striking grey eyes in my direction, tossing her head back with a dramatic sigh. "How absolutely wonderful of you to match my level of enthusiasm for this place." 

Her sharp, sarcastic defense mechanism never failed to amuse me. She let out a sharp huff, retrieved a small compact mirror from the depths of her oversized tote bag, and began digging around a second time until she successfully retrieved a hairbrush and a tube of bright pink lip gloss. 

"Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath, shifting my gaze forward toward Jamey. 

True to form, my younger brother was completely checked out, his nose buried deep inside a book that looked practically fused to his palms. His eyes were darting back and forth across the printed lines with a frantic intensity, as if he were racing against an impending apocalypse and absolutely had to finish the final chapter before the world ended. 

I let out another quiet sigh, sinking deeper into the worn fabric of the passenger seat. 

It was then that I noticed Alastair had brought our battered, high-mileage Honda Civic to a complete halt along the shoulder of the pavement, idling just a few yards away from a massive set of ornate, black iron security gates. 

What was causing the delay? I scanned our immediate surroundings but couldn't find a single physical obstacle blocking our path forward. I unbuckled and leaned into the space between the front seats to get a better look at my brother. 

"Alastair?" I inquired softly, poking my head directly into the gap separating his seat from Jamey's. 

His gaze was locked straight ahead, a tiny muscle visibly throbbing along the hard line of his clenched jaw. Because I had kept my eyes shut for the vast majority of the drive, I hadn't paid a single shred of attention to our surroundings on the way over—a lapse in judgment that I was suddenly starting to regret. I tilted my head to the side, trying to peer through the windshield. 

My jaw dropped in absolute shock, and my eyes widened at the sight unfolding before us. 

Good grief, the property was completely colossal. It looked exactly like the sprawling estate grounds I had only ever encountered in the pages of unrealistic contemporary romance novels. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and to call it massive would be a severe understatement. 

There had to be some sort of logistical error. 

"Yeah?" Alastair finally responded a full minute later, by which point I had almost completely lost track of the question I originally intended to ask. 

I forced myself to swallow the hard lump that had formed in my throat, nervously running my tongue over my dry lips. My gaze remained entirely paralyzed by the sheer scale of the house, but I managed to force the words past my lips. "Where exactly are we?" 

That wasn't the question I had planned to utter, but given the architectural marvel looming over us, it felt like the only query that actually mattered. This absolutely had to be a case of mistaken identity. There was simply no way a house like this belonged to our contact. Blake Brinkley couldn't possibly possess this level of extreme wealth... could he? 

My heart hammered violently against my ribs, the sheer anxiety forcing me to lean back into the rear seat as a heavy thumping echoed in my ears. 

Alastair slowly turned his head to look back at me, a deep, dark scowl gradually carving its way across his features. "We are at the Brinkley estate." 

I instinctively bit down hard on my lower lip, while Tina immediately began bouncing in her seat right next to me, practically vibrating with excitement. She clamped a hand around my forearm, her voice a breathless squeak. "It’s absolutely stunning, isn’t it? I would lay money down that there’s a massive inground pool somewhere back there. Oh my gosh! Can we please just get out of this cramped car already?" 

Alastair let out a heavy, defeated sigh and shifted the Civic back into drive. The security guard stationed at the entrance gate immediately pressed a button to let us pass through, clearly having been briefed well in advance regarding our scheduled arrival. 

He navigated the long driveway and brought the car to a stop in a wide parking area, where a young man outfitted in a sharp, navy blue and white uniform stood waiting with a polite grin. 

Tina threw her passenger door open with significantly more force than necessary and practically launched herself onto the pavement, a radiant smile stretching across her face. She immediately retrieved her smartphone from her pocket and began furiously typing out a message—undoubtedly giving a play-by-play update to one of her old friends back in Charleston. 

I let out another slow breath and looked back over at Alastair. Deep shadows were visibly carved beneath his hazel eyes, and his messy brown hair was so completely disheveled that it made me wonder if he had abandoned the concept of grooming entirely. 

It was obvious that while Dad’s departure speech had profoundly impacted Alastair, it hadn't done a single thing to convince him that this arrangement was a good idea. He didn't want to be here. None of us did, but I could tell he was already cultivating a deep, systemic hatred for our new reality. 

He had an inherent disgust for anything that resembled charity or a handout. Personally, I wasn't a fan of it either, but I possessed the pragmatic understanding that occasionally, you have to swallow your pride and accept help if you want to keep your head above water. Unfortunately, that specific brand of survival logic was entirely absent from my older brother's worldview. 

I could see the writing on the wall: he had already written off this entire estate, the family living inside it, and the town as a whole. 

I reached out, placing a reassuring hand firmly on his shoulder, and offered him a genuine smile. "We’re going to handle this the way we always do—together. Everything is going to turn out fine." 

He offered me a tight, simulated half-smile and gave a single nod of agreement. "Always." 

Then, he shifted his focus toward Jamey, reaching over to aggressively muss up his already chaotic nest of curly brown hair. "Isn't that right, professor?" 

Jamey offered a distracted nod of affirmation without ever lifting his eyes from the printed page, leaving it highly debatable whether he had any actual comprehension of what he was agreeing to. 

Alastair and I exchanged a quiet, knowing look, a shared chuckle breaking the tension. That was classic Jamey behavior. 

Suddenly, my younger brother’s pale green eyes snapped up to meet ours. A wide grin broke across his face, and we instantly braced ourselves for the inevitable payload of information. "Did either of you know that the longest recorded time gap between the births of two identical twins is actually eighty-seven days?" 

Honestly, that was probably the single most normal, decent piece of data he had shared with us in recent memory. 

We both let out a genuine laugh, shaking our heads at his textbook delivery. We knew the brief window of interaction had officially closed the moment his gaze dropped right back to the pages of his book, effectively blocking out our presence and the entire outside world with terrifying ease. There were moments when I was incredibly jealous of his ability to just switch off reality at will. 

I forced a massive, theatrical smile onto my face and spoke to the remaining passengers. "Alright, team. Let's go introduce ourselves to the place we’re calling home for the next six months." 

Aya's POV 

The moment the engine cut out, my brothers and I stepped down onto the pristine asphalt, heading straight for the rear of the Civic to handle the cargo. Alastair possessed a naturally athletic, muscular build that the rest of us simply lacked; he was easily the powerhouse of the family, so he naturally took charge of wrestling the heaviest containers out of the trunk. Our entire life for the next two quarters was packed into a single rolling suitcase and a handful of canvas duffel bags fitted with basic over-the-shoulder straps. For most people, a six-month relocation requires a literal moving truck, but our family had long since mastered the art of packing light. 

As we stood there sorting the straps, a sharply dressed young man approached us. He introduced himself as the estate's valet and politely requested the keys, explaining that he needed to adjust the Honda's positioning so it was aligned perfectly within the designated parking zones. Apparently, Alastair had brought us to a halt a bit too far outside some unspoken boundary line. 

A valet? For a beat-up sedan? 

An involuntary giggle escaped my lips, earning me a low, irritated growl from my older brother. Despite his pride, Alastair ultimately surrendered the key ring with a reluctant sigh. Falling into step behind him and Jamey, I began a slow, tentative march toward this massive unknown chapter of our lives. Tina immediately attached herself to my arm, practically vibrating with an energy so intense it felt like she had literal springs installed in the soles of her shoes. 

I simply shook my head at her sheer, unadulterated excitement. Historically speaking, she had always been the animated, socially effortless one between the two of us. Her perfectly styled hair bounced in sync with her energetic stride as we finally reached the massive, white double entry doors and pressed the intercom button. 

"Honestly, you really should have considered putting on a slightly more presentable outfit," Tina remarked, her eyes scanning my entire form with a look of genuine aesthetic disapproval. "And would it actually kill you to run a brush through your hair once in a while? You might be surprised by the transformation." 

I offered her a dramatic roll of my eyes, completely unfazed because I knew her critiques were born out of a place of sisterly affection rather than malice. 

Up until the exact moment I laid eyes on this estate, I honestly believed my appearance was perfectly fine. The residents of this neighborhood looked like they had been pulled directly from the glossy pages of a luxury lifestyle publication, whereas my personal aesthetic leaned heavily toward survivalist casual. Today, I was sporting a simple black tank top layered beneath an unbuttoned, red-and-white flannel shirt, paired with rugged cargo pants and my absolute favorite worn-in combat boots. My dark, thick curls were loosely gathered into a chaotic, effortless topknot, with a few stray tendrils framing my face. To top it off, I had never experimented with cosmetics a single day in my life. 

Tina, on the other hand, was my absolute polar opposite. She had chosen a sleek, form-fitting grey V-neck tee, neatly tucked into a high-waisted black skirt that hit right at her mid-thigh. Her luminous, wavy blonde locks fell loose over her shoulders from a crisp side part, and her makeup application was entirely flawless. 

While she undeniably looked like a professional model, looking at her didn't trigger a single drop of jealousy in me. I genuinely appreciated my own style. I felt entirely content in my own identity, even if she would never truly comprehend why I consistently picked heavy leather boots over elegant high heels. Glamour simply wasn't wired into my DNA. 

Before I was forced to explain to her—for the hundredth time—that I had absolutely zero intention of altering my identity to appease the upper crust of society, the heavy door swung inward. 

Standing on the threshold was a impeccably put-together, middle-aged woman wearing a vibrant, knee-length floral dress and elegant black stiletto heels. A warm, radiant smile instantly broke across her features as she nodded welcomingly. 

"You must be the Rhodes family," she greeted us, her tone incredibly polite and inviting.  

"The most anticipated arrivals of the season! Please, come on inside and make yourselves at home." 

She ushered our small group through the grand entryway, letting the heavy door click shut securely behind us. Presenting what I assumed was her standard hospitable expression, she guided us into a cavernous, sweeping living area. I stood there completely paralyzed by the sheer grandeur of the interior architectural design. Right next to me, Tina was experiencing a similar state of shock; her mouth was slightly open, and her thumbs were flying across her phone screen as she undoubtedly texted her friends a highly detailed inventory of the soaring white walls, intricate plaster molding, massive crystal chandelier, and museum-quality artwork. And that wasn't even factoring in the monumental winding staircase dominating the foyer. 

The seating arrangement featured an incredibly plush, mahogany-colored leather sofa that felt so deep I half-expected to completely sink through the cushions. Directly in front of us sat a dark-wood glass coffee table, anchored by a vibrant arrangement of exotic flowers arranged inside a delicate, powder-blue tinted vase. I couldn't even begin to identify the species of the brilliant blossoms. 

We took turns introducing ourselves, and she listened with genuine warmth, nodding along as if our arrival was the highlight of her entire week. Once the initial pleasantries were out of the way, she excused herself to fetch us some refreshments. Halfway down the expansive corridor, she paused, turning back to look at us. Her golden-blonde hair was pinned into a flawless, tight chignon, and a striking shade of crimson lipstick highlighted her elegant features. 

She was undeniably stunning, which left me deeply curious about her exact role in the household. Dad had previously mentioned that the property was occupied strictly by Mr. Brinkley and his teenage son, noted that a divorce had severed the marriage roughly five years ago—coincidentally around the exact same period we had lost our mother. 

"Oh, where are my manners!" she exclaimed, offering a self-deprecating laugh. "I'm Linda. I suppose I’m just a bit flustered and incredibly thrilled to finally have you all under this roof, so I completely skipped my own introduction. Please forgive me. I manage the daily operations of the estate and assist with whatever domestic needs arise around here. If any of you require absolutely anything at all during your stay, please do not hesitate to ask me directly." 

Her delivery was so professional it felt almost like she was addressing corporate stakeholders at a high-level business summit. 

And did she actually claim to be flustered? What could she possibly have to be nervous about when welcoming a family of drifters? 

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Jamey, who let out a quiet, knowing chuckle. Despite being only twelve years old, my youngest brother possessed an intellectual capacity that could easily outclass an adult in almost any academic discipline. 

"Don't worry about it at all," Tina intervened smoothly, her face still wearing a brilliant smile. "We're all experiencing a bit of situational anxiety ourselves. And I just have to say, this residence is absolutely spectacular." 

Linda’s shoulders visibly relaxed. She quickly disappeared into the adjacent wing, returning a few moments later accompanied by a pair of uniformed domestic staffers. They efficiently loaded the glass table with an assortment of casual refreshments—potato chips, sodas, corn chips, gourmet cupcakes, and various finger foods. 

I glanced sideways at Alastair, who was staring intently down at his mobile device. I knew for a fact the display was completely dark; he was simply using it as a shield, entirely trapped in his own thoughts as his mind desperately searched for a loophole to alter our current trajectory. 

Linda took a seat directly across from me, right next to Jamey, and let out a genuine laugh when he casually dropped a particularly graphic biological fact into the conversation. She kept the dialogue moving with effortless, standard pleasantries, and to my surprise, the vast majority of her inquiries were directed squarely at me. As our group systematically demolished the snack platters—we were entirely famished after the grueling trek—I did my absolute best to provide polite, well-rounded answers. 

She seemed incredibly kind and approachable, and I was already compiling a mental list of questions I wanted to ask her once the opportunity arose. But that would have to wait; a profound, bone-deep exhaustion was rapidly catching up to me. 

Linda eventually informed us that Mr. Brinkley had been called away to London for an emergency corporate summit, though he was expected to return to the states shortly. 

The update didn't particularly faze any of us. It wasn't as if we were collectively bursting with anticipation to meet the patriarch anyway. If I was being completely honest with myself, I felt like an unwanted intruder, as if we were forcefully occupying space in a stranger's private sanctuary—an unsettling sensation, even though the logic didn't hold up. Dad and Mr. Brinkley had been close friends since their undergraduate university days, maintaining a consistent, low-profile connection over the decades. However, we had never met the man in person, and our knowledge regarding his offspring was virtually nonexistent. 

"So, our dad mentioned that there’s a son living here..." Tina noted casually, carefully licking a dollop of vanilla frosting from her fingertips. 

Linda nodded instantly, her gaze drifting right back to my face. What exactly was she trying to read in my expression? I made a mental note to clear that mystery up the next time I caught her alone. 

"Oh, absolutely," Linda confirmed. "His name is Callum. And as it turns out, he’s actually in the exact same age bracket as you." 

Her eyes remained locked on me, forcing me to offer a polite, albeit entirely synthetic, smile in return. 

A sudden wave of discomfort hit the back of my throat, and I quickly averted my gaze, focusing entirely on the scuff marks on my combat boots. What exactly was she trying to orchestrate here? I could swear a distinct spark of calculated amusement was dancing in her almond-shaped blue eyes. 

"Wow, that's incredibly cool," Tina gushed, turning to nudge me. "Don't you think so, Aya?" 

I opted for total silence, refusing to take the bait. 

"He's currently out of the house at the moment," Linda added seamlessly, "but his schedule usually has him back on the property by seven in the evening." 

I offered a subtle shrug, still staring down at my shoelaces. Ultimately, his arrival time was completely irrelevant to me. Historically speaking, no guy had ever shown even a passing romantic interest in my direction, and it didn't bother me in the slightest. My mother used to consistently remind me that eventually, someone would cross my path who would cherish me entirely for my authentic self. I placed absolute faith in her wisdom. I had no issue playing the long game, regardless of how many years it took. Consequently, the daily schedule of this Callum character couldn't possibly mean less to me. 

Alastair abruptly excused himself from the room when his phone began vibrating against his palm, undoubtedly whispering a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was calling for providing him with a legitimate excuse to catch his breath outside the heavy atmosphere of the mansion. 

Linda seamlessly redirected her attention to Tina, continuing their upbeat banter. She even made an attempt to engage Jamey in standard small talk—which proved to be highly entertaining, given that his contribution consisted entirely of reciting highly specific, random historical data regardless of what question she posed. That was simply the standard operating procedure when attempting to converse with my younger brother. 

While I kept my own contributions brief and avoided asking digging questions, Tina seemed determined to systematically check off every single inquiry on her exhaustive mental list. 

"Callum is fundamentally a wonderful young man," Linda remarked thoughtfully, her tone shifting slightly. "But... well, the reality is that the parental separation impacted him deeply, and his demeanor shifted significantly after the divorce. Still, I hold onto the firm belief that he’ll eventually cross paths with someone capable of grounding him again. I have total faith in that." 

For reasons I couldn't entirely analyze, my head snapped up at her statement. It was likely a knee-jerk reaction to the heavy sensation of her gaze targeting me once more. Why did she consistently lock eyes with me whenever the topic of this boy's emotional rehabilitation came up? I began to seriously wonder if our hostess was missing a few screws. 

Eventually, I hit my absolute limit with the introductory social hour. I stood up from the plush leather sofa, doing my best to stifle a massive yawn that threatened to overpower me. 

"Oh, my goodness!" Linda noted, instantly picking up on the cue. "You all must be completely wiped out after a six-hour road trip. Come along, let me escort you up to your quarters." 

I nodded, offering a tired half-smile. With a swift sequence on her smartphone, Linda summoned a pair of security personnel who promptly gathered our assorted luggage. Alastair and Jamey slipped back into the house, falling into file behind Linda and Tina as we moved toward the main corridor. 

"Wait, do we actually get our own individual bedrooms?" Tina squeaked from the front of the line. "Oh my gosh, how many total rooms are engineered into this place? It feels like an absolute labyrinth." 

I leaned back just enough to throw a sharp, disciplinary glare over my shoulder, silently begging her to dial down the embarrassing display of astonishment. She offered a sheepish smile, shrugging her shoulders while silently mouthing, What did I do? 

"It's perfectly alright," Linda interjected, having easily witnessed the silent sibling exchange. "Her curiosity is completely natural." 

My cheeks instantly flared with a sudden rush of heat, and I gave a stiff nod, training my eyes straight ahead as we reached the foot of a massive, sweeping staircase and began our ascent. 

"To answer your question, Tina—yes, everyone has their own private space. The layout includes roughly twelve bedrooms in total. Additionally, if you follow the sliding glass panels at the rear of the ground floor, it leads directly out to the pool area. You’re more than welcome to head down there once you’ve had a chance to decompress." 

Tina let out a muffled shriek of delight directly behind me. "Thank you so much! I am absolutely hitting the water later." 

That was entirely predictable. My sister didn't suffer from a chronic aversion to revealing swimwear; I, however, absolutely did. The concept of wearing minimal clothing that exposed my skin was an immediate source of intense discomfort for me. I mentally resolved to avoid the pool deck entirely unless I could guarantee absolute solitude out there. 

Linda guided us along the first landing, pointing out two beautifully appointed suites designated for Jamey and Alastair. According to her architectural strategy, she figured the female contingent of the family would appreciate the isolation of the upper level, which featured direct access to an expansive rooftop terrace. Tina was instantly enamored by the setup, and the moment I stepped across the threshold of my assigned quarters, a similar feeling took hold. 

My private room was technically larger than the entire square footage of the house we had occupied back in Charleston. The sheer scale of it felt completely absurd and slightly intimidating. Yet, the moment I spotted the elegant French doors opening onto a quaint, private balcony, my chest swelled with a distinct, comforting warmth. 

"Is the space to your liking?" Linda inquired, a soft smile playing on her lips. 

Tina had been allocated an identical layout at the opposite end of the long corridor, positioned much closer to the primary staircase, leaving my room feeling like it existed in an entirely separate dimension of the estate. But the isolation suited me perfectly. 

I offered a genuine grin and a firm nod. "It’s absolutely breathtaking. Honestly, how could anyone find a reason to complain about this?" 

She stepped up to the exterior railing, mirroring my posture as she looked out over the vast canopy of dense trees and immaculate landscaping defining the perimeter of the property. "Very true," she murmured, her focus shifting toward a rustic, isolated structure situated right at the edge of the dense tree line. 

"What's the story behind that building down there?" I asked, my innate curiosity instantly piqued by the unconventional structure. 

When the silence stretched out a bit too long, I turned my head to find her staring at the cabin with a deeply solemn expression. "That is Callum’s domain," she stated simply, effectively planting a massive seed of intrigue in my mind. 

I refrained from pressing for additional details, instinctively sensing that she had zero intention of expanding on the topic regardless of what I asked. 

"Dinner is traditionally served promptly at six o'clock every evening," Linda noted, shifting back to her operational tone. "However, given your travel schedule tonight, we can easily adjust the timeline to whenever your family feels ready to eat." 

I smiled, arching a single eyebrow in amusement. "Why the sudden flexibility?" 

Linda let out a quiet chuckle, straightening her posture to face me directly. "Friday and Saturday nights are typically reserved for Callum's personal routines, you see. Especially when Mr. Brinkley is traveling internationally. During those windows, he grants the entire domestic staff a complete release from service for forty-eight hours." 

Before I could ask her to clarify exactly what "Callum's personal routines" entailed, the sharp ring of her mobile device cut through the air. 

A massive smile instantly lit up her face as she checked the display. "My husband," she explained, holding up the vibrating device in her perfectly manicured hand. "I suppose I’ll catch up with you all on Sunday morning? Just a reminder, I've left my direct contact information sitting on the main kitchen island. Don't hesitate to ring me if a single issue arises." 

I offered her a deeply grateful smile, and she turned, disappearing down the corridor. 

The afternoon sun was beating down directly onto the balcony, balanced by a crisp, slightly cool breeze while the faint sound of birds echoed from the distant woods. It was the kind of picturesque landscape you wanted to freeze in time and appreciate every single day. 

Turning back toward the interior, I left the French doors wide open, allowing the refreshing mountain air to completely flood my temporary sanctuary. 

I made a half-hearted attempt to unpack a few essential items from my duffel bag, but the sheer weight of the day's journey was catching up to me. A massive yawn forced my eyes to water. Abandoning my self-imposed mandate to remain productive and responsible, I collapsed onto the expansive queen-sized mattress, which was outfitted in crisp white linens and an incredibly soft, powder-blue blanket. 

As the quiet of the massive house settled in, a familiar ache took hold of my chest, and I realized just how desperately I already missed my father.