Page 8 of Bittersweet Legacy

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.

---