7
981 Words
Emma's POV
"I think you have the wrong person," I said, taking a step back. This guy had to be confused. I didn't have a grandfather. I'd been in foster care since I was five, and Mary always told me my parents died in a car accident with no other family left.
The driver pulled out an old photograph. "Is this your mother, Miss Hayes?"
I looked at the picture and felt my stomach drop. The woman staring back at me looked exactly like me. Same eyes, same nose, same everything. "Where did you get this?"
"From my employer, Mr. Rivers. Your grandfather."
"Look, I don't know what kind of scam this is, but—"
"I understand your skepticism." He reached into his jacket again and pulled out another photo. "But what about this one?"
This time it was a baby picture. My mother holding an infant - me - both of us smiling. I had a similar photo, except mine only showed my mom. This one had my father in it too.
I stared at the photo, turning it over in my hands. It felt real, looked real. "How do I know these aren't fake?"
"You don't. But would I really go through all this trouble for nothing? What would I gain from lying to you?"
He had a point. I looked him over again - clean uniform, polite manner, expensive car. He didn't look like someone running a con. "Okay, let's say you're telling the truth. Why now? Why find me now?"
"That's a conversation for Mr. Rivers, miss. Will you come with me?"
I hesitated, still clutching my bag. Every instinct told me this was crazy, but something about that photo... "If this is some kind of kidnapping scheme, you picked the wrong target. I don't have any money."
He actually laughed. "Miss Hayes, if someone wanted to kidnap you, they wouldn't send a driver in uniform with a company car."
Fair enough. "Fine. But if this turns out to be weird, I'm calling the police."
***
The drive took about two hours. We pulled up to a house that was bigger than anything I'd ever seen - bigger than the Sterling place, which I thought was huge. Iron gates opened automatically, revealing gardens and a fountain.
"This way, Miss Hayes," the driver said, opening my door.
Before we even reached the front door, it opened. An older man stepped out - tall, with silver hair and kind eyes that looked familiar. Really familiar.
"Emma," he said quietly, like he was afraid I might disappear.
I stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do with my hands. "Um. Hi."
"Please, call me Grandpa." His voice cracked a little. "You look so much like her. Like your mother at your age."
The silence stretched between us until I couldn't stand it anymore. "So... you're really my grandfather?"
"I am. Would you like to come inside? I have coffee, or tea if you prefer."
Inside, the house was impressive but not flashy. He led me to a living room where a photo album sat on the coffee table.
"Coffee would be good," I said, settling onto the couch.
He poured from a pot that was already waiting. "I imagine this is all very overwhelming. You probably have a lot of questions."
"Just a few hundred." I took the coffee gratefully. "Like why I've never heard of you before today."
He opened the photo album carefully. "Let me show you something first."
Page after page of photos - my mother as a baby, a little girl, a teenager. My grandparents when they were younger. Family dinners, birthdays, holidays. A whole life I never knew existed.
"She looks happy," I said softly.
"She was. Until..." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Until I drove her away."
"What do you mean?"
"I disapproved of your father. Made my feelings very clear. Your mother left this house when she married him, and we never spoke again." His voice was heavy with regret. "Pride is a terrible thing, Emma."
"But when they died, why didn't you—"
"I tried to find you. Spent years searching. But your father's friend Mary had taken you in, and she..." He sighed. "She thought she was protecting you from the man who had rejected your parents. I don't blame her for that."
I set down my coffee cup. "Mary never told me any of this."
"She was keeping a promise to your father. I only found you recently because..." He hesitated. "Because I hired people to look for you after I saw your name in the society pages. Emma Sterling."
My chest tightened. "You know about Alexander."
"I know enough."
"How could you possibly know that?"
"Because I've been having you watched. Not stalked," he added quickly when he saw my expression. "Just... monitored. To make sure you were safe."
"That's..." I didn't know whether to be grateful or creeped out. "That's a lot to process."
"I know. And I know it probably seems strange that I waited this long to contact you. But I wanted to wait until you were ready. Until you'd made the choice to leave a situation that wasn't good for you."
I looked at him sitting there, this stranger who was somehow family. "So what happens now?"
"Now? Now you decide what you want to do. You can leave, go back to your life, and I'll respect that. Or..." He gestured around the room. "You can stay. Get to know your family. Your mother's room is exactly as she left it, if you'd like to see it."
"You kept her room?"
"We never stopped hoping you'd come home someday."
The word 'home' hit me harder than I expected. I'd never really had one of those. "Could I... could I see it?"
He smiled, warm and genuine. "I'd love to show you."
- Writer
