Christiana’s POV
The aroma of garlic and rosemary wafted through the small kitchen of my hotel suite as I stirred the pot of pasta sauce simmering on the stove. Ethan and Emma were curled up on the couch watching a cartoon, their giggles and chatter filling the suite. It was one of those rare quiet evenings, and I was savoring it.
The iPad propped on the counter buzzed, and Alex’s name flashed on the screen. I wiped my hands on a towel, swiping to answer. His face appeared, sharp and handsome as always, though his expression held something softer tonight. He looked… contented.
“Hey,” I greeted with a smile, adjusting the iPad so he could see me better. “How’s your evening going?”
“It’s been…eventful,” Alex replied, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. He leaned back in his chair, the city skyline visible through the window behind him.
“Eventful?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I turned back to the stove. “That sounds suspicious. What have you been up to?” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not going to believe this, Christiana. I barely believe it myself.”
I glanced at the screen, intrigued. “Alright, now you’ve got my attention. Spill it.”
Alex leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. His expression grew serious, though a trace of awe lingered in his eyes. “I have a brother.”
I froze, the wooden spoon clattering against the pot as I turned to face him fully. “What? A brother?” My voice rose in disbelief. “Alex, what are you talking about?”
“A half–brother,” he clarified, his tone steady but weighted. “His name is Sebastian. He showed up at my office today, completely out of the blue.”
“Sebastian?” Lechoed, shaking my head as I tried to process his words. “You’ve never mentioned a brother before. How is that even possible?”
Alex exhaled deeply, running his fingers over his jaw. “It’s a long story. My father….he had an affair with an Italian woman when I was barely five. I didn’t know about it until I was ten. I found out by accident…overheard a conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear.”
I stared at him, my mind spinning. “Ten? Alex, you were just a child. How did you even handle something like that?”
“I didn’t, not at first,” he admitted, his gaze distant as if recalling those years. “But even at that age, I knew I couldn’t tell my mother. You know how Madam Margaret is. If she had found out, she would’ve set hell loose. She would’ve destroyed his reputation, the woman, the child…everyone involved.”
I nodded slowly, imagining the storm that revelation would have unleashed. “So, you kept it a secret?”
“For years,” Alex said, his voice tinged with regret. “After my father died, I tried to find Sebastian. I was older then, and I wanted to connect with him. But he didn’t want anything to do with me. He was angry, bitter. He resented my father, resented me.”
I could see the pain in his eyes, the guilt he carried. “And now? What changed?”
He smiled faintly, a glimmer of hope breaking through the shadows. “Now he’s back. After all these years, he came to me. He’s been through hell, Christiana. Living hand to mouth, struggling just to survive. His mother…she passed away last month.”
My heart ached at his words. “Alex,” I whispered, setting the spoon down as I leaned closer to the screen. “I don’t even know
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what to say.”
“I do,” he said firmly, his jaw tightening. “I’m going to make things right for him. I’ve already started. He’s staying around. I’ve given him everything he needs…clothes, a home, money. He’ll never have to struggle again.”
I couldn’t help but smile, pride swelling in my chest. “That’s incredible, Alex. Truly. You didn’t have to do all that, but did. You’ve got such a good heart.”
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He shrugged, though his eyes softened at my praise. “He’s my brother, Christiana. My blood. He deserves to be treated like it. I just wish…I wish I’d found him sooner. Maybe things would’ve been different.”
I stepped away from the stove, wiping my hands as I sat at the counter, facing the iPad. “Don’t blame yourself for the past, Alex. You’re doing everything you can now, and that’s what matters.”
He nodded, though his shoulders remained tense. “I asked him to bring his mother here too. I wanted to meet her, to show her the same respect. But…” He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. “She’s gone.”
I placed a hand over my heart, my voice soft. “I’m so sorry, Alex. For him, for you.”
“He told me about the funeral,” Alex continued, his gaze dropping to his hands. “He had no one. No money, no support. He buried her alone.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. “That poor boy. He’s lucky to have you now, Alex. You’ll give him the family he’s been missing.” “I will,” he vowed, his voice strong and unwavering. “I’m going to give him everything I can, everything he deserves. And I won’t let anyone, including my mother…stand in the way of that
I laughed softly, despite the heaviness of the conversation. “Oh, Madam Margaret is going to lose her mind when she finds
out.”
Alex smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s a bridge I’ll cross when I get to it. For now, Sebastian comes first.” “You’re an amazing brother, Alex,” I told him, my voice brimming with sincerity. “He’s lucky to have you.”
His smile widened, and for the first time that evening, the tension seemed to ease from his features. “And I’m lucky to have you, Christiana. You always know the right thing to say.”
I chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s because I know you. Now, go spend time with Sebastian. And don’t let Madam Margaret catch wind of this just yet.”
“I won’t,” he promised, a spark of humor lighting his eyes. “Talk soon?”
“Always,” I said with a smile, ending the call as warmth filled my chest.
Alex had his flaws, but moments like this reminded me of the man he truly was…compassionate, loyal, and deeply loving. And I couldn’t be prouder.
I had barely hung up the FaceTime call with Alex and returned to stirring the pot when a knock sounded at the door. I frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. My suite was secure, and no one could get past the bodyguards unless they were authorized. Whoever it was, they had to be someone close.
Wiping my hands on a towel, I walked cautiously toward the door. My pulse quickened slightly, not out of fear, but out of curiosity. Who could it be at this hour?
When I opened the door, I froze.
There, standing in the hallway, was Daniel’s grandmother. Her face was streaked with tears, her gray hair disheveled in a way I’d never seen before. She clutched her handbag tightly, her knuckles white, and when her red–rimmed eyes met mine, she whispered my name.
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“Christiana…” Her voice eracked, and then she broke down, sobbing. “Oh, Christiana.”
“Mrs. Brooks!” I exclaimed, stunned. I immediately stepped aside, ushering her into the suite and closing the door behind her. My heart raced as I helped her to the couch. “What’s wrong What happened?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her frail hands trembled as she clutched my arm, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. My mind raced. Daniel’s grandmother had always been composed, strong, and dignified. Seeing her like this was unsettling.
I turned to my children, who were watching us from the couch with wide, curious eyes. Their cartoon had paused, forgotten in the background. “Ethan, Emma,” I said gently, kneeling to their level. “Can you both go to your room for a little while? I need to talk to Mrs. Brooks, okay?”
“But mom..” Ethan began, glancing at the crying woman.
“Please,” I said softly but firmly, stroking his cheek. “I promise I’ll explain later.”
They nodded reluctantly, their confusion evident, and padded off toward the bedroom, glancing back over their shoulders. Once the door clicked shut, I turned back to Mrs. Brooks, kneeling beside her.
“Mrs. Brooks, please tell me what’s wrong,” I urged, taking her cold hands in mine.
She looked at me, her eyes filled with desperation. “It’s Daniel,” she said, her voice trembling. “My grandson…he’s not himself anymore, Christiana. He’s…he’s a shadow of who he used to be.”
A pang/shot through my chest at her words, sharp and sudden, like a dagger. I steadied myself, though my hands instinctively tightened on hers. “What do you mean? What’s happening to him?”
She took a shaky breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He’s always drinking. Every day, every night. He locks himself in his room, refuses to eat, refuses to talk to anyone. I’ve tried everything, but he’s slipping away from me. From all of us.” Her voice cracked again, and she clutched my hands tighter. “I’m scared, Christiana. I’m scared he’s dying.”
The pain in her voice mirrored the ache that bloomed in my chest. My mind raced, images of Daniel flashing before me…. his confident smile, his warmth, the way he used to look at me like I was his whole world. And now, he was falling apart.
Because of me.
I swallowed hard, guilt settling heavily in my stomach. Daniel hadn’t been like this before. He had been strong, vibrant, full of life. And now, the thought that he was drowning in his pain, in his grief over what we once had…it hurt more than I wanted to admit.
“Mrs. Brooks,” I began, my voice shaking slightly, “I don’t know if…”
“Please,” she interrupted, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Christiana. Come with me. Come see him. Maybe if he sees you, if he hears your voice, he’ll stop. He’ll change. You’re the only one who can save him.”
I stared at her, speechless. Her words hung heavy in the air, the weight of her plea pressing down on me. She was desperate, begging me to do something I wasn’t sure I could do.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My throat tightened, and my chest felt heavy. How could face him after everything? How could I bear to see him like that, knowing I was the reason for his pain?
But as I looked into Mrs. Brooks‘ tearful eyes,
Couldn’t bring myself to say no.
“Mrs. Brooks,” I said softly, squeezing her hands. “It’s late. I can’t go with you right now. But I promise, I’ll come tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” she whispered, her voice trembling with hope and hesitation.
I nodded firmly, though my heart was racing. “Yes. First thing tomorrow. I’ll come. I’ll talk to him. I’ll do whatever I can to help.
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She searched my face, as if trying to gauge my sincerity. Slowly, she nodded, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank you, she said, her voice barely audible. “Thank you, Christiana. I don’t know what else to do. You’re my last hope.”
I helped her to her feet, walking her to the door. She still looked fragile, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes now, faint but present.
As I closed the door behind her, I leaned against it, exhaling deeply. My heart was heavy, guilt and uncertainty swirling within me. Daniel was hurting, and I was partly to blame.
But tomorrow, I would fa
ce him. No matter how painful it was, I owed him that much. And maybe, just maybe, I could help him find his way back to himself.
