Sherilyn's POV
My family mansion has always felt cold and empty, no matter the amount of soft, orange light cast by crystal chandeliers or enormous fireplaces roaring with real flames.
Ever since I was brought to this house on Christmas Eve twenty years ago, nothing about this place has ever felt like home.
But there is nothing surprising about it. After all, I am just an adoptive daughter – a secret my father's first love kept from him for three years until she died, leaving me in the hands of total strangers I had to call my family from that moment on.
And no matter how much time I spent here, no matter how many times I called that woman "Mother", – there has never been anything motherly about her.
Not for me, at least.
"Miss Sherilyn," Bernard, the head butler of the mansion, calls my name, his tone quiet and sweet. "I brought the suitcase you've asked for. Are you traveling somewhere?"
"Yes... You can say so," I smile awkwardly, not really sure whether it's a lie myself.
In truth, I really want to go. I think I've played house with those people far too long, and it's time to end this game once and for all.
I have only been able to endure this masquerade for the sake of my late father, who, in turn, made a promise to my late mother to take care of me and give me the life I deserved.
Well, I don't think that years of neglect, subtle bullying, and dismissal are something I truly deserved.
I open the door to my bedroom upstairs, and a small, stifled sigh escapes my lips right away. I only spent a couple of days away from this space, and now, I am planning to leave it forever.
It feels surreal.
I shift my eyes to the old bed in the middle of the room – the bedspread is crisp and new, courtesy of Bernard, of course. Even though he had no idea when I'd come back, he still ordered my sheets to be changed every single day.
Then, my gaze falls on the small picture in the corner of my desk. My father and I. The only family picture I have.
There, in the autumn forest, amongst the burning foliage of oaks and birches, he is still alive, and I am still smiling.
In the top right corner, there is a small, old ID picture of my mother, which I cut out of her passport soon after she died. It's the only thing I brought with me into this house. It's the only thing that is left of her in this entire world.
With another sigh – heavier this time – I take the picture together with the frame and carefully put it in my backpack. If this house were on fire, and I only had time to save one thing, this framed memento would be it.
And suddenly, I see everything clearly again as if someone has just given me entirely new eyes with a new perspective attached to them.
I am leaving empty-handed, the same way I was brought into this house twenty years ago.
And strangely, I feel zero regrets.
The wedding band slides off my finger with an eerie ease, like a cruel reminder that it did not belong to me in the first place, even though it's just a cheap alternative for the real deal.
Just like I was.
And so, I leave. No suitcase, no food – just my passport and enough money to get by, and a strange confidence inside me that tells me that everything will be okay.
"Miss Sherilyn," Bernard halts me at the door, "have you called for a car service?"
I blink, pretty sure I haven't. "No?"
"There is a town car at the front gate waiting for you," the man continued. "The gentleman inside says he is here to pick you up."
"Really?"
I am not the one to believe in fate, but this strange coincidence can hardly be called ordinary. Still confused, I offer Bernard one last hug and leave the house, carefully marching toward the sleek black car waiting in the driveway.
"Sherry," an unknown man peeks through the window – handsome to the point that it feels unfair – and offers me a friendly nod. "Looks like I'm right on time."
"Excuse me?" I cock a confused brow at him. "Do we know each other?"
"I know you," he says, like it's the most normal thing to admit. "My name is Tyler Johnes. I used to work with your late father. He left an order for the new company president to come see you once he gets the title."
His big hand sticks out the car window – a small, black business card stuck between his fingers.
"Emerald Group..?" I read aloud, my confusion only growing. "It's my father's first business venture. So you are––"
"Yes, the new president of your father's first company," the man admits without hesitation, another arrogant grin on his handsome face.
"You seem to be heading out somewhere," he then continues, sticking his head farther out, "do you need a lift? We can discuss why I came looking for you on the way."
Do I need a lift? I repeated to myself, clutching the glossy business card in my hand. Sure, I guess, why not? I was planning to go to the airport and jump on the first available flight, so this will at least save me cab money.
"I am going to the airport – mind taking me there?"
Tyler opens the door, taking a better look at me and my close surroundings. "No luggage?"
"No," I shake my head rather awkwardly. "I... travel light."
"That's fine," he smirks, sliding farther into the car, "you can get new things once we arrive."
Without giving it a second thought, I get into his car and close the door. The driver takes off right away, but I don't feel anything even remotely similar to anxiety.
"So, Mr. Johnes," I then say, looking the stranger dead in the eyes. "Where are we going?"
"Paris," he says just as confidently. "And call me Tyler. After all, we are about to get very close."