Chapter 21 Back In California
ANNA'S POV
Our private plane finally touched down, and I stretched in my seat, feeling my limbs shake off the stiffness from the long flight. The early morning sunlight poked through the window and hit my face directly, bright and warm. I blinked at it, a small smile forming — I must’ve fallen asleep somewhere over Nevada or Arizona. We left so early this morning, and everything was a blur while boarding. Now here I was, back in California after five long years.
I got up from my seat, smoothing my hair back as I walked down the aisle. The doors opened, and the stairs unfolded. Stepping onto the tarmac felt strange, the air was thicker, warmer, and familiar in a way that made my chest tighten. A weird mix of nostalgia and something else I couldn’t name. Our luggage was already being collected, moved into the convoy of blacked-out cars waiting in formation like a presidential escort. Pretty dramatic if you asked me but then again, that was the Quinn name in this city.
The city of California didn’t seem to have changed much since I last saw it. The same skyline with its spires, the same palm trees lining the horizon, swaying lazily in the breeze. I noticed some construction sites still fenced off, the same ones that were there five years ago. Some people just start things they can’t finish. It’s always amusing and a little sad to see half-done projects left to rot.
As our car drove on, I couldn’t help but look out the tinted window and notice the posters on buildings and billboards. They were everywhere. They all had James’ name on them, some had his face too. I frowned as one caught my eye.
‘James Reed Medical Project keeps changing lives for the better even after 5 years.’
The photo showed him in a white coat, probably staged, probably rehearsed. I couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at my lips. That should’ve been me on those billboards. That should’ve been my name in lights.
But whatever.
That wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was — how could James even live with himself? How could he wake up every morning and look in the mirror knowing he was soaking up praise for work he didn’t do? Work he literally stole. A real man wouldn’t be able to live with that kind of guilt. But then again, James wasn’t a real man. Not then, not ever. He was a coward. And I knew, eventually, this little game of his would come to a very ugly end.
The car came to a slow stop, and I looked out the window again. I blinked. We were at the house. Our house.
A smile crept across my face, a real one this time. The building looked the same. Classic and expensive, the kind of home they show in luxury magazines. Five years ago, when they first brought me here, I thought I was kidnapped. I mean, who goes from living in a tiny room at their mom’s place to this kind of mansion in less than 12 hours? Then once they explained everything, who they were, who I was, it took me weeks to accept it.
“It was about time I came back here,” Daniel said, stepping out beside me. He closed the car door with a soft thud and stared up at the house with something in his eyes — something heavy.
Right then the front doors swung open, and the maids rushed out in two perfect rows, lining up at the entrance. I raised an eyebrow, a bit confused. What was all this?
“Welcome back Mr. and Mrs. Quinn, we’re all glad you’re back, and we have missed you very much,” they said in unison.
Huh? Did they practice this before we arrived? The thought made me almost laugh. The little synchronized performance was honestly impressive, in a weird way.
“I’m very sure the head maid is behind this,” Daniel whispered to me with a slight smirk. “Because I had no idea this was happening.”
My dad didn’t respond to the maids. He just walked straight to the door, face expressionless, eyes staring at the ground. My mom silently followed, her lips pressed in a thin line. I didn’t blame him. I’d act the same way if I had just lost my best friend.
The maids began helping unload our luggage, hauling bags and boxes into the house. We walked in behind them. Nothing had changed. Not really. The house looked exactly as it did five years ago. The maids did a good job keeping it clean, maybe too good. It almost felt like we stepped back in time. The chairs were still the same shade of cream, the TV still hung perfectly on the wall, and the floors and walls looked even shinier than I remembered. Everything smelled like lemon and fresh laundry.
“Isabel, darling, it’s so good to see you again, come give your mom a hug.” My mom’s voice broke through my quiet study of the room.
Isabel?
That’s right. Mom mentioned she would be here when we got back.
I turned my head and saw her. She stood near the staircase, smiling warmly. She had red hair, which didn’t come from either Mom or Dad, and she was just a little taller than I was. She practically radiated a soft, sweet energy. You could see it in her eyes.
“It’s good to see you again, Mom,” she said, pulling away from the hug.
Then her eyes immediately shifted to Dad.
“Daddy, I’ve missed you so much,” she said, crossing the room in a few quick steps to wrap her arms around him.
From the way she called Dad daddy, with that soft voice and emotion behind it, I could tell she was a big daddy’s girl. The kind that always sat on his lap growing up. The kind he never said no to.
“I’ve missed you too, dear,” Dad said, his voice softer now.
“I’m so sorry about Uncle Larry. It broke my heart when I heard the news,” Isabel said, pulling away to look up at him.
I stayed quiet during the whole interaction, shifting my weight from one foot to another. I waited, expecting her to introduce herself to me, or for someone to introduce me to her. That was usually how it worked, right? New family members, new introductions?
As the only girl in the family for years, I’m sure she would be glad to find out she now has a sister.