Chapter 15

Crystal

"We're finally home, Crystal." The soothing and familiar voice woke me from my slumber. For a moment, I was distorted as my head nursed a little headache. But when I came to my senses, I realized that it was my father who whispered in my ear, and the car had just pulled into the circular driveway in front of a vast house.

"H-home?" I muttered, rubbing my eyes and blinking, giving myself a better look outside. It was so huge the door couldn't even fit from the car's window view.

"Yes, home," my father said, patting my shoulder as he gazed out at the same house. "That's where I live for decade upon decade. From now on, that will be your home. And as my eldest daughter, you will inherit everything in it one day."

I should be overjoyed, shouldn't I? But deep in my heart, I couldn't find happiness, I felt like an empty shell, rather. It was only three weeks ago since my mother passed away and I chose to stay longer in our apartment. I thought by staying in the place where we used to share happy moments would ease the pain. But I figured, the longer I stayed in our apartment, the deeper my longing became. So, for the nth time around, my father had, at last, convinced me to move into this sprawling estate.

The front door opened and a silver-haired tall man dressed in a gray suit walked down the marble stairs. "Good morning, Mr. Wayne," he nodded as he greeted and opened the car's door for him.

My father stepped out of the car and assisted me afterward. From where I stood, I was able to scan my surrounding, filling my eyes with the panoramic sights—stonework patios, manicured hedges framing the entrance, prune trees, and healthy lawns.

I closed my eyes for a while. The air smelled of freshly cut grasses, roses, and mint.

"Crystal, this is Homer, the house's butler," Father said, about the man whom he was gazing at.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Crystal," Homer said. The small smile he displayed made the fine lines in the corner of his eyes more distinct, giving me the impression that he was in his middle 50s or early 60s. He looked way older than my father.

"Thank you. But please, just call me Crystal. I'm not comfortable with the title," I said, my hair on the back of my neck even standing for being uncomfortable. I may be starting to live in this fancy place, but I didn't want to indulge myself in such luxury. Deep in the pit of my mind, I was still convinced that I didn't need or deserved any of these.

Homer smiled, wider this time. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You are part of this house from this moment on. So, it is only fair to address to right like how I address Miss Carrie and Mrs. Wayne."

"But—"

"You will become used to it, Crystal," Father said, cutting intention to protest. "And you should start calling me Dad. Will you do that for me?"

I urged myself to smile. "Yes, D-Dad."

"That's my girl," he touched the side of my face. I couldn't deny the fact that I loved his warmth. I maybe had lost half of my life when Mama died. But I kept on reminding myself that I still have my father. He was part of me and the reason to continue living.

"I'll have Homer tour you around the house," Father… I mean, Dad said as we headed into the mansion. His voice started to echo when we reach the lobby. From here, I could almost see anything the house could offer. Staircase with golden railing, elevator on the first floor, long left and right wings on the second floor. A great chandelier hanging on the highest ceiling with lights that were shaped like water droplets…or diamond…or ice. Whatever.

"So, when do you want to start?" Dad asked in a proud voice. Of course, who wouldn't be so proud if your house was larger than life?

My gaze bounced between Dad and Homer. Their eyes were wide and bright. Seemed like they were really anticipating my response.

"I, um…" I bit my bottom lip and exhaled an exhausted air. "Can I start with… my room?"

"Your room?" Dad tilted his head. He seemed confused but still smiling at me. "You mean you want to see the rooms?"

"I mean, I wanna go to my room for now," I said. "The house is undeniably perfect. But I'm quite exhausted because of the three-hour trip. Anyway, I have all the time in the world to give myself a tour. I just… all I want for now is eight hours of sleep. If that's okay with you."

"Of course, my child. You can have your rest and we'll go around when you're ready. I'll have the maids prepare something for you to eat if you're not in the mood yet to join us for dinner." Dad circled his arms around my shoulder and turned to the butler. "Homer, will you transfer the luggage to her room?"

"Right away, Sir," Homer said, and advanced to the stairs with the luggage in both of his hands. They were heavy but the weight did not seem to affect him as his posture remained straight while carrying my things with no effort.

***

I had no idea how long have I been staring at the ceiling of my room which was painted with flowers, sunflowers in particular. Did I get some sleep? Honestly, no. That was why I felt a little guilt in my chest when I told my father that I was tired. Maybe I wasn't yet ready to face the rest of the family. Especially how Erik had described my father's wife and their daughter. Their attitudes reminded me of my workmate, Pat who used to make my work a little difficult. I wished I wouldn't be facing the same problem in this house.

Speaking of Erik—I wondered how was he doing now. He disappeared the moment he accompanied me into the car back in my old apartment.

A series of heavy knocks made me get up from the bed. 'Who could that be? Is it the maid who Dad asks to deliver food to my room?' I frowned and said, "Come on in. The door isn't locked."

The knocking continued until it no longer sounded knocking. It seemed like the person outside wanted to crush the door.

My heart started to race as I stepped toward the door. When I opened it, my breathing halted, seeing a blonde girl leaning against the door frame. Her icy blue eyes stared directly into my hazel ones fiercely.

"Um, hi?" I wanted to ask if she was the one to deliver my food. But she didn't look like a house staff—she didn't look like a maid at all. Her aura screamed pride the moment she stood straight, towering me inches more.

"You." She narrowed her eyes as she scanned me from head to toe. "Who gives you permission to occupy this room?"

I blinked twice, my mind clouding with confusion. "Dad?" I said, with a bit of hesitation in my tone.

"Oh…" Her trimmed brow raised. "So, you're Daddy's bastard daughter."