Chapter 2: Old Stuffed Toys

*Olivia*

I hoped that that was especially true today.

“I’m sorry that I can’t stay tonight,” Charlotte said as I was dropped off in front of my parents’ house. She hugged me goodbye through the window. “Something urgent came up, but I’ll see you soon, alright? I hope you have a nice reunion with your family.”

“Thank you, Charlotte,” I said, genuinely grateful for my best friend.

I waved as I watched the car turn the corner before I headed up to the house where I grew up.

The maid’s eyes widened when she saw me. Her name was Betty, and she had cared for me since I was little. She was like a grandmother to me. She hugged me fiercely, patting my back affectionately.

“Your mother is upstairs,” she said. “Poor thing hasn’t been sleeping very well. Maybe you’ll be able to cheer her up. I’ve been trying my best, but even my special chicken noodle soup doesn’t seem to be helping much. And she has always loved my chicken noodle soup.”

I patted Betty on the shoulder. “I’ll take care of it, Betty,” I said. “Thank you so much for taking care of my parents all this time. Knowing that you were here with them made it much easier for me to study in Spain.”

I headed up the stairs, and it wasn’t long before I found my mom heading down the hall toward her bedroom.

My heart lurched as I looked at her. In the thin sweater she was wearing, she looked so small. Although she was usually tall and dignified, she looked like a shell of herself.

“Mom.”

My mother’s back stiffened, and she slowly turned to face me, her eyes growing wide. She was about to smile, but her eyes began to water.

“Oh, Mom,” I said with a sigh as I hurried toward her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

She drew in a shuddery breath. “I’m alright, dear,” she said. She hugged me tightly and then gently pushed me away slightly so she could look into my face. “And so is your father. I just got off the phone with his doctor, and they are doing everything they can.”

My stomach did a flip. “He’s really doing well?” I asked fretfully. That was hard to believe, given the diagnosis, but I would hang on to any little piece of hope that I could.

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” my mother said with a frown. “He is sick, that is true, but he will have the very best care. I just got off the phone with the doctor, and they are getting him all set up on a care plan. He will be starting chemotherapy soon. They assured me they would do everything they could for him, so try not to worry.”

“Try” was really the keyword there. I could try not to worry about everything I wanted, but I didn’t think I would be very successful at it.

I was so busy chatting with my mom that I didn’t notice someone approaching us.

Mom looked over my head and smiled at the newcomer. I swallowed before turning to find myself face-to-face with Byron.

It was quiet for a long moment as Byron and I stared at one another. He was exactly as I remembered, with his intense eyes and dark blonde hair.

He wasn’t just my brother; he was the person I knew best and who knew the most about me. Even though we kept in touch over the past five years, there was a definite rift between us that caused my chest to tighten.

He was clearly the person I knew best. We had called every week for the past five years, but at this point, a sense of strangeness grew between us.

“Vivi,” he said after several moments of silence. Even after all this time, he still tried to talk to me the way he used to when I was a kid.

A pang of acidity ran through me at the sound of the familiar title, and I turned my gaze away from him, calling out his name.

He frowned at me. “Why didn’t you ask me to come pick you up?” he said in a smooth voice.

“I didn't want to bother you at work,” I muttered, staring at the floor and lowering my gaze.

He followed my gaze, watching how I lowered my eyes to the floor.

Harper's voice cut through the silence, and when she spoke, it was more to me than to Byron. "It warms my heart to have both my children here. You were such a happy little girl, and Byron used to spoil you rotten. Remember that? You used to follow him around everywhere and knew you could get away with just about anything with him protecting you. You were quite the spitfire."

"Now,” my adopted mother continued, looking at Byron. “She's unusually quiet."

However, when former relatives reunite, being overly calm would lead to a lack of intimacy. Even the way we talked to each other had become unfamiliar.

My mother approached me and took my hand in hers, apologizing, "Since you left for Spain, you haven’t even come back for holidays. I wonder if it’s because you’re still hurting over what happened five years ago, or perhaps it’s simply the town itself that brings you bad memories.”

"But it was us who have caused you suffering over the last five years."

It was true that I had changed a lot since I left. The last time I saw Byron was on my birthday. I was alone in a rented house in Spain with a fever, and Byron had flown over to take care of me. "Mom, let's not talk about the past."

Byron looked at me momentarily and said, "Vivi's getting rusty with me."

"No, I'm just ......"

"Well," Byron pinched my cheek as he had done with me as a child, "Maybe that’s because you're not a little sister with braces anymore but a youthful, beautiful city woman."

Now, it was my turn to try and lower the tension. “I think I’ll go visit Father,” I announced to everyone.

My mother stepped forward. “I think it would be best if we visited your father,” she said and swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry that you’re finally here, and this is what you’re coming home to.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “It’s alright, Mom. Please don’t worry.”

Mom nodded, but then I saw her eyes fill with tears. “Excuse me,” she said, walking out of the room and leaving Byron and me alone.

Byron and I were quiet for several moments. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept mine averted, unsure what to say after so long now that we were alone.

He held his hand out to me. “Let me walk you to your room.”

I sucked in a sharp breath when I stepped into my old bedroom. There were still stuffed toys on the bed and old band posters from my childhood on the wall.

I laughed and pointed at a photo. “This was from right before I was adopted,” I told him. “Please ignore my bird’s nest. Apparently, I didn’t own a brush at the time. It took a while for me to get adopted, and it was you who took my hand and asked if I wanted to join your family.”

I told him about how I ran five years ago because of Byron.

“I remember,” Byron said with a grin. “You were so tiny. I felt like I could throw you anywhere I wanted, like a toy.”

“You did,” I said with a laugh.

Byron laughed and then squeezed my hand, which he was still holding. I took his hand earlier because he always held my hand. Even when I was a teenager, he still held it like an older brother would have his little sister’s hand.

This time, though, it felt different. I took a step back, not wanting him to think I was returning any feelings other than familial.

Dinner was a bit tense, but it still felt good to be sitting around a table with my family again. After we ate, we would go to see my dad.

“Byron was the one who suggested that we have salmon tonight,” my mom said conversationally.

I looked up in surprise. Byron remembered that salmon was my favorite. I felt a pang of emotion, wishing desperately that we could return to how things were before I went to Spain.

I just wanted my caring big brother back, minus all the tension.

I walked between Mom and Byron as we made our way to the hospital. It was dark, adding to the somber reason for our visit.

We were stopped by powerful-looking men in black before we even got to the front door. They had appeared from out of the shadows in the most menacing way, their dark eyes piercing through us as we stood frozen in front of them.

I tensed immediately, my eyes darting between them, wondering what on earth they could want from us in a place like this.

Byron stepped in front of me and Mom protectively.

“Hand over the money you owe,” one intoned. “Or we are auctioning off your precious company.”

You’ve got the wrong guy,” my mother insisted, her voice strong and authoritative. If I hadn’t held her shaking hand, I would have also been fooled into thinking she wasn’t afraid.

“I don’t think so,” one of the men growled, taking another menacing step toward my brother. “Now, hand over the 200 million dollars nicely, and we can leave peacefully.”

The guys were closing in on us now, and I held my ground, glaring heatedly at them.

Byron stepped closer to me, shielding me with his body, warning the other guys not to touch me.

My mom started to panic, screaming and crying now, trying to insist that the guys needed to leave because there had been a misunderstanding.

“Ethan O’connell is the man you are looking for,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. She gestured wildly at the men. “He’s the one who victimized our company. Please just go and settle the score with him.”

The men didn’t budge, even leaning closer to us. They were so close now that I could almost see their eyes behind their dark sunshades.

We aren’t going anywhere until we’ve collected some cash,” the largest one, who appeared to be the leader, intoned at us. “As I’ve already stated, if we do not get money today, we will auction off the company. So you had best comply if you don’t want to end up on the streets like the rats you are.”