Chapter 4: the beginning before the beginning

After the flight

the car smelled like leather and wealth.

Lian sat stiffly in the back seat, her fingers twisting around the fraying strap of her faded brown bag. Her eyes darted from building to building as they sped past — steel towers, endless blinking lights, sidewalks filled with hurried people in fine coats and glossy shoes. She felt like she'd been dropped into someone else's life.

Not even twenty-four hours ago, she was crouched in the back of a grocery store, mopping floors that smelled of sour milk. Now she was being chauffeured through a city of silver, sitting on seats that felt too smooth, too soft, too wrong.

The silence in the car pressed around her ears like fog. She gripped the bag tighter, pressing it into her lap like a shield. This isn't real, she kept thinking. This can't be real.

But it was.

And her thoughts kept returning to Louis.

He had tried not to cry. His fists had stayed clenched at his sides, lips trembling as she knelt and kissed his cheek. She had told him she'd come back. That she'd write. That she'd call. That she would make him proud.

But deep inside, Lian had wondered—how do you make promises with nothing to back them up?

She left him in the care of Mrs. James, the kindly woman next door who had fed them warm soup on cold nights and always called Lian "daughter" like it was second nature. It was all she could do. And now, all she had left was a phone and hope.

Rain misted across the car window as the vehicle slowed, then stopped in front of a gate so grand it looked like it guarded a palace. The words "VANCE TECH INTERNATIONAL" were etched in silver across black iron bars, the lettering clean and cold.

Lian stared.

The building beyond was unreal — glass that shimmered like starlight and curved steel walls that reached up into the clouds. It looked less like a company and more like the future itself.

The driver stepped out and came around to open her door.

"Miss Jamiel," he said.

She blinked and stepped out slowly, suddenly aware of her clothes. The hoodie she wore had lint and patches, her sneakers were stained and old, and her hair, though freshly combed, was still recovering from what her aunt had done to it. She felt like a smudge in a perfect painting.

Inside, the building gleamed.

Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Tall glass doors that opened on their own. Everything was white and gold and far too clean.

No one stared at her. No one sneered or whispered. They just… walked past her. As though she belonged.

She didn't.

A woman in a burgundy dress coat approached, heels clicking softly against the tiles. She held a tablet in one hand and smiled with the kind of politeness that didn't feel quite real.

"Miss Lian Jamiel?"

Lian nodded.

"Welcome. You'll be living in one of our company estate apartments during your internship. Orientation starts tomorrow. But for now, let's get you settled in."

The drive to the apartment didn't take long. When they reached the estate grounds, the driver keyed them in through another security gate, and Lian saw buildings more elegant than most hotels she'd cleaned. They were tall, with soft lighting and quiet balconies that overlooked gardens trimmed like artwork.

When she stepped inside her assigned apartment, she forgot how to breathe.

Soft grey walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the entire skyline. Plush cream-colored couches. A marble kitchen island with fruits already arranged in a bowl. The bedroom door was open, revealing a king-sized bed with sheets that looked like clouds.

She dropped her bag by the door.

She didn't move. Just stood there, rain still on her shoulders, staring. It was too much. Too sudden. Too good.

On the table sat a letter with her name on it, handwritten in careful script.

She opened it slowly.

 "This is your fresh start.

Make it count.

A.V."

She reread it twice. Then once more.

Fresh start.

Was this truly hers? Was she even allowed to believe that?

Gratitude sat heavy on her chest. But so did fear. It was like stepping into someone else's shoes, and knowing they were too big and too expensive, and at any moment, someone would come screaming that they were not hers to wear.

---

Elsewhere…

Salim hadn't spoken all morning.

Not a single word. Not a groan. Not a complaint.

Elian sat across from him, flipping through news updates, reading voice notes from Jena aloud, offering tidbits of family drama, anything to break the silence.

Nothing worked.

The nurse came in mid-morning, gently adjusting the IV, checking his temperature. "We'll try sitting you up today, okay, Salim?"

No reply.

"I'll take that as a yes," the nurse said kindly. She pressed a button and slowly the bed elevated.

Salim's eyes didn't flicker. He stared at nothing.

Elian had never seen him this way. Even at their worst fights, Salim always had something to say. A biting remark, a sarcastic laugh, something.

Now, he looked like he'd sunk somewhere deep, somewhere unreachable.

When the nurse left, Elian stood by the window, the silence making his skin itch.

Then finally 

"She's going to know," Salim whispered.

Elian turned. "Who?"

"Mom."

A pause.

"She'll know something happened."

Elian exhaled slowly. "Rayzel's visiting her tomorrow. He'll tell her soon."

Salim looked away. "What did they say… about my legs?"

Elian hesitated.

"Therapy. Months of it. Maybe longer."

"…And if it doesn't work?"

The silence that followed was an answer.

Salim closed his eyes. "I miss walking," he murmured.

---

Back in the city…

That night, Lian stood on the balcony of her apartment, the city glowing below like stars had landed. She wore a soft robe someone had laid out for her. Her hair smelled like shampoo. Her skin was clean.

Her stomach was full.

She didn't remember the last time she'd gone to bed without hunger.

And yet, she didn't feel safe. Not completely.

This life didn't belong to her — not yet. She had to earn it. And deep down, a voice whispered: What if it disappears? What if it's taken back?

She picked up her phone and dialed.

"Mrs. James?" she said when the woman answered.

"Lian! Oh, sweet girl, I've been praying for you!"

"I need to talk to Louis."

A short shuffle, then the familiar voice crackled over the line. "Lian?"

Her throat tightened. "Hey, kiddo."

"I miss you already," he whispered.

"They're nice to me here. It's way better than Aunt Frida's house."

"I'm glad," She said softly.

Lian described the city, the tall buildings, the people in suits, the smell of her new soap, and how the kitchen lights came on with just a clap. She tried to paint it in bright colors, to make him feel like he was here too.

"I'll work hard," she told him. "So one day, we'll enjoy all these things together."

"I'll get good grades," Louis promised. "Then I'll come too."

She hung up with a soft laugh, heart warm but aching.

---

Somewhere far off…

Alaric Vance leaned against the glass of his penthouse window, phone to his ear.

"No, she doesn't know who her father is," he said, voice low. "And I want to keep it that way. At least for now."

The voice on the other end said something.

"Yes. I remember the promise," Alaric replied. "I've been watching her. She's… stronger than we thought."

A pause.

"She reminds me of him," he added, his voice growing distant.

He looked down at the city at the lights, the movement, the pulsing life below.

"Let her think it was all coincidence," he murmured. "When the time is right, we'll tell her the truth."

And then, just like that, he ended the call