Chapter 18
I drew a long slow breath, steadying myself – even now, saying it out loud still stung like fresh hurt. Checking Rose was calm and listening, I carried on.
“A man was hired to film my birth, run DNA tests, make sure my mother stuck to the contract and prove she never stepped out on my father, prove I was my father’s child.
My parents never once held me, fed me, or even met me when I was born.
I was handed straight to the nanny, Victoria.
The camera man filmed them signing papers, sorting out payments, while she sat alone holding a bottle to my mouth – the only real mother I ever knew. ”
“I called her mum until I was seven. I truly thought she was my mother. And my real mother… I was nothing to her unless I served a purpose. I was a bargaining chip, a weapon. When I turned ten, they said I was no longer useful enough. I got sent off to boarding school and never saw Victoria again. Holidays I’d roam empty corridors while other kids went home.
When I finally finished school, I walked in to find my parents throwing a party – and didn’t even know who I was. I was gone six years.”
I stared into the distance, seeing my whole life laid out plain.
“All those people my family mixed with… they’re hollow.
Fake. My father would size up business rivals like he was judging cattle.
Affection was something they bought, or sold, or faked for the cameras.
They’re empty. They hate what they can’t control, and they hate anyone who has something they don’t. ”
“You and Ivy are the first people since Victoria to ever hug me. At first it felt wrong… I’d forgotten how it feels to be held.
But I know what’s real now. Those women out there?
They’d die for each other. They’d die for you.
They just don’t know me yet. They’re guarding what’s theirs, same as you once had to do. ”
Rose tried to speak, but I held her gently quiet. “I know they’re scared. It takes time to see past a name, past what they think they know. You’ve got to let them come round in their own time.”
I walked her to the door to take her back to the room with the women, and she stepped through.
I turned back to the exit door, standing inside.
I had to stay there a moment longer, wiping the stray tears I couldn’t quite hold back.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed all those memories back down, locking them tight behind walls I’d built years ago.
“Danika?” a voice spoke soft behind me, making me jump.
Turning, I saw two of the older women – Snow and Butterfly.
“We wanted to be the first to say we were wrong,” Butterfly said, her voice gentle and sincere. “We heard everything. We misjudged you so badly. And when you stood up for Thorn, when you calmed her down instead of turning things ugly… we knew we’d got it all wrong.”
I stared confused, and Snow explained: “We’ve had eyes on you for days.
Bones and Ivy made sure of it. We watched how you were, how you acted through the cameras, that’s how we heard what you said.
We wanted to see the truth for ourselves before we ever came near you.
” Snow pointed to a camera that was hidden near where I stood.
They asked me to come back into the main room. When I stepped through the doorway, every eye turned my way – and this time, no coldness, no suspicion. Aysel walked straight over, arms open wide, pulling me into a hug so warm and steady it felt like home.
“Welcome to the club,” she murmured against my hair, her voice rich with that deep soft care only a mother can give. “A cage is still a cage, no matter how pretty the bars. You’re safe here. We’re sorry for how we treated you.”
Then Diamond stepped forward, smiling bright and kind. “Come here, love,” she said, guiding me to sit, pressing a mug of tea into my hands that smelled like comfort and vanilla. “You’ve been through more than enough. Ignore the old biddies, they just take a while to catch up.”
Within minutes the whole room had shifted. They crowded round, sharing stories, brushing hair back from my face, laughing easy – welcoming me like I’d always been there.
Then the chapel doors swung open with a heavy thud.
Church was over. Pres stepped out first, face stern, every inch the President. Rage followed close behind, coiled tight, still ready to fight.
But when the men walked into the common room, they froze dead in their tracks.
Instead of tension or trouble, they found laughter, tea, plates being passed around, and the whole room wrapped around me.
Pres blinked, that hard ‘Pres’ mask slipping clean off his face as he looked at his wife.
Rage stood rooted to the spot, jaw hanging loose, dark eyes wide – he’d spent days worrying, watching, guarding…
only to walk in and find the women had already claimed me as one of their own.
They’d gone out ready for war and come back to find the fight was already over.