5 [Eloise's POV]

The days after the truth came out blurred together, strange and unreal, as if I’d stepped into a life that didn’t belong to me.

The doctor's words still echoed in my mind. In that moment I was washed with a wave of emotions. Vindication, relief, fear and sadness. I had just found out who my father  is but it felt like I had ruined his life.

I’d expected Tristan Walker to deny me. To fight the results. To throw me out and tell me never to show my face again. 

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t embraced me either.

 Instead, there had been silence—days of it—before his call came in on a cloudy wednesday afternoon. He had not said much but the one that did catch my attention was;

“Come and stay with us. It’s… the right thing to do.”

The words had been clinical, clipped. It wasn't the ''I want you around'' or  ''I'm glad that I finally found my kid" it was just him fulfilling an obligation. 

An obligation that he was either too decent or guilty to toss aside. And I should have been glad  but I was hurt. I did not want to be with a parent that did not really want me.

My mother, was not a great parent and had sent me to a man that probably hated  me on some level.  That was okay. I would be out of here come college.

He would never have to see me ever again.

And so, on a Tuesday afternoon, I stood door of his grand house  with a small duffel bag clutched to my chest. My whole life packed into worn fabric.

The door opened soundlessly before I could knock. It was the same lady that had opened the door for me before. 

Marilyn.

She looked even more stunning in daylight—sixty, maybe a little more, with elegant lines etched into her face that made her beauty feel timeless.

 She smiled, warm and unpredicted. After the chaos that I had created, I half expected her to greet me with a demaning glare but instead she wrapped me in a hug.

I didn't hug back. I was not used to that kind of affection.

“Eloise.” Her voice carried comfort, steady and smooth. “Come in, dear.”

 I stepped inside, overwhelmed instantly by the house’s immensity. Polished marble floors. Walls hung with paintings that probably cost more than everything my mother ever owned.

I was too distracted to even take in the interior of the place the fiirst time that I was here.

My throat closed up. This wasn’t my kind of place.

I didn’t belong here.

Before I could drown in the thought, I heard his footsteps. Tristan appeared at the top of the staircase, tall and immaculate, but stiff in a way that betrayed nerves. 

His eyes flickered over me, and I wondered if he saw me as a daughter, or as a mistake dragged out of the grave of his past.

“Eloise,” he said, his tone steady but not unkind. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”

Marilyn patted my arm lightly. 

“Go on, dear. I’ll have something ready for dinner.”

I nodded, muttered a quiet thank you, then followed Tristan up the sweeping staircase. My legs felt heavy, like each step was another barrier between who I had been and who I was supposed to become.

He didn’t speak much until we reached the end of a wide corridor. He stopped before a door, pushed it open, and stepped aside for me to enter.

The room was massive. Light poured in from a bay window, bouncing off pale walls and soft cream drapes.

 A queen-sized bed dressed in crisp linens stood waiting, and the air smelled faintly of lavender. On the dresser sat a vase of fresh flowers.

I thought of all the places that I had lived in. Mom and I moved around a lot when I was a kid and all of them up to the motel that I had been living in for the past two weeks was nothing compared to this.

This… this was another world.

Even the air smelt better.... cleaner.

“This will be yours,” Tristan said quietly. “I asked Marilyn to make sure it had everything you might need.”

I set my duffel down on the bed. It looked pitiful against all that space. He noticed it, cleared his throat and pointed to the closet.

''You won't be needing your old clothes anymore. I don't know your style but I had someone get things a girl your age might like''

I nodded.

''Thanks''

“I need to ask—how far along were you in school before…” He trailed off, careful, like he didn’t want to remind me of my mother.

I forced my voice steady. “I was a sophomore. Before she died''

Now, I wondered if she was actually dead somewhere.

He nodded, lips pressing thin. 

“Right. Then you’ll be enrolled into Heldon High. It’s a private academy, not far from here. They’re… excellent.”

Heldon High. I’d never heard of it but I knew what to expect.

The place where the children of the wealthy went to polish their crowns before inheriting empires. The kind of place I’d never even dreamed of stepping foot in.

I don't know if I even wanted to be in there.

The thought of me, a girl from a string of rundown apartments, trying to stand among kids who’d never worried about their next meal and had the world at their beck and call—it made my stomach knot. 

But I said nothing. I couldn’t.

 He was trying. And I wasn’t about to ruin it.

 I nodded. “Okay.”

He studied me for a moment, as though he wanted to say something more, but the words didn’t come. His eyes flickered—was it guilt? Hope? Fear? I couldn’t tell.

If he was scared then so was I. I never saw any of this coming and I don't know if I was ready to be a daughter to a father that didn't exist before  now.

“Well,” he said finally, voice clipped again, “I’ll let you settle in. Dinner is at seven. If you need anything… you can ask Marilyn.”

Awkward silence filled the room, stretching tight between us. He shifted his weight, his hand brushing the doorframe, then gave me a small nod before stepping back.

“Goodbye, Eloise.”

“Goodbye,” I echoed softly.

And just like that, he was gone.

The door closed, leaving me in a silence too large for me to fill. 

I sat on the bed, the mattress firm and cloud-like beneath me, so much better than the broken springs I was used to. I lay back, staring at the ceiling, trying to let myself believe this was real.

But unease crept in.

This wasn’t home. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I thought of my mother. Of her last words to me, sharp and trembling: 

“Never look for me.”

''Mama...'' I uttered silently, ''Where are you? what am I doing here?"

I turned onto my side, curling into myself, listening to the silence of this perfect, pristine room. The sheets were soft, the air cool, the world outside calm. I fought back tears as hard as I possibly could.

I was happy to be somewhere better but I could not shake this feeling that something was waiting to happen.

 Something bad. I could feel it like a shadow hovering just out of sight.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under. 

My last thought before sleep claimed me was that this new found comfort could be a trap and I may have just walked into it.