#6

Chapter 6

**Cynthia's POV**

Julian didn't waste time.

Within an hour of my agreement, I was being wheeled through corridors for more scans.

They brought me back to the hospital room, Julian was waiting with a tablet full of images I couldn't interpret. His expression was serious, studying the images.

"Tell me," I said. "Just tell me the truth."

He sat down, setting the tablet on the bedside table. "The tumor is large. It's in a very difficult location, near the brain stem, which controls all your vital functions. Breathing, heart rate, consciousness. Operating there is..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "It's like defusing a bomb. One wrong move, and..."

"And I die on the table," I finished.

"…or worse." His voice was quiet. "You could survive with severe deficits. Paralysis, loss of speech, cognitive impairment. The risks are significant."

I looked at the ceiling, at the cracks in the plaster that formed patterns like constellations. "So my options are: die slowly and painfully over the next few weeks, die quickly on the operating table, or survive as a vegetable."

"There's a fourth option." Julian leaned forward, his eyes intense. "You survive. I've performed this surgery before… three times. The first patient didn't make it, second survived but with significant impairment and the third…" His voice filled with something like hope. "… walked out of this hospital weeks later and went back to her life."

"One out of three," I said.

"Better odds than zero out of zero."

He had a point.

While I was still considering the odds, the door burst open.

"Where is she?"

I turned and two men stood in the doorway, both tall, both imposing in completely different ways.

The first was older wearing a suit that probably cost more than my wedding dress had, the second was younger, closer to my age, wearing jeans and a leather jacket despite the early hour. His hair was longer, artfully disheveled, and even exhausted from travel he was almost absurdly handsome.

They both froze when they saw me.

"Hi," I said, because what else do you say to men you haven't met before but are suddenly somehow your supposed brothers?

"You look just like her." The younger one moved first, crossing the room in three quick strides.

He stopped a few feet from my bed, shoving his hands in his pockets like he didn't trust what they'd do otherwise. "I'm Kevin. I'm… I might be your second brother, and that's Nathaniel, the eldest and the bossiest."

"I'm not bossy, I'm organized," Nathaniel said, but his voice was softer now. He approached more slowly, studying me with an intensity that should have been uncomfortable but somehow wasn't. "May I?"

He gestured to the chair beside my bed. I nodded.

He sat, and for a long moment, he just looked at me, the way Julian had, like he was trying to see past skin and bone to something underneath.

"I don't remember any of you. I'm sorry." I said quietly.

"Don't apologize." Kevin had taken up a position by the window, too energetic to sit. "Julian explained about the trauma, the memory loss. It's not your fault."

"Yeah, when they found me, I couldn't remember anything other than my name…Cici. That’s why I couldn’t even find my family. The doctors back then called it dissociative amnesia. Everything before the kidnapping is just... blank. Like I didn’t have a life before the kidnapping."

Nathaniel's hand covered mine, where it rested on the blanket. His grip was warm, solid, real. "I’m so glad that we’ve found you."

That melted my heart, I never knew I could be loved and desired by people in just after a few days of feeling l was a mistake and a burden to everybody.

They settled in, talking about random things about the family and how they can’t wait for me to return home. Their certainty that I was their sister even though the DNA test hadn’t been conducted baffled me.

Nathaniel made phone calls in rapid French to people in New York, London, Tokyo… pausing international business deals, rearranging his entire schedule. "Family emergency," he said, and refused to elaborate.

Kevin sprawled in the chair by the window, telling me stories about Formula One racing that I only half understood but found myself smiling at anyway. His energy filled the room, chasing away some of the clinical sterility.

Their mother arrived with fresh clothes for me, soft things that didn't smell like hospital. She brushed my hair with gentle hands and didn't ask questions when tears slipped down my cheeks at the simple kindness of it.

And Julian came and went, checking monitors, adjusting medications, but always returning to sit beside my bed and explain exactly what the surgery would entail.

I told them about the kidnapping I couldn't remember. About waking up in a hospital with no memories and no one to claim me. About the Walker family who'd adopted me out of guilt, because their son Ethan had been kidnapped alongside me.

"Wait." Kevin sat up straighter. "Ethan Walker? The Ethan Walker from Walker Industries?"

"You know him?"

"Know of him." Kevin’s expression darkened. "Mid-tier company, trying to break into European markets. He's been making overtures to some of our partners."

"Our company is significantly larger," Nathaniel added. "We've crossed paths at conferences. I didn't realize he had an adopted sister."

"I’m now his wife, actually." I said quietly.

I told them about the forced marriage. About Anna, the other adopted daughter, and her manipulations. About eight years of being treated like a servant in my own home. About my son, Amber wishing I was dead. About discovering Anna's pregnancy and Ethan's betrayal.

By the time I finished, their mother was crying silently, and all three brothers looked murderous.

"I'll destroy him." Nathaniel's voice was ice. "Walker Industries will be bankrupt within six months."

"I know people," Kevin said, his usual cheerfulness completely gone. "People who could make his life very difficult. Very painful."

"He's not worth it," I said tiredly. "He's not worth any of this. I just want to be free of him."

"We'll handle both of them," Nathaniel said. "After you're recovered. After you're safe."

Julian's smile was brilliant. "That said, we operate tomorrow morning. Six AM."

"Then we do the DNA test," Nathaniel said. "And when it confirms what we already know, that you're our sister, our Cici… and we welcome you home properly."

I could see in their eyes they'd already decided I was theirs.

***

They prepped me at five AM.

I was wheeled through quiet corridors, mother holding one hand, Nathaniel the other. Kevin walked alongside, unusually quiet, while Julian had gone ahead to scrub in.

Outside the operating theater, they each said goodbye.

Nathaniel kissed my forehead. "You're stronger than you know, Cici. Prove it."

Kevin squeezed my hand so hard it hurt. "You better wake up, little sister. I have so many embarrassing stories to tell you about these two."

Their mother cupped my face in both hands, her eyes swimming with tears. "I lost you once. I'm not losing you again. Do you hear me? You fight with everything you have."

"I will," I promised.

And then they wheeled me through the doors, and Julian was there in his surgical gown, his eyes the only thing visible above his mask.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No," I admitted. "But let's do it anyway."

He nodded to the anesthesiologist. "Count backward from ten."

"Ten... nine... eight..."

The world began to fade.

"...seven... six..."

I thought of Paris. Of the life I'd come here to end, and the life I might be starting.

"...five... four..."

I thought of Ethan and Amber, they should have been here for me.

"...three... two..."

I really want to survive.

"...one..."

***

"...vitals are stable..."

"...swelling is within expected parameters..."

"...Julian, you need to rest, you've been awake for…"

"I'm not leaving her."

I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids weighed a thousand pounds.

"Did you see that?" Kevin’s voice, sharp with hope. "Her hand moved!"

"Cici?" their mother, closer now. "Cici, darling, can you hear me?"

I managed to crack my eyes open. Everything was blurry, too bright, but I could see shapes hovering over me. Four shapes.

My family.

"There she is." Nathaniel's voice was rough, like he'd been crying. "There's our girl."

I tried to speak, but my throat was too dry, too raw from the breathing tube

"Don't try to talk," Julian said quickly. "You've been intubated for twelve hours. Your throat will be sore."

"Did it... work?" The words came out as a croak.

"Yes." Julian's eyes above his mask were bright with tears. "Yes, Cici. I got it all. Every bit of the tumor. The margins are clean. You're going to be okay."

I closed my eyes as relief flooded through me. I was alive. I survived.

"And..." I opened my eyes again, meeting each of their gazes. "...the smell. What... smells good?"

Kevin laughed, the sound breaking on a sob. He held up a white paper bag. "Egg tarts. You used to love them when you were little."

"You remembered," their mother whispered, tears streaming down her face. "You remembered your favorite food."

I didn't remember. Not really. But the smell felt like home in a way nothing had felt like home in years.

"Can I..." I swallowed painfully. "Can I have one?"

"Later," Julian said firmly. "When you're off the feeding protocol. But soon, I promise."

Nathaniel bent down, pressing his forehead to mine gently. "You scared us, little sister."

"Sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be sorry," Kevin said fiercely. "Just don't do it again."

Their mother was crying too hard to speak, just holding my hand and pressing kisses to my knuckles.

"The DNA test," I said. "I want to do it."