Chapter 7

CH 7

POV: Julian Hartwell

Something Unfamiliar

Julian had imagined this moment for seventeen years.

Bringing his sister home.

Watching her walk through the front doors.

Hearing her call this place home again.

Yet as he stood outside her bedroom door the next morning—

He hesitated.

His hand hovered mid-air before knocking.

Why?

He didn’t know.

He knocked lightly.

“Come in,” her voice answered.

Soft.

Controlled.

Julian stepped inside.

Sophia—Isabella—sat near the window. Morning sunlight fell gently across her face, giving her an almost fragile glow.

A tray of untouched breakfast rested on the table beside her.

“You didn’t eat,” Julian observed.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she replied quietly.

Seventeen years apart, he reminded himself.

Of course she would feel overwhelmed.

He walked further into the room, studying her carefully.

“Do you remember anything?” he asked. “From before?”

She lowered her gaze.

“I remember… trees,” she said slowly. “And a big house.”

Julian felt a sharp pull in his chest.

The estate had massive oak trees surrounding the east garden.

He and Alexander used to chase her there.

“Anything else?” he pressed gently.

She hesitated.

Just a fraction too long.

“No.”

Julian nodded slowly.

He wanted to believe her.

He did.

But memories weren’t things you assembled from imagination.

They slipped out naturally.

“You used to hate thunderstorms,” he said suddenly.

Her head lifted.

“When it rained,” he continued softly, “you would run into my room and hide under the blanket.”

A pause.

Sophia’s fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of her dress.

“I… I don’t remember that,” she said quietly.

Julian forced a smile.

“It’s alright. You were three.”

Three.

Too young for clear memories.

That made sense.

It should have eased him.

But something still felt—

Distant.

As if he were speaking to someone studying him instead of reconnecting.

The door opened without warning.

Alexander entered.

“Breakfast meeting in ten minutes,” he said evenly.

His eyes moved between them.

“How is she?”

“She’s settling in,” Julian replied.

Alexander’s gaze rested on Sophia.

Too sharp.

Too assessing.

“You’ll meet a few senior staff members today,” he said. “A small introduction.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“So soon?”

Alexander did not miss the reaction.

“You are a Hartwell,” he said calmly. “The world will know soon enough.”

He turned and left as quietly as he had entered.

Julian lingered.

“Don’t mind my brother,” he said gently. “He protects what he loves by doubting everything first.”

Sophia nodded faintly.

Julian moved toward the door.

But just before stepping out, he paused.

“When you were little,” he added casually, “you had a habit of humming when you were nervous.”

Silence filled the room.

Sophia did not hum.

She did not blink.

She only smiled politely.

“I’ll try not to,” she said.

Julian stepped into the hallway.

The door closed softly behind him.

And the unease he had ignored yesterday returned.

Downstairs, two maids whispered near the staircase.

“She doesn’t look like them,” one murmured.

“Grief changes faces,” the other replied.

Julian heard both.

He kept walking.

Because doubt felt like betrayal.

And he had waited too long to let doubt win.

Inside the bedroom, Sophia finally exhaled.

He was testing me.

She moved quickly to the mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her.

Perfectly composed.

But beneath the calm exterior, her pulse was racing.

She had not expected questions so soon.

Not detailed ones.

She needed to study them more.

Their habits.

Their shared memories.

Their weaknesses.

She would not lose this.

Not after coming this far.

Across town, Victoria’s phone buzzed.

A message from Sophia.

“They’re asking about childhood memories.”

Victoria’s reply came almost instantly.

“Cry if necessary. Silence works better than lies.”

Sophia read the message twice.

Then slowly—

She practiced trembling her lip.

Lowering her lashes.

Softening her breathing.

And after a moment—

She began practicing tears.