Homecoming

Chapter 8

Andrea’s POV

The sound of the helicopter jolted me awake. I didn’t even know when I had fallen asleep.

“You’re awake,” my mother, Eleanor, said to me.

“Yes, Mother,” I said, stretching my body, it ached from exhaustion

I could see the estate from a distance. Reality started sinking in, my heart pounding in my chest. The past few hours had felt like a dream—one moment, I was trapped in that terrible place Jason had dumped me, and the next, I was rescued. Now, I was going back to the place I had once called home.

My mother placed her hand over my trembling ones, her touch warm and reassuring. I could see the concern in her eyes, the way they searched my face as if trying to read my emotions.

“Andrea, breathe. You don’t need to panic. It’s your father we’re going to meet, and I know he will be happy to see you. So, relax.”

Her voice was soft and soothing, the way it had always been when I was a child. Mother’s words had always been a source of comfort, but right now, I couldn’t seem to calm the anxiety twisting inside me.

A voice interrupted my thoughts. “Prepare for landing. We’re approaching the estate,” the pilot announced through the intercom.

I turned my gaze to the window, and there it was—the mansion. It stood tall beneath us, exactly as I had remembered. The large garden was neatly trimmed, the long driveway stretched before the grand entrance, and maids were tending to their work. It was a place I had once known like the back of my hand, yet it felt foreign now. How could I have forgotten where I came from?

The helicopter slowly descended onto the private helipad. The moment the door was pulled open by the waiting staff, a gust of wind hit my face. I inhaled deeply. Fresh air. It had been ages since I had felt this sense of freedom.

My mother stepped out first, turning back to offer me her hand. I hesitated for a second before gripping her fingers tightly. I followed her, feeling like a lost child trying to find her way home. The blades of the helicopter stirred the air, sending my hair flying wildly around my face.

The moment my feet touched the ground, a strange feeling settled in my chest—a mix of relief and fear.

The front doors of the mansion opened, and there, at the top of the stairs, stood my father. His tall frame was just as I remembered, but the sight of him made my throat tighten. Tears streamed down his face, and I could tell they were tears of joy. I was his lost sheep who had strayed too far from home.

I stood frozen at the entrance. My knees buckled, and before I could stop myself, I fell to the ground. No. I didn’t deserve his tears. I had abandoned them, hurt them, and made choices that shattered their hearts. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

My mother rushed to my side, lifting me gently. “Andrea, stop crying. None of this is your fault,” she whispered.

I heard the heavy sound of my father’s footsteps approaching. Through my tear-blurred vision, I saw him coming closer. His voice, deep and filled with emotion, called my name.

“My princess… welcome home.”

He stretched out his arms, his eyes pleading, and that was all it took for me to break. I stood up and ran straight into his embrace.

He held me tightly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re safe now, darling.” His voice was thick with emotion.

How did I ever let go of the unconditional love I was given? How did I allow myself to be blinded by a man who had done nothing but destroy me?

Sobs racked my body as I clung to him. “I’m sorry, Dad. I never meant to hurt you and Mom. Please forgive me,” I choked out.

I was about to kneel in front of them when he caught me mid-motion, shaking his head firmly.

“Andrea, I know you’re sorry. You don’t have to apologize anymore. We should have never let you go in the first place.”

My mother came to his side, gently wiping my tears away. “Your father and I love you so much, sweetheart. Let the past remain in the past. You’re home now. You’re where you belong.”

A familiar voice interrupted the moment. “Annabel,” my father called.

From the doorway, a woman rushed out. My breath hitched. Annabel.

She had been like a second mother to me, taking care of me since I was a child. She had always been loyal to our family, and I wasn’t surprised to see her still here after all these years.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she took in my disheveled appearance. She looked just as I remembered—her gray hair neatly tied into a bun, her uniform crisply ironed. Even with wrinkles beginning to form on her face, she still held the same warmth in her expression.

“Take Andrea to her room and clean her up,” my father instructed.

“No, Dad, you don’t have to. I can do that myself,” I hurriedly said, not wanting to be treated like a child.

But I could tell, in their eyes, I would always be their little girl.

Annabel gently placed her hand on my shoulder. “Come with me, ma’am.”

I followed her inside. As we walked through the hallways, I could hear her sniffing, trying to hide her emotions. She was hurting, but she didn’t want to show it.

When we reached my room, she gestured for me to enter. “Come in, my lady.”

I stepped inside, and my breath caught in my throat.

Everything was exactly as I remembered.

My pictures still covered the walls. The furniture, the decorations—it was all untouched as if waiting for me to return. My eyes landed on a framed photograph on the wall. My sixteenth birthday. My smile in that picture was the brightest it had ever been.

I had been perfect before I met him—before I met the wolf in sheep’s clothing who tore me apart.

Annabel’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Your water is ready, my lady.” She stepped forward, ready to undress me, just like she had done when I was younger.

I shook my head. “No, Annabel, you don’t have to. You can go. I’ll clean myself up.”

She hesitated. “But, ma’am—”

“It’s fine.” I cut her off, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

She nodded reluctantly. “Alright, ma.”

“Please, just call me Andrea. There’s no need for ‘ma’ anymore.”

She smiled softly. “Okay… Andrea.”

With that, she left.

I turned to face the mirror, my hands trembling as I undressed. My eyes fell to my stomach, and there it was.

The scar, I got from the accident

Even though the wound had long since healed, the pain never left me. It wasn’t just a scar—it was a reminder. A mark that would haunt me for the rest of my life. A scar that reminded me that I would never be able to have a child of my own.

A cry escaped my lips.

I fell to my knees, clutching my stomach. My chest tightened painfully, and I started hitting it with my fists as if that could somehow make the agony go away. Jason was right. Maybe I did kill my child. Maybe if I hadn’t gone out that night…

Tears poured down my face like a storm, and I could barely breathe. My reflection in the mirror caught my eye.

I looked so pale. So pathetic.

I gritted my teeth and wiped my tears away harshly. No. This wasn’t the time to cry.

This was the time for war.

I pushed myself off the floor, staring at my reflection with newfound determination.

I wasn’t the weak, naïve Andrea who had walked into Jason’s trap.

I wasn’t the helpless woman he had discarded like trash.

I was Andrea Sinclair. And I was coming back for everything he stole from me.

I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and whispered to my reflection:

“You can’t win this fight by being weak.”