Chapter 4

The gates of my childhood home loomed before me, tall and ornate, their iron bars twisted into intricate designs that had once inspired awe but now felt cold and unyielding. The sprawling estate beyond them was just as I remembered. Immaculate gardens, fountains that sparkled in the sunlight, and a driveway so polished it reflected the sky. It was a palace, a sign of wealth and power that I had turned my back on years ago. And now, I was returning. Not as the rebellious daughter who had defiantly walked out, but as a woman who had been broken, who had lost everything, and who had nowhere else to go.

The gates creaked open, and I drove through, the tires of my modest car crunching against the pristine gravel. My chest tightened with every foot closer to the grand mansion. I could feel the weight of my father’s disapproval already, even though I hadn’t yet seen him. The thought of facing him after all these years made my stomach churn, but I pushed the fear aside. This was the only place left for me to turn to. This was home... whether I liked it or not.

As I stepped out of the car, the front doors of the mansion opened, and there she was—my mother. Her figure was framed by the towering double doors, her elegant emerald dress flowing around her like liquid silk. Her face, so familiar and yet so distant, lit up with an emotion that made my throat tighten. It wasn’t anger or disappointment like I had expected. It was relief. Pure, unfiltered relief.

“Tasia!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling as she rushed down the marble steps toward me. Her arms were open wide, and before I could process it, she had pulled me into a tight embrace. The scent of her lavender perfume enveloped me, and for a brief moment, I let myself melt into her arms. It was a comfort I hadn’t realized I had missed so desperately.

“My baby,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled back slightly, her hands cupping my face as her eyes scanned me, taking in every detail as if to reassure herself that I was really here. “You’re home. You’re finally home.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wasn’t ready to cry, not yet. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know I—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “We’ll talk later. Right now, all that matters is that you’re here.”

But her warmth was a stark contrast to the icy presence standing in the doorway. My father. He hadn’t moved from his spot, his tall frame rigid, his hands clasped behind his back. His expression was unreadable, but his piercing gaze was enough to make me feel like a child caught sneaking in past curfew. There was no relief in his eyes, no joy at seeing his daughter return. Just a hard, impenetrable wall of disappointment.

“Anastasia,” he said, his voice low and measured. It wasn’t a greeting. It was a statement, a reminder of my name, of who I was supposed to be. “You’ve decided to grace us with your presence after all this time.”

My mother shot him a look, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Victor,” she said sharply, her tone laced with warning. “Not now.”

He raised an eyebrow, but his expression didn’t soften. “If not now, then when, Tricia? She’s been gone for years. And now, after abandoning her family and throwing away everything we gave her, she comes crawling back?”

I flinched at his words, but I stood my ground. I had expected this. In fact, I had prepared myself for much worse. My father was not a man who forgave easily, and I had given him plenty of reasons to be angry.

“She’s still your daughter,” my mother said firmly, stepping between us as if to shield me from his judgment. “No matter what happened in the past, she’s still our daughter. And she’s here now. Isn’t that enough?”

My father’s gaze shifted to my mother, and for a moment, the tension in his jaw eased. But it was fleeting. He turned back to me, his eyes narrowing. “I hope you understand the consequences of your actions, Anastasia. You walked away from your family, from your responsibilities, for what? For a man who clearly wasn’t worth it?”

I felt the sting of his words, but I refused to let them break me. I straightened my spine, meeting his gaze head-on. “I made a mistake,” I admitted, my voice steady. “I know that now. But I’m here because I want to make things right.”

My father let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? Do you think you can just waltz back into this house and pretend like nothing happened?”

“Victor, that’s enough,” my mother said, her voice rising. “She’s been through enough. Can’t you see that?”

My father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to calm himself. “Tricia,” he said, his tone softer but no less firm, “you’re too forgiving. She needs to understand that actions have consequences. This isn’t some fairytale where everything works out in the end.”

I looked between them, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t let this spiral into another argument. I needed to take control of the situation, to prove to them, and to myself, that I was serious about starting over.

“Fine,” I said, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Both of them turned to look at me, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity. “I’ll marry him.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. My mother’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her chest as she gasped. My father’s eyebrows shot up, his stern demeanor faltering for the first time.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice low and cautious, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“I said I’ll marry him,” I repeated, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. “The son of your business partner. The one you wanted me to marry before I ran away. I’ll do it.”

My mother stepped forward, her eyes searching mine for answers. “Tasia, are you sure?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” I said firmly, cutting her off. I turned to my father, meeting his gaze with determination. “If that’s what it takes to make things right, then I’ll do it.”

For a moment, the only sound was the distant chirping of birds in the garden. My father studied me, his expression unreadable, before finally nodding. “Very well,” he said. “We’ll speak to the Coles and arrange a meeting.”

My chest tightened at the mention of their name. The Coles. Asher Cole. My future husband. I had no idea what kind of man Asher was or what kind of life awaited me as his wife, but I knew one thing for certain—I couldn’t make the same mistakes I had made before.

As my father turned and walked back into the house, my mother placed a gentle hand on my arm. “Tasia,” she said softly, her eyes filled with concern. “You don’t have to do this for us.”

I forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m not doing it just for you,” I said. “I’m doing it for me.”

And as I followed my mother into the mansion, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just exchanged one gilded cage for another. I just hope I have the key, I must.