The truck's headlights swept across the manicured lawn of the Solomon estate.
Bryan didn't bother using the intercom at the gate. He punched in the code-the same one he'd known since he was a kid-and the iron gates swung open. He drove straight up the circular driveway and slammed on the brakes, the truck skidding slightly on the wet pavers.
He didn't turn off the engine. He just got out, walked around to the passenger side, and unbuckled Izzy. She was still half-asleep, her face flushed from the warmth of the truck. He scooped her up, the flannel jacket still wrapped around her, and carried her up the steps to the front door.
Bryan didn't knock. He twisted the ornate brass handle, finding it unlocked, and shoved the heavy wooden door inward. It flew open, slamming against the interior wall with a deafening bang that echoed through the foyer.
Bryan strode inside, his boots tracking mud and grease onto the pristine marble floor. He walked straight into the living room, his eyes hard, his jaw set like stone.
The living room was a picture of domestic bliss. A fire crackled in the hearth. Evette Solomon was sitting on the velvet sofa, gently running a brush through Katelynn's hair. Katelynn was wearing a silk dress the color of roses, her blonde curls bouncing as she turned to look at the intruders.
Conrad was standing by the mantle, sipping from a porcelain coffee cup.
The door hitting the wall made him jump. Coffee sloshed over the rim, burning his hand. He spun around, his face twisting in anger. "What the hell-"
He saw Bryan. Then he saw the small, dirty bundle in Bryan's arms. His face went pale, then flushed red with rage.
Bryan walked to the center of the room and set Izzy down on the plush wool rug.
Izzy stood there.The flannel jacket hung past her knees. She looked around the room, at the sparkling chandelier and the expensive art on the walls, and she shrank back, her shoulders hunching up to her ears.
Katelynn stopped playing with her doll. She looked Izzy up and down, her nose wrinkling. She looked at Izzy the way one might look at a bug crawling across a picnic table.
Evette set the hairbrush down. She stood up, smoothing her skirt, and walked over. She didn't kneel down. She didn't offer a hug. She just looked down at Izzy, her eyes narrowing as she took in the grime, the tangled hair, the smell of exhaust and motor oil.
"What is that smell?" Evette asked, her voice dripping with disgust. "She's filthy. And those clothes... they look like they were pulled out of a dumpster."
Izzy flinched. She stared at her toes, her voice a tiny, broken whisper. "I'm sorry."
"Get her out of here, Bryan," Conrad snapped, setting his cup down with a clatter. "She's ruining the evening. We don't want this... disruption in our home."
Bryan let out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. It was a harsh, grating sound. "Disruption? You left your own daughter standing in the cold at a bus station. You left her with strangers. What kind of coward does that?"
"Language," Evette hissed, glancing at Katelynn.
A slow, rhythmic thumping came from the hallway. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Arthur Solomon appeared at the top of the stairs. He was a tall man, though he was bent with age, his white hair thinning. He leaned heavily on a wooden cane, his knuckles gnarled. His eyes, though clouded with cataracts, were sharp as tacks.
"Enough," Arthur said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. The room fell silent.
He walked down the stairs, each step deliberate. He crossed the room, ignoring Conrad and Evette, and stopped in front of Izzy.
He looked at her, and his wrinkled face crumbled. His eyes filled with a deep, aching sorrow. He reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch her hair, to comfort her.
Izzy saw the hand coming toward her. A stranger's hand. Large and calloused.
Panic seized her chest. She scrambled backward, her heart leaping into her throat.
Her hip hit the glass coffee table. A delicate porcelain teacup, part of an antique tea service that had belonged to Katelynn's great-grandmother, wobbled, then tipped over the edge.
It hit the marble floor with a sharp, piercing crash. Shards of white and blue scattered across the rug.
Katelynn shrieked, clapping her hands over her ears. "My tea set!"
Conrad's face contorted with rage. He stepped forward, pointing a shaking finger at Izzy. "You clumsy, undisciplined brat!" he roared. "Look what you did! You have no manners, no respect. You're nothing but a wild animal!"
Izzy froze. The loud voice hit her like a physical blow. Her breath hitched, her lungs refusing to work. The room spun.
And then she heard it. A high-pitched screaming coming from outside the window. The rose bushes pressed against the glass, their leaves trembling violently, their thorns scraping against the pane. Fear, fear, fear, they shrieked. The sound echoed in Izzy's head, amplifying her own terror until it was a roaring wave.
She clamped her hands over her ears, her body shaking violently. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.
Bryan moved like a flash. He stepped between Izzy and Conrad, his massive frame blocking her from view. He grabbed Conrad by the collar of his expensive shirt, lifting him slightly off the ground.
"Say that again," Bryan growled, his face inches from Conrad's. "Call her that one more time, and I'll break your jaw."
Conrad's eyes went wide. Evette gasped, pulling Katelynn against her side. "Don't you dare touch him!" she screamed. "You're the one who brought this trash into our house!"
CRACK.
Arthur's cane slammed into the hardwood floor. The sound was like a gunshot.
"Put him down, Bryan," Arthur commanded.
Bryan held Conrad for a second longer, his eyes burning with hatred, then shoved him away. Conrad stumbled back, straightening his shirt, his face red with humiliation.
Arthur turned his glare on his eldest son. "You are a disgrace, Conrad. A miserable excuse for a man. This child is your blood."
"She is not my blood," Conrad spat back, his pride wounded. "She's a stranger. If you want her so badly, you take care of her. I'm done."
"We're done," Evette added, wrapping her arm around Katelynn. "Katelynn is our only daughter. We don't need... that... complicating our lives."
Katelynn looked up at her father, then walked over to him. She grabbed his hand, leaning against his leg. She looked back at Izzy, sticking her tongue out just slightly, a smug, triumphant glint in her eyes.
Izzy peeked out from behind Bryan's leg. She saw the four of them-Conrad, Evette, and Katelynn-standing together. A perfect, unbroken circle. A family. And she was on the outside, looking in.
A cold numbness spread through her chest. The hope, the tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they would want her, snuffed out.
She reached down and grabbed the hem of Bryan's pants, twisting the fabric around her small fingers. She held on tight. It was the only thing keeping her from drowning.
Bryan felt the tug. He looked down at her small, pale face, then back at his brother.
"Fine," Bryan said, his voice cold and final. "I wouldn't let her stay in this house of vipers anyway. We're leaving."
He bent down to pick Izzy up, but Arthur's cane tapped the floor again.
"Wait," Arthur said. The old man sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. "It's late. It's freezing outside. You'll stay here tonight. The guest room is made up."
"I'm not leaving her in this house alone," Bryan said firmly.
"You won't be," Arthur replied. "You'll stay with her. Tomorrow, we'll sort out this mess legally. But tonight, you stay. I'm calling my lawyer now. He has all our family's information on file; I'll have him draw up the paperwork and bring it here first thing in the morning."
Bryan looked at Conrad, who was already turning away, dismissing them. Bryan's jaw clenched, but he gave a stiff nod. "One night."
He took Izzy's hand and walked toward the stairs, not looking back at the family that had thrown her away.
