Chapter 7 - Life in Beacon Hill
The Montgomery estate in Beacon Hill was a historic, four-story brick mansion surrounded by wrought-iron fences and manicured gardens.
When Arthur brought me through the front doors, I was stunned. Unlike Todd's cold, sterile house where I was treated like an intruder, this house felt warm, grand, and full of history.
Arthur personally led me up the grand staircase to the third floor. He opened a set of double doors to reveal a stunning bedroom suite featuring a king-sized bed, a private fireplace, a balcony overlooking the city skyline, and a massive adjoining bathroom.
On the desk in the corner sat several neatly stacked, wrapped gift boxes with cards attached: Happy 13th Birthday, Brinley, Happy 14th Birthday, Brinley, Happy 15th Birthday, Brinley.
"I saved them for you," Arthur said quietly, standing in the doorway. "Every year on your birthday, I bought something I thought you might like. I hoped one day I'd be able to give them to you in person."
I walked over to the desk, my fingers tracing the smooth wrapping paper. The emotional weight of fifteen years of isolation seemed to lift off my chest all at once. I turned around and wrapped my arms around my father's waist, burying my face in his chest.
Arthur froze for a fraction of a second, shocked, before holding me tightly, resting his chin on top of my head.
"I've got you now, Brinley," he whispered. "Nobody is ever going to drop you off or cast you aside again."
Over the next two weeks, my entire world transformed.
Arthur hired tutors to help me catch up on my high school coursework, bought me a complete new wardrobe, and took me to dinner every single night. We talked for hours. I learned about his life, his passion for architectural design, and his love for history. He learned about my interest in journalism, my love for literature, and how hard I had worked to keep my grades high despite my home life.
I also met my other two half-siblings: Victoria and Charles.
Unlike Julian, Victoria (twenty-eight, an environmental attorney) and Charles (twenty-five, an architect) were warm and welcoming. When Arthur explained the truth about how Julian and Susan had kept us apart, Victoria was furious at Julian, while Charles immediately took me out to explore Boston, buying me cannolis in the North End and treating me like a real little sister.
For the first time in my life, I knew what it felt like to have a real family.
But the storm was brewing across the Atlantic.
At the end of my third week in Boston, my mother's month-long European trip came to an end.
I was sitting in Arthur's home library, reading a book by the window, when my phone—which had been silent for weeks—began ringing frantically on the table.
The caller ID flashed: Mom.
She had landed back in Los Angeles, gone to pick me up at Aunt Linda's summer house in Florida, and discovered I had never arrived.
I looked at the phone, took a deep breath, and slid the icon to answer.
"Brinley!" My mother's voice shrieked through the speaker, tight with hysterical panic. "Where on earth are you?! Aunt Linda says you never showed up in Tampa! I have been looking for you for two days! Do you have any idea how much stress you are causing me and Todd?!"
I stayed completely calm. "Hello, Mom. How was Europe?"
"Don't you dare talk to me with that attitude!" she screamed. "Where are you right now? Are you in Anaheim? I am calling the police!"
"You don't need to call the police, Mom," I said smoothly. "I'm safe. I'm sitting in the library."
May you like
"What library? Anaheim Public Library?"
"No," I replied, leaning back into the velvet armchair. "The library at the Montgomery Estate. In Beacon Hill, Boston."
