The Storms

Chapter three

The twins were shocked when they found out they had family. Their mother had always told them, "Your father died with your older brother." The weight of those words bore down on them for years, shaping the reality they thought they knew.

Now that was another lie. She told them. She also said she wouldn't ever let them get away from her.

"Are you guys ready?" Vincent asked them. They were all in the Storms' private jet, a sleek vessel soaring above the clouds. The hum of the engines echoed the anticipation in the cabin.

"Yes, thank you," Blake said, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. Brielle just sat there, not saying a word. Her silence spoke volumes, a testament to the years of conditioning that made expressing herself difficult.

The plane was about to take off. Brielle got scared, her eyes betraying nothing but a void, a stark absence of emotion. Yet, she knew not to show too much.

"May I have a blanket, please?" she asked, surprising everyone, even Blake. She barely talked around anyone who wasn't him. Her request hinted at a desire for comfort, a simple yet profound plea for warmth in a world that had been cold for far too long.

"Of course, sweetie," Damien said, his fatherly instincts kicking in. He fetched a plush blanket, the softness a stark contrast to the harsh realities the twins had faced.

"Thank you," Brielle whispered, her voice carrying no discernible emotion. The exchange was a small but significant moment - the acceptance of comfort from someone other than her brother, a subtle acknowledgment of the new chapter unfolding in their lives.

She placed some of the blanket on Blake's legs, her movements precise and calculated. That is when the plane started to take off. Anxiety gripped Brielle, and she instinctively grabbed Blake's hand from under the blanket. He looked over at her and noticed the fear in her eyes, yet her face remained an impassive mask, revealing nothing. He squeezed her hand out of comfort, a silent promise that they were in this together. Brielle looked at him with an emotionless gaze, finding solace in the unspoken understanding they shared.

Brielle looked out the window as the plane ascended, her gaze fixed on the unfolding scenery beneath. The city lights faded into tiny dots as they rose higher into the night sky. Her tense expression gradually eased, and a fleeting sense of tranquility washed over her. As soon as they were in the air, Brielle calmed down, her face returning to its usual stoic state.

Surveying the interior of the plane, Brielle took in the scene. Her father, Damien, was immersed in work or reading, his focus undeterred by the commotion around him. Vincent was asleep, oblivious to the new company. Oscar and Victor engaged in an unfamiliar game, their laughter creating a rare moment of levity. Brielle, a stranger to such normalcy, observed with a detached curiosity.

The seat belt sign flickered off, granting the passengers freedom within the cabin. Brielle released Blake's hand, a silent exchange passing between them. She nodded toward Oscar and Victor, indicating her desire to join them. Blake understood and nodded back.

Approaching the brothers, Oscar greeted, "What's up, Brielle?"

"What game is that?" she inquired.

"This is chess. You don't know what chess is," Victor stated.

Brielle offered a nod, revealing nothing of her knowledge or lack thereof. Victor's frustration at the gaps in their upbringing flickered across his face, only to be met with Brielle's impassive gaze.

Oscar made room for Brielle, who sat down with unparalleled grace. Her posture exuded a sense of elegance, an acquired comportment from a life lived by rigid rules. As Oscar explained the intricacies of chess, Brielle absorbed the information with an unwavering focus, her face betraying no hint of emotion.

The lesson continued for an hour, with Victor and Oscar taking turns guiding Brielle through the complexities of the game. The chessboard became a temporary escape, a space where rules were clear, and outcomes determined by strategy.

As the plane began its descent, Brielle made her way back to her seat, readying herself for the landing. The aircraft halted, and Blake noticed flashes outside the window.

"What are those?" he asked.

"Paparazzi," Victor explained, nonchalant yet vigilant. Damien added a layer of warmth, covering Brielle with his trench coat. Victor replicated the gesture for Blake.

"Oscar, take their backpacks. Vincent, handle their suitcase," Damien instructed. Brielle hesitated momentarily, guarding a small potted plant. Oscar assured her of his care, prompting her to reluctantly hand it over.

Exiting the plane, Damien led the way, shielding Brielle and Blake from the intrusive flashes. The twins clung to each other, arms linked, as Damien and Victor navigated through the paparazzi maze.

In the car, the twins marveled at the grandeur of the estate through the tinted windows. As they approached the front gates, Brielle and Blake observed in silence, the imposing structure unfolding before them. The 20-minute drive was filled with a hushed excitement.

Arriving at the front door, Brielle turned to see the expansive mansion. Awe and amazement flickered briefly in her eyes, swiftly concealed behind the practiced façade of indifference. The car pulled up, and Damien spoke the words they never thought they'd here.

"Welcome home," he said, a promise of a new beginning.