At the Porter house, the mood had turned cold and anxious. Shella stared at her children, visibly shaken. "Are you certain it's her?"
"Positive. She's the image of her mother," Clyde confirmed, still turning his phone over in his hands like it might contradict itself if he waited long enough.
"Alan." Shella turned on her husband. "Why is she back? Did she contact you?"
"I cut off contact years ago. Why would she call me?" Alan's irritation barely masked his own unease.
"Dad, you have to send her away," Aria snapped. "I'm not sharing anything with her. That's clearly what she's here for."
"She's not entitled to a single thing from this house," Shella scoffed. "We took the Porter name back from her years ago. She won't get a cent."
"But dad's the one who took her grandfather's factory and stores," Clyde pointed out, unable to fully shake his unease. "What if she wants that back? We'd have nothing left."
