Romero felt unusually heavy that morning. The storm clouds pressed against the windows, the sound of steady rain filling the silence of the mansion.
Bella sat in the safe suite, Jessy curled against her chest while Arabella played quietly on the rug with her dolls. She could hear faint footsteps upstairs Chris's men moving, the hum of a house that never rested. But her own heart was restless.
She looked at Arabella, those violet eyes, so familiar it made her chest ache and wondered again what role this little girl truly played in the storm that surrounded them.
The sudden sound of raised voices snapped Bella out of her thoughts. She rose, carefully placing Jessy in the crib and moving closer to the door.
"Who is he?" one of the guards barked.
"You know damn well who I am," a man's voice answered, rough and low.
The door opened, and Elliot stepped in, tension written across his face. Behind him stood a man broad-shouldered and tired-eyed, his dark beard flecked with gray. He looked like Chris but older, heavier, dishevelled.
Chris appeared from the hallway, his gaze narrowing as recognition struck him. He froze mid-step.
Hailey had come down the stairs at that exact moment, her hair loose around her shoulders, and behind her, Imelda hovered, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. Both women stopped short, their faces draining of color.
The silence was suffocating.
"Andrew?" Hailey whispered. Her voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fury.
Imelda's hands flew to the banister. "No... no, it can't be."
The man swallowed hard, shifting his weight. "It's me."
For a moment, the house seemed to tilt. Hailey's face twisted as years of buried rage spilled over. She descended the stairs fast, her heels clicking against the marble, and when she reached him, she struck him square in the chest.
"You bastard! You left us!" Her voice trembled with anger. "You left me to raise Imelda while Chris fought alone. You left us in that house with her!"
Andrew didn't move, didn't defend himself. His eyes dropped to the floor. "I know."
Imelda's lip quivered, her eyes wide with hurt. "You... you were supposed to protect us. You were our big brother. And you just disappeared." Her voice broke into a sob. "Do you know how many nights I prayed you'd come back? And you never did!"
Chris's jaw flexed, but he said nothing. He only stared, his chest heaving like a man holding back fire.
Andrew finally lifted his gaze, and his voice came out raw. "I wasn't strong enough. I was already drowning. If I stayed, I would've ended up in the ground."
Chris's voice finally cut in, cold as steel. "So you chose yourself over us."
Andrew's hands trembled. He tugged his sleeve up, just enough to show faded scars that lined his arm, marks that time had dulled but never erased. "I was already gone before I left. Every day in that house, under their control, I cut myself just to breathe. Just to feel something that wasn't theirs. Mother and Father they didn't just run that house, they owned us. And I couldn't survive it anymore."
His voice cracked, his mask slipping. "So I ran. With nothing but a fake ID and the girl who refused to leave me behind. She's my wife now. We built something in Australia, messy and broken, but mine. And all these years... I've been watching. Quietly. Paying people to keep tabs. I knew when you, Hailey, finally moved out. I knew when Imelda was sent to boarding school. I knew when Chris took over Hampson International. I never stopped watching. I just... couldn't face you."
Hailey's eyes flooded. She slapped him again, weaker this time, then pressed her hand to her mouth. "You coward. We needed you. And you weren't there."
Imelda shook her head, her chest heaving. "You watched? You watched while Mum broke us? While Chris bled himself dry keeping the company afloat? While I was... alone?" She shoved him weakly, then broke down in sobs against his chest. "I hate you. I hate you so much. But God, I missed you."
Andrew wrapped his arms around her, tears spilling freely now.
Chris's eyes never left his brother. He didn't move closer. Didn't soften. He was a wall, his stare a blade. "You say you've been watching," he said, his voice rough. "Then you know what she did. To Bella. To my son. To my daughter." His eyes burned. "And you stayed away until now?"
Andrew flinched. His voice cracked. "I came back because of Jessy. Because he's blood. Because Cassandra finally crossed the line I knew she'd reach one day. I couldn't stay gone."
The room fell quiet again, the weight of his words sinking in.
From the doorway, Bella stood frozen, Jessy balanced on her hip, Arabella clinging to her hand. She didn't know this man, didn't know his scars or his story but she felt the pain ripple through the room. She had lived through her own betrayals, her own losses. She knew what it meant to survive by running.
And as she looked at Chris, standing stiff and silent, and then at Andrew, broken but present, she realized one thing, this family had been built on secrets and survival, and every one of them was now cracking open.
For the first time in nearly two decades, all four Hampson siblings were under one roof.
And though the reunion bled with rage, regret, and unfinished wounds, there was something new in the air something fragile and unsteady.
Hope.
Chris turned thirty few months ago, a milestone he had once thought meaningless. But now, with Bella, with his children, with his siblings resurfacing from the shadows of their past he began to wonder if thirty might mark not the end of survival, but the beginning of something else.
Something like healing.