Carried Home

The sleek black car rolled smoothly over the asphalt, the quiet hum of the luxury engine filling the heavy silence. Hazel sat rigid against the plush leather seat, trying her hardest not to cause a scene or be a burden. She quietly wiped away the fresh tear stains streaking her face, her small knuckles rubbing at her raw skin.

Sitting beside her, Declan watched the tiny girl from the corner of his eye. A strange, conflicting pull tightened in his chest. Normally, he daydreamed of making whiny, snot-nosed brats disappear off the face of the earth. Crying kids annoyed him. But seeing Hazel like this—shivering, swallowing her sobs, hiding her suppressed sadness—stirred an unfamiliar tenderness deep within his gut.

He shifted in his seat, awkwardly reaching out. His large hands cupped her small face, his fingers framing her delicate jaw. He grabbed a tissue and wiped her remaining tears. His movements were stiff and unpracticed, lacking the soft touch of a mother, but the rough gesture carried a strange warmth.

"In a couple of weeks, I will bring you back for a visit," he promised, his voice gruff, lacking its usual cold edge.

Hazel blinked, her wet eyelashes fluttering. She whispered a tiny, breathy thanks.

For once, Declan dropped his untouchable, aloof act. He let his hand slide from her cheek, gently ruffling her messy hair. The soft strands slipped through his fingers as he offered a silent reassurance.

Thirty minutes later, the luxury car glided through tall iron gates and parked in front of the Sinclair family villa. The twenty-five-million-dollar mansion loomed over the pristine driveway, a massive structure of sleek glass, dark stone, and modern architecture.

Hazel scrambled out of the car. Her worn shoes hit the expensive pavement. She stared up at the towering entrance, feeling tiny and overwhelmed. The sheer scale of the unfamiliar mansion made her stomach twist. She desperately craved comfort.

She followed Declan up the grand steps and stopped just past the threshold. The floor beneath her was spotless, gleaming marble. She hesitated, terrified of dirtying the pristine surface with her dusty shoes. Her small chest heaved. With a trembling voice and fresh tears brimming in her eyes again, she looked at the tall boy ahead of her.

"Declan," she called out timidly.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"Can I hold your hand?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Just for a bit... I am scared."

She lifted her fingers, but a sharp memory stopped her. He disliked being touched. He had made that clear before. Panic flared in her chest. She quickly pulled her hand back, her head drooping in shame.

"Sorry," she murmured, offering a pitiful apology to the floor.

Before the crushing embarrassment could swallow her whole, the crisp scent of fresh mint and expensive cologne washed over her. Strong hands grabbed her waist. Declan lifted her straight off the ground. Her feet dangled in the air as he pulled her into his broad chest, settling her safely in his strong arms.

"I cannot stand hearing people apologize," he stated firmly, his deep voice vibrating against her ear. He leveled a serious gaze at her. "Do not say it again."

Hazel gasped softly, taken aback by the sudden height. She nodded obediently. Taking a small risk, she carefully tugged at the collar of his dark shirt, watching his sharp features for any sign of annoyance. When she realized he was not going to push her away, she let out a shaky breath. She relaxed her rigid muscles, melting against his firm hold.

"Declan, you are the best," she whispered, burying her face into his warm shoulder.

Declan pressed his lips into a tight line, masking the slight shift in his expression. He simply adjusted his grip, holding her a little tighter as he carried her deeper into the sprawling estate.

Miles across the city, Daphne followed Arthur Prescott up the walkway of a breathtaking mansion. Outwardly composed, she kept her posture straight and her expression mild. Yet, her eyes darted around wildly, absorbing every detail. She stared at the manicured hedges, the towering water fountains, and the intricate gold trimmings flanking the front doors.

Her heart raced. Her blood burned with barely contained excitement. This was the Prescott family estate—the richest house in Oakhaven City. She was finally taking Hazel’s place. She would sleep in a massive bedroom, eat fancy food, and rule this magnificent house.

Arthur pushed open the heavy double doors. They stepped into the grand, seemingly empty foyer. The silence of the mansion stretched out, thick and expectant.

*BANG!*

A loud explosion shattered the quiet air. Daphne shrieked, ducking her head and throwing her hands up. Colorful confetti rained down from the upper balcony, floating everywhere and landing in her hair.

"Welcome to our family, Hazel!"

Celine Prescott emerged from the adjacent living room, flanked by her children. They cheered loudly, holding smoking party poppers. A maid instantly stepped forward from the shadows, unfurling a massive, glittering banner that read: *A WARM WELCOME TO HAZEL!*

Daphne’s face instantly went blank. The triumphant joy drained from her features, replaced by a cold, jarring shock.

Celine and the Prescott kids froze. Their bright, welcoming smiles vanished in a split second, as if an invisible hand had physically slapped them across their faces. They stared at the unfamiliar girl standing beside the patriarch.

Arthur rubbed his forehead, letting out a heavy groan. He realized his massive mistake. He forgot to mention the change in plans.

"This is Daphne," Arthur awkwardly muttered into the thick, suffocating tension.

Celine gasped, her eyes widening in horror. She immediately waved a frantic hand at the maid. "Take that banner down! Right now!"

The maid scrambled to fold the glittering sign. Celine hurried forward, the heels of her shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. She looked genuinely guilty, her hands hovering as if unsure whether to touch the new girl.

"Oh my goodness, Daphne, I am so sorry," Celine profusely apologized, her face flushed with embarrassment. "We messed up. This is a huge screw-up. I swear to you, we will throw a much bigger welcome party for you next time."

Daphne assessed the situation with lightning speed. She smartly bit her quivering bottom lip, forcing a glassy sheen of moisture into her eyes. She gave a tiny, pitiful nod, pulling her shoulders inward to look as small and fragile as possible.

The calculated reaction worked flawlessly. Celine visibly winced, looking like she had just kicked the little girl in the stomach.

"Clear the living room!" Celine commanded the nearby staff, her voice tight with panic.

A swarm of servants rapidly scrambled out of the woodwork. Daphne stood silently, watching as the staff frantically cleared away a mountain of expensive presents. They hauled off giant, fluffy teddy bears wearing silk bows. They boxed up racks of custom-made dresses adorned with lace. They snatched up velvet display boxes holding glittering diamond hairpins.

Every single item was explicitly meant for Hazel.

The beautifully planned surprise morphed into an epic disaster. The grand living room was stripped bare of its festive joy in mere minutes.

Unable to bear the suffocating awkwardness, Celine grabbed Arthur’s arm and pulled him into a nearby study to talk, shutting the heavy oak door behind them.

The polite Prescott kids stayed behind in the foyer. They stepped closer to Daphne, going out of their way to be nice. They offered warm smiles, asking her about the drive and offering to show her the sprawling gardens.

But Daphne could not care less about their kindness. She nodded mechanically, pretending to listen, while her mind remained bitterly fixated on the removed presents. Jealousy clawed at her throat. She gripped the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles turning white.

Why did they take the gifts away? If they got the wrong child, they should have just given her all of Hazel’s stuff. She was their new daughter now. She deserved those diamond hairpins and silk dresses.

She cast a dark, fleeting glare toward the closed study door. She viewed her new adoptive mother with deep contempt, silently vowing that she would take everything this rich family had to offer, piece by piece.