My Choice and legacy
Remi’s POV
It was raining today, quite heavily. Thick raindrops hit against the windshield, relentless and noisy, like tiny fists beating a drum. It matched my mood perfectly—restless, unsettled, stormy inside and out.
I pulled up slowly to the small house I once knew all too well. A house filled with bitter memories I’d long tried to leave behind. The paint was faded now, peeling in spots, and the porch was sagging at one corner as if even the structure itself had grown tired of standing upright.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the rain, pulling my coat tightly around myself. My heart pounded with each step toward the familiar door. It had been years since I'd been here—years since I'd spoken to the woman who had made my childhood a living hell.
My aunt.
I knocked firmly, rain soaking my hair and running down my face. Moments later, the door creaked open.
My aunt’s eyes widened as she took me in, clearly startled. She looked older, thinner, worn down by life in ways I never expected. Her hair, once neatly styled, now hung limp and graying at her shoulders.
“Remi?” she whispered.
“Aunt Victoria ,” I said, voice steady despite the emotion twisting in my gut.
She hesitated, eyes shifting around me as if expecting someone else to appear. Finally, she stepped aside. “Come in. You’ll catch your death out there.”
Inside, the house was smaller than I remembered. Older. It smelled faintly of lavender and mothballs—exactly as it had when I was younger. Every surface was cluttered with memories I’d rather forget: family portraits, chipped dishes, worn furniture.
“I’m surprised to see you,” she said softly, shutting the door behind me. She seemed anxious, clasping and unclasping her hands. “Is everything alright?”
“No,” I said honestly, shaking water off my coat. “Not really. But that’s not why I’m here.”
She nodded slowly, cautiously. “Then why—”
“I need answers,” I said firmly, turning to face her fully. “Answers I deserved years ago about my real father.”
Victoria lowered her eyes, guilt flickering briefly across her face. “Sit down. Please.”
I followed her into the tiny, faded living room. She sank into her usual armchair, and I sat on the couch across from her. It was so quiet I could hear the ticking of the old grandfather clock.
“You hid things from me,” I began, voice surprisingly calm despite my inner turmoil. “Important things about my parents. About my family.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t deny it. “Yes. I did.”
“Why?” My voice cracked, betraying my hurt. “Why did you lie to me for so long?”
She drew in a shaky breath. “At first, it was jealousy. Then it became fear. Your parents… they were not like us, Remi. Not like me or your uncle. They were special. Powerful in ways we could never be.”
“So you punished me because you resented them?”
Victoria shook her head quickly, eyes pleading. “It was never that simple. We never meant to hurt you—not truly. But after your parents died, men came to us. Dangerous men. They paid us to keep quiet, to keep you hidden. They said it was for your safety, that if you ever learned the truth, your life would be at risk. We didn’t know how deep it ran until it was too late.”
My heart was pounding painfully now. “What truth? What were you so desperate to hide?”
She reached into a small wooden box on the coffee table, her hands trembling as she pulled out a faded photograph. She handed it to me gently.
The image showed my mother and father. Both smiling, beautifully dressed, standing in front of an estate unlike anything I’d ever seen. Behind them stood people whose faces spoke of wealth, influence, legacy—an ancient kind of power that radiated even from the faded image.
“They were from a family with ties to nobility. Not modern money like the Vaughns, but old, ancient connections. Connections that made them targets. Your mother wanted no part of it, neither did your father. They tried to leave that life behind,” she whispered. “But power always follows. It never lets go.”
I studied the photo, my heart aching fiercely. “Why did no one tell me?”
“We were scared,” Victoria confessed. “They warned us that if you knew, you'd become dangerous—or you'd be in danger yourself. They told us you had to stay hidden. They paid us, yes, but it was more than money. It was fear. We believed them.”
I swallowed hard. “And Jules?”
Her expression softened at the mention of her child. “Jules doesn’t know. Never knew. We kept our promise, even when the money stopped. We kept you hidden as long as we could. But you were always meant for more, Remi. You were never ordinary.”
My heart twisted. “Do you regret it? Do you regret what you did to me?”
Victoria ’s tears fell freely now. “Every day,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Every moment of every day. I know it doesn’t change anything, but it’s the truth.”
I let the silence hang for a moment, heavy and suffocating.
Then, finally, I exhaled. “I forgive you.”
She looked up sharply, surprise mingling with disbelief. “Remi—”
“I forgive you,” I repeated, stronger now. “I don’t want to carry this resentment any longer. Not for you, but for myself. I want peace.”
She covered her mouth with trembling fingers, shoulders shaking softly as relief overwhelmed her. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”
We sat quietly for a few moments, absorbing what had passed between us. Finally, Victoria seemed to remember something. She stood abruptly, moved to a desk in the corner, and pulled open a drawer. After rummaging for a moment, she returned with a small, sealed envelope.
“This was left with me,” she said, pressing it into my hand gently. “I was told not to open it. To give it to you only if the time ever came.”
I stared at the envelope, heart racing. “What is it?”
Victoria ’s voice trembled. “An address. He said, when it was time, I should give you this. He said it would lead you to your father.”
“My father?” I echoed. “Cedric?”
She shook her head gently. “Yes Remi. Your birth father. The one whose blood carries your legacy.”
My breath caught. Another mystery. Another piece of my life I never knew existed.
“Heard he is a powerful man. Even Rowan couldn't find him. How?” I whispered.
“He gave it to me. He made me sweat on Jules life.” Victoria hesitated before speaking. “he is someone very powerful. Someone very dangerous, who loved you deeply. He wanted to shield you from the life he'd been born into”
I stared down at the envelope, my fingers shaking.
“Be careful,” Victoria whispered softly. “If you follow this, you can never turn back.”
“I understand,” I said quietly.
Slowly, I tucked the envelope securely into my coat pocket. Then I stood, heart pounding again. Victoria stood too, watching me with sorrowful eyes.
“Goodbye, Aunt Victoria ,” I said softly.
“Remi,” she said suddenly, stepping closer, voice breaking again. “Please know—I truly am sorry.”
“I know,” I replied softly. “I believe you.”
I walked to the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. Turning back one last time, I saw the woman who'd caused me years of pain—but who had also been carrying burdens of her own.
“I hope you find peace too,” I said gently.
Then I stepped back out into the rain. This time, the downpour didn’t feel suffocating; it felt cleansing, like it was washing away the past.
The envelope pressed against my chest, heavy with secrets, truths, and possibilities. I didn’t know what I’d find at that address, who I'd meet, or what it would mean for my future. But one thing was certain—I could never go back to being the girl who didn't know her roots, who lived blindly among lies.
I would face whatever lay ahead head-on, u
nafraid of the storm.
Because this was my legacy. My choice. My story.
And no one could hide it from me anymore.
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