(HAILEY'S POV)
That fateful summer ten years ago, when I first stepped into the Williams' opulent Manhattan penthouse, I could never have imagined the rollercoaster ride that awaited me.
I was just a gangly eight-year-old, with mousy brown hair and a wariness etched into my features - the product of a life spent on the gritty streets of Brooklyn.
I remember the first time I laid eyes on Mom, resplendent in a red Valentino dress that accentuated her curves, her raven tresses cascading like a waterfall around a face that seemed to glow from within.
She moved toward me with the confidence of a queen, her heels clicking against the marble floor in a staccato beat. When our gazes met, she smiled, and for a fleeting moment, I felt the sting of tears at the corners of my eyes.
A decade has passed since then, and I've grown into a young woman who's struggled to find her place within this wealthy family. But as I look back on those formative years, I realize how lost and alone I often felt.
Mom always tried her best to show affection, showering me with expensive outfits and sparkling jewelry .
Dad, ever the charmer, would often swoop in with bear hugs and corny jokes, but deep down, I knew he'd be just as thrilled to have a son. Michael and I never quite clicked, our personalities as different as night and day.
He was the golden child, groomed from birth to take over the family business, while I felt like a misfit, struggling to find my place in their world.Victor was another story altogether.
With his sharp mind and introverted nature, we hardly crossed paths, even though we shared a roof. I often wondered what he made of me, this pesky little sister who invaded his solitude.
As the private jet began its descent into London, I gazed out the window, lost in thought. The sprawling cityscape below seemed to stretch on indefinitely, a canvas of contrasts that still managed to captivate me.
A part of me yearned to plunge into its rich history and vibrant culture, to find my own identity amidst its labyrinthine streets and ivy-covered buildings.
As the private jet touched down at Heathrow Airport, I felt a flutter of excitement mixed with a dash of trepidation.
London, a city that had always held a certain mystique for me, now loomed ahead, promising both adventure and uncertainty. Mom and I were escorted out of the aircraft, our belongings whisked away by the jet's staff as we made our way through customs.
The cool, damp air of the English morning greeted us like an old friend, the familiar scent of damp earth and fog hinting at the city's secrets waiting to be unearthed.
We boarded our sleek black Rolls-Royce, the tires purring against the pavement as we glided through the traffic-clogged streets.
Amidst the honking horns and whizzing cycles, I caught glimpses of iconic landmarks - Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, St. Paul's Cathedral - each one a testament to the city's storied past.
My eyes widened as we turned onto the Williams' estate's winding driveway, the imposing stone facade of the mansion rising before us like a sleeping behemoth.
Before I could even register the opulent decor, the car's doors swung open, and I was enveloped in a bear hug from my father, Leonard.
Dad's arms enveloped me in a warm embrace, his five o'clock shadow tickling my cheek as he pulled back to gaze into my eyes.
"Welcome home, kiddo," he rumbled, his voice rich with affection. "We've missed you something awful." I smiled, feeling a lump form in my throat at the genuine warmth in his eyes.
Mom appeared by his side, her raven hair gleaming under the morning sunlight as she pressed close to her husband. "Darling, it's so good to have you back," she purred, her emerald eyes sparkling with pleasure.
"We've been counting the days until your return." Dad turned to her, wrapping her in a possessive hug, his hands roaming over the expensive fabric of her dress. "Indeed, my love. London hasn't been the same without our favorite daughter."
Michael, standing at the edge of our little family reunion, shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flicking between me and our parents.
I trudged up the grand staircase, my feet heavy with the weight of travel and familial expectations.
The opulent foyer faded into the background as I neared my sanctuary - the lavish boudoir that was all mine. Plush carpets muffled my footsteps as I walked, the rich scent of mahogany and fresh flowers wafting through the air.
My bedroom door, adorned with an ornate iron knocker in the shape of a stately lion's head, swung open with a soft creak. I stepped inside, the soft glow of lamps casting a warm, golden light over the sumptuous space.
As I shed my traveling attire, a yawn caught me off guard, growing into a wide, tired smile. The comfortable four-poster bed beckoned, the plush comforter artfully arranged in soft, inviting folds.
I slipped between the cool sheets, the crisp scent of fresh linen enveloping me like a gentle embrace. As my eyelids grew heavy, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, the events of the day fading into the background as I surrendered to the allure of sleep.