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"All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again."

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  A crystal chandelier hung from the crown molded ceilings above. Soft floral wallpaper addressed a canvas of oil paintings. Encased in cut crystal bloomed fresh white roses that permeated the air. Adjacent was a sitting room with antique furnishings in silk pastels, a finished grand piano in the far corner with a cherry wood stair case that gracefully curved upward, ahead.

  As Alex pushed the door closed a current of warmth leeched to her bones, accompanied by the crackling of wood in the marble fireplace adjacent. She found her lips parting as she wheeled her luggage to the side, precautious of the Persian rugs that stretched across the opulent Foyer.

  Her nails curled into the crimson leather jacket clenched in her grip, a sense of being an intruder palpable. Did she announce her presence? Moments such as these, made her loathe her habitual indecisiveness.

  "I'd like to have this palette of tiles brought in. It's imperative the master bathroom match the ambiance we are going for, Tilda," Rounding the arced staircase, a slender woman dressed in a butter-cream pantsuit emerged.

  A petite redheaded woman attentively trailed after with a clipboard. Clad in a crisp blazer and pencil skirt, the distinct click of heels resonated against the polished hardwood floors.

  "Now about the draperies, I was thinking a more mauve tone..." The woman's voice suddenly trailed off as she spotted Alex, assessing the droplets of water puddling on her gleaming floors.

  She stopped.

  Alex swallowed.

  All the years couldn't have prepared her for the day she'd face her step-aunt. Related through a complex marriage had made the visa process trickier. Nevertheless, her step-aunt obliged her and had paid the remaining balance in full. Thus, it placed Alex under her debt which was subtly implied before she'd flown out.

   The Darlings were the last members out of her small, relative family. Physically, she hadn't seen Aunt Marietta since the age of five. Due to trivial affairs her family failed to explain, they'd only been together one Christmas. She'd been left with only one explanation being that the Darlings were aristocrats well-established in high society. Bred from old money followed a long lineage with their surname serving as the family's emblem. Anything beneath their class was deemed irrelevant including familial relationships.

   Alex felt the ripple effects of this. As she stood there all her imperfections reflected glaringly from a callous inspection. Still, she scraped what vestige of composure she had left. "Hello... Aunt Marietta."

  The Whites were regarded as a stain on the family. After her mother graduated college she'd opted for a life in America, ever the adventurous spirit. Eventually this led to meeting a country boy from the Midwest, Alex's father having taken over his family's farm. They'd cross paths through mutual friends and consequently when they'd married, it soured their family's relations with the Darlings. It would cast a shadow over their marriage, leaving the families relevance as the "black sheep".

   The woman beside Marietta hid a snobbish laugh behind her hand. Her eyes passively—aggressively—taxed Alex behind thick spectacles perched on a delicate nose.

  In response, it snapped her aunt out of her pinned scrutiny. "Alex, darling." A slow, cold smile formed. The relative borne of reservation crossed the distance, brunette locks pulled back in an elegant twist that carried a sheen beneath the crystal chandelier. "My dear you look a fright."

  She bent down for a chaste kiss, her lips barely grazing the small hairs on her nieces cheek. The fragrance of her perfume practically stung her nostrils.

Her aunts frigid greeting had been expected.

Marietta had never been one to display much warmth. Even in her niece's personal circumstance. "Glad you made a safe flight here, Alexandria. Best if you change, you're looking a little... damp." Her sniff of laughter tapered with a swift clearing of the throat. "Arrangements have already been made for a new wardrobe. So you can dump these... rags."

  Gee, thanks. Alex bit her tongue as Marietta pinched the seasoned sweater between manicured fingers.

  Swiftly, she let go.

  "Well then," Her aunt clasped her hands as scarlet-glossed lips curved into a polished smile. "Hurry along, accommodations have been prepared on the second floor. There's a small gathering in less than an hour and I expect your attendance." She winked. "Just mind the upstairs mess, dear; we're in the thick of renovations."

  With a flourish, her aunt turned from Alex and resumed conversation with the prickly decorator. It was as if her lost step-niece hadn't reappeared after fifteen long years.

For a moment Alex stood there in stunned silence. How about how are you? How are you dealing with...? Her thoughts trailed off upon realizing it wasn't worth expressing. The years void of birthdays or holiday cards, much less a phone call when they'd lost her parents.

  I should've expected nothing less.
Numbly, she grabbed for her suitcase and started up the staircase. The ornate design carved into the wooden banister served as a reminder of just how many generations had passed in this homestead. Fascinated with history, it was intriguing to see visible traces of the family's forbearers.

  Stretching her stiff leg muscles after the long flight, she lugged the heavy bag up the wood stairs. Yet it wasn't long before she felt the shock thread through her upon ascending the last step.

  Scraps of floral wallpaper lay in tatters, revealing dusted outlines where picture frames once hung from the sun-bleached walls. Stacked on the floor were the remnants of gilded frames, now snapped into pieces.

  A contractor suddenly hurried past, large blueprints tucked under a burly arm. A couple of workers tipped their fluorescent hard hats at her as they followed behind. The hard set of their jaws betrayed a steely determination as their boots thundered down the wooden steps.

  Her brow furrowed as she pressed herself on, eyes falling across a solid oak door with a silver tarnished door knob, exuding an air of old money. As she pushed it open she was greeted by eggshell walls and a wrought iron bedpost. A single lead window framed by eyelet curtains afforded a view of the overcast skies, while a draft crept through a slivered gap in the weathered pane.

The room was cold, devoid of any warmth— just as lifeless and unwelcoming as the tone of her aunt's greeting.

  A large, flaking painting remained on the wall, depicting a prudish yet beautiful Victorian woman. She was adorned with a high lace neckline, gaudy pearls strung through her coiled curls. Behind an embroidered lace fan her eerily dark, vacant eyes seemed to mirror the emptiness she felt inside.

  The stench of pine was pungent as if the room had been offhandedly cleaned before her arrival. A last minute inconvenience. It evoked memories of a clinical department, still too fresh in her mind.

  The hospital...

  Her fingers unwound from around the handle of her suitcase before it dropped to the floor with a thud as fresh tears swelled.

  The lumpy mattress groaned under her weight, the springs protesting as she sat. It reeked of mothballs, as if it had been dredged up from the attic. But she couldn't bring herself to care. Warm tears trailed down her face, just as silent as the raw, scabbed fissures left on her psyche.

  She dug out the cheap cellular device she'd purchased from an offbrand network as darkness pooled into the room. The source of her grief flowed faintly from the devices screen, further illuminating a face that held a profound significance in her life, long after her parents tragic demise at a premature age. They had loved her dearly, bonding over a life of simplicity after moving into her family's home in the countryside.

  Most days, she refused the world her pain. She wasn't even sure she'd even grieved properly. She'd been so angry at first, often screaming herself hoarse at the night skies in retribution, pulling out chunks of grass with clenched fists, jeans permanently marred with grass stains. Only recently had that anger simmered to a distilled silence of acceptance. She had waited for the numbness to settle, even though they had insisted that their death should not debilitate her; they had made her promise this with a pinky swear.

Today however, had proven just how close that darkness was to swallowing her whole.

  "Well... look who it is."

  Alex would've been embarrassed to have exposed herself so vulnerably. Yet it felt insignificant when she lifted her head and greeted her stepcousin. "Angelica... long time."

Rich chocolate curls framed a heart-shaped face; visibly lacking the pudgy girth of childhood. Mascara emphasized large doll-blue eyes with a haughtiness in her upturned nose. She was the epitome of the Darling genetics. Once she'd been told Angelica closely resembled a great-great-great aunt Gwendolyn.

  Or as they had called her, "Wendy".

  Her bowed lips pressed firmly together. "How long has it been, Alexandria. Fifteen years I reckon?"

  "Yes," Alex replied slowly, "something like that." She raised herself to her feet, her taller stature giving her an advantage.

  The both had adopted a hardened stance, their lack of fondness for each other an understatement. The echoes of their past reflected by the nearly transparent scar across the bridge of her cousin's nose.

  Separated by a year in age, their mutual distaste stemmed back to their first 'playdate'. It began with Angelica dressed in a gaudy frilly dress playing the spoiled entitled princess. She had attempted to steal Alex's weathered—but beloved—teddy that had been handed down through the family line with a series of snobbish insults. In retaliation Alex had hurled a wooden block found in the playroom. The brunt impact broke the skin, resulting in her step cousin receiving stitches and Alex severely reprimanded by her own mother, Marissa.

  The same woman who had impressed rising above such conduct while drawing from her own experiences, particularly after wedding Alex's father, William.

  Her father, remembered as a hardworking yet humble man by nature, had emphasized the importance of kindness. The same man who had had to sell off the economical side of the farm when finances took a hit. Together her parents would bestow pieces of wisdom that would help shape her character in the future.

  She refused to disgrace them now. Eyeing the embossed bags from visibly prestigious boutiques, Alex quirked one brow, yet softened her tone. "Shopping I take it?"

  Angelica's glossy lips crooked with an almost sneer. "That's what you have to say to your dear cousin?" Indeed, time hadn't changed her. "It's a gift, daft one, to celebrate my upcoming career as a Burberry model."

   If such a normal person was lucky they were given an inquiry, gained entry with the right connections, or started off in smaller industries. Once they worked their way up into the higher echelons, the doors opened to more renown brands and better management.

  After winning a beauty pageant in the four-year old division, her mother had started Alex in the beginning process after obtaining the interest of an agent. However, once their finances took a hit her mother ended the pursuit.

To her credit, Angelica had natural beauty. Becoming a model was a quite a deal, but God help the poor souls that had to deal with her cousins' abhorrent behavior.

"Sounds hunky-dory." Alex added in afterthought.

  Angelica's lips dropped in a slight frown with a raised brow. "Aren't you interesting."  

  Her eyes passed over Alex's drenched appearance in the same mannerism as her mother. "Where did Mum pick you up from the slums?" She snorted. "You look quite the manky rodent."

  "How observant of you." Alex responded, indifferent. She crossed her arms. "And I was dropped off, thanks. Anything else?"

  Angelica flicked a nail she'd been carefully scraping the cuticle of, a habitual tic unchanged. "There's plenty, but I don't feel like wasting my time at the moment."

  "How generous of you."

  "Well, I need to get ready for the party. I don't care to associate with chavs."

  Thanks to her mother's upbringing Alex had been quite versed in English slang, so she didn't miss Angelica's little jibe. "Really, Angelica. I thought we'd be beyond this as adults now."

  "Old grudges die hard." Angelica's eyes narrowed considerably, irked by Alex's knowledge. "Sod off, Alex." She flipped back her natural curls, the bags crinkling under her hands just as she pivoted on her heel. "And in case Mum didn't inform you, you're to stay off the third floor."

  She assumed it had to do with these renovations her aunt had spoken of.With her luck, they'd work right above her with screeching drills and steel-toed boots. A recipe for irritable mood swings.

  Great.

  Angelica shot Alex one last glare before she trumped past her door with a slight "humph".

Moments later a door slammed down the hall.

  "Give me a break." Alex rolled her eyes and sighed. Taught not to sink to certain levels, her cousin managed to hit that one nerve.

  "ALEXANDRIA, IN FIFTEEN MORE MINUTES I EXPECT YOU DOWN HERE!" Aunt Marietta's sharp voice suddenly boomed up the stairway.

  Alex grimaced.

  From the moment she'd stepped past the threshold, control was no longer a luxury. This, she'd been warned of beforehand on her relative's deathbed. Still, experiencing it firsthand was surreal. Her aunt would seemingly capitalize on the advantages she had over her niece and jet lag wouldn't be deemed an acceptable excuse.

  As a young nineteen-year-old, Alex didn't have the means to live on her own. Upon her relative's passing, there hadn't been a secret trust fund in her name. Barely had they scraped by on social security checks, having just enough to get by on the last life insurance policy.  

  While her friends had departed for college and summer jobs, she'd been left at auction houses watching her livelihood be sold off piece by piece.

  The month of September hadn't been kind to her thus far. I'm fortunate the aunt even took me in.

  The distance to the armoire' shoved in the corner was short.  She sighed, a recessive habit as she pulled the door open. Embellished labels were tagged on shades of pastels to cooler colors. Ruffles—cringe—lace, silk, jeans to cotton. The fine attire that hung from the silk hangers far surpassed her previous standard of living, leaving her with a twinge of discomfort. She shoved aside the gaudy, nuisances of dresses, finally coming across a wool cream sweater and soft jeans.

  The last thing she desired was to be surrounded by an influx of strangers after her trek, looking fresh off the street.

  I wonder if I have time for a shower.

  "ALEXANDRIA TEN MINUTES!"

  Alex grit her teeth, Travel worn it is. This was going to be one hell of a new life.

  If only she'd known what truth that statement would bring. It would hinge too close to a reality that started from the very home that withheld a long, mysterious history.

  Dated back to four generations ago...