Chapter 7 Returning to Family
Leila's POV
The man at the front drew a sharp breath, his eyes fixed on my face with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than six months' rent for this basement.
"Leila," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're really Leila... We've been searching for you for twenty-five years. You're our sister!"
I blinked, certain I'd misheard. "Excuse me?"
"My name is Adam Randall," he continued, his eyes never leaving my face. "These are my brothers, Brandon and Jude. We're your brothers, Leila."
I gripped the doorframe tighter, suddenly dizzy. "This isn't funny. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but—"
"It's not a game," the second man, Brandon, interjected gently. "May we come in? We have a lot to explain."
My survival instincts screamed caution, but something in their expressions—a raw sincerity—made me step aside. The three men entered, their designer shoes incongruous against the stained linoleum floor. They surveyed my living conditions with poorly concealed horror.
"What do you want?" I asked, crossing my arms protectively over my abdomen.
Adam pulled an envelope from his jacket. "DNA doesn't lie, Leila. We found you through a medical database match. You're our sister who was taken from the hospital shortly after birth."
I took the envelope with trembling hands, scanning the contents. The scientific language was familiar enough from my medical background to understand the implications. A perfect genetic match to the Randall family.
"This is impossible," I whispered, though the evidence was literally in my hands.
The youngest brother, Jude, stepped forward. His eyes were kind, though rimmed with unshed tears. "We never stopped looking for you. Mom and Dad are on their way. They've been waiting for this moment for twenty-five years."
As if on cue, there was a commotion outside. Through my grimy window, I saw an elderly couple emerge from another luxury sedan. The woman moved with surprising speed, practically running toward the building.
Seconds later, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a distinguished couple appeared in my doorway. The woman froze when she saw me, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Elizabeth," the man beside her murmured, supporting her as she swayed slightly.
"My baby," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "My little girl."
Before I could react, she crossed the room and enveloped me in an embrace that felt both foreign and strangely familiar. She smelled of expensive perfume and something else—something that triggered a primal recognition I couldn't explain.
"We found you," she repeated, cradling my face in her hands. "All these years, we never gave up."
The man—my supposed father—approached more cautiously, his eyes suspiciously bright. "You look just like your mother did at your age," he said, voice rough with emotion.
I stood paralyzed, overwhelmed by their presence and the implications of what they were saying. "I don't understand. If what you're saying is true, how did I end up with the Reeds?"
Richard's expression darkened. "You were taken from the hospital nursery two days after your birth. The investigation went cold after a few years, but we never stopped searching. Private investigators, age progression photos, DNA databases—we tried everything."
Elizabeth finally released me, though she kept one hand on my arm as if afraid I might disappear. Her eyes traveled around the room, taking in the leaking ceiling, the mold-covered walls, and the bucket collecting rainwater in the corner.
"You've been living here?" she asked, horror evident in her voice.
"Only for the past week," I answered defensively. "After my divorce and being disowned—"
"Disowned?" Adam interrupted sharply. "The Reeds disowned you?"
I nodded, suddenly exhausted by the weight of everything. "When they found out I wasn't biologically theirs, they cut all ties. My husband divorced me the same day."
"Sterling," Richard practically spat the name. "We know all about him and what he did. The Reeds took our daughter, and Sterling threw you away when you were no longer useful to his business interests."
Elizabeth's attention had shifted to my face, her maternal gaze taking in details I hadn't realized were visible. "You're thin," she observed, her fingers lightly touching my hollow cheek. "And pale."
Her eyes drifted to my protective stance, one arm still wrapped around my midsection. A flash of understanding crossed her face.
"Leila, darling," she said softly, "are you pregnant?"
The room went completely silent. I felt five pairs of eyes fixed on me, waiting for confirmation.
"I..." My voice faltered. I hadn't told anyone yet; I'd barely had time to process it myself. "Yes. It's early. Less than a month."
Elizabeth's eyes filled with fresh tears, but she composed herself quickly. "A mother always knows these things," she said, squeezing my hand. "Whatever happens, we're here for you now."
Jude stepped forward, his expression fierce. "Randall BioPharm has the best prenatal care team in the country," he said with conviction. "You and the baby will have the best possible care."
I sank onto the edge of my bed, feeling lightheaded. "This is... a lot to take in."
Richard knelt before me, taking my hands in his. "I know this is overwhelming, but we'd like to take you home—to Chicago. To your real home."
"What about your life here?" Brandon asked gently. "Is there anything keeping you in San Francisco?"
I thought about it. My marriage was over. My career had been systematically destroyed. The only friends I'd had were connected to the Reeds or the Sterlings, and they'd all abandoned me.
"No," I said finally. "There's nothing for me here anymore."
Elizabeth sat beside me on the bed, wincing slightly as a droplet from the leaking ceiling hit her shoulder. "Then let's get you out of here. We have a private jet waiting."
As she helped me gather my meager belongings, I noticed Adam and Richard speaking in hushed, angry tones.
"They'll pay for this," Richard was saying. "Both families will answer for what they've done to her."
"No," I interrupted, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "The Reeds raised me as best they could. And as for Theron..." I swallowed hard. "I just want to move forward. Let the past stay in the past."
My newfound family exchanged surprised glances.
"You're remarkably forgiving," Brandon noted.
"Not forgiving," I clarified. "Just... selective about where I put my energy now." My hand drifted to my stomach again. "I have more important things to focus on."
Elizabeth smiled, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders. "You're right, of course. But if you ever change your mind..."
I packed my few possessions. As we prepared to leave, I took one last look at the miserable room that had represented the lowest point of my life.
Hours later, I gazed out the window of the Randall family's private jet as we soared above San Francisco. The city where I'd spent twenty-five years of my life spread beneath me—familiar streets and buildings now reduced to a miniature landscape.
"Goodbye," I whispered, my hand resting protectively over my stomach as the city disappeared beneath the clouds.