11. Nessa

Why do I keep fooling myself, thinking I'm stronger than I actually am? Despite all the acceptance and love I've found in Silverbrook, I thought I could handle the Caldwell's toxicity. I was wrong. The moment my plane touched down in California, the harsh reality set in. After insisting I come, my parents couldn't even bother to pick me up, sending an Uber driver instead. It was a sign of what awaited me.

Arriving home to an empty house, I found my bedroom in disarray, filled with boxes, my bed shoved against the wall, and the mattress stripped bare. As I made my bed, it dawned on me that the progress I'd made at Silverbrook was at risk of being erased.

Barely three days in, and I'm already dreaming of escape, back to where I'm seen for who I am, not the financial burden I represent. My contemplation is abruptly interrupted by a sharp nudge. I turn to face my sister, her presence as rigid as ever.

At twenty-nine, she's much older, and it shows not just in years but in the severe set of her mousy brown bob that frames her stern face. Her clothing, always conservative, wraps her in an air of rigid propriety, but it's the shiny golden cross hanging around her neck that catches my eye. She wears it like a talisman, as if it could cleanse the venom she so readily spews.

"I asked you to set the table," she says, her annoyance barely concealed.

I'm deaf, bitch, I sign, my frustration boiling over, though the gesture falls on deliberately ignorant eyes.

She narrows her eyes at me. "I don't understand sign language," she retorts dismissively as if my inability to hear was a mere inconvenience to her ordered world.

"And I'm deaf. Why talk to me from behind?" I shoot back, my patience wearing thin.

She sighs, her disapproval manifesting in a slight shake of her head, causing her bob to swing almost comically. "Why must you complicate everything?"

I nearly snap at her, wanting to point out that my disability isn't a chosen inconvenience, but instead, I just roll my eyes and head to the kitchen.

Four more days. I just have to survive four more days in this house before I can return to Silverbrook, to a place where I'm valued beyond my family's skewed perceptions.

As I methodically set the table, an unsettling feeling of being watched creeps over me. Without even needing to look, I half expect it to be my sister's husband—my brother-in-law, Ian. Just as pretentious as my sister, yet his way of lurking around me always adds an extra layer of discomfort. I've caught him more than once throwing curious glances my way, fueled, no doubt, by whatever fantastical stories my sister has spun about my lifestyle. The irony isn't lost on me; whatever bizarre tales he's been fed seem to pique his interest far more than they should.

With a resigned sigh, I decide to confront the sensation of eyes drilling into my back. Turning around, I find Ian exactly where I sensed him, confirmed without surprise. There he stands, the short, balding man with ginger hair, awkwardly leaning against the open bay window. In his hands is a tray of burger buns destined for my father, who's currently manning the barbecue outside.

"Can I help you, Ian?" I address him, my tone even, devoid of the curiosity he seems to harbor about me.

Caught in the act, he startles visibly, almost comically so. For a moment, he fumbles with the tray, then, without a word, he turns briskly, making a beeline for the garden and away from my questioning gaze.

I shake my head. "Creep," I mutter as I go back to my task.

Minutes later, my mother breezes past me toward the door with such haste it's as if she's on a mission. A sinking feeling hits me. Has she invited her church group cronies over? I mentally prepare for the onslaught of backhanded compliments and pitying glances they're bound to throw my way, all of which my mother will absorb with her perfected look of weary martyrdom, no doubt securing her some compassion at their next gathering.

My grip tightens around the knife I'm holding, freezing midmotion when she reenters the room, but not with the anticipated vipers in tow. Instead, it's Liam who follows her inside.

Hello, beautiful, he signs, and for a moment, I'm too stunned to process that he's learned ASL.

I blink several times, pressing my nails into my palm, half convinced I'm dreaming. This can't be real. Yet, as I stand there immobilized, Liam's gaze drops to the knife still clutched in my hand, a smile playing on his lips.

I see I made it just in time to prevent you from committing murder. Put the knife down, he signs, his fluency surprising me further.

My mother's frown forms as I set the knife down with a clatter, louder than intended.

You speak ASL?I sign back, still in disbelief.

His smile broadens, even as my mother's frown deepens into a scowl.

Surprise,he signs again.

"Stop signing," my mother snaps abruptly. "It's rude when people around you don't understand."

I'm on the verge of retorting when Liam smoothly steps in. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I just assumed you'd know sign language, considering your daughter is deaf."

The color drains from my mother's face, the implicit criticism hitting its mark. "Well… Vanessa said it wasn't necessary," she deflects poorly.

Did I?The question echoes silently within me, astonishment and gratitude flooding in as I turn my attention back to Liam, his presence suddenly transforming the room's stifling atmosphere.

"This young man informed me he's your friend. Isn't that… nice?" my mother remarks, casting a glance over her shoulder full of disbelief.

I understand her shock. Liam and I are worlds apart, especially today. He's dressed with particular care, his black designer pants and a royal-blue dress shirt accentuating his broad shoulders and muscular arms, a stark contrast to the casual atmosphere of our family home. His light-brown hair is styled flawlessly, making him stand out even more.

"It would be my utter pleasure to stay," he replies. The charming smile he offers sends my mother into a mild flutter as she hurriedly excuses herself to the kitchen.

Compelled by a mix of emotions, I rush toward him, barely stopping myself from embracing him right there.

"What are you doing here?" I ask quickly. The relief of seeing a friendly face in this setting is immense, yet a part of me fears how he might perceive me after an evening under my family's critical eye.

He responds not with words but with a tender gesture, his hand reaching up to gently caress my cheek.

"I realized you needed someone to fight for you at least once," his gaze never wavers from mine, conveying a sincerity that pierces right through me.

In that moment, with his simple, profound declaration, the thought crosses my mind, unbidden yet undeniable, How can I not fall for you, Liam Ashford?

Our bubble of solitude abruptly bursts when Liam's attention shifts, looking past me. I turn, following his gaze, to find my sister standing there, her eyes sharp and assessing, casting a shadow over our brief respite of connection.

Here goes nothing.

Bracing myself, I step to the side, positioning myself so I can keep an eye on both Lily and Liam. "Lily, this is my friend Liam. Liam, meet my older sister, Lily."

Lily scrutinizes him for a moment before nodding. "Should I bother remembering the name of this week's favorite?" she quips, followed by a laugh. "Oh, I'm just kidding."

But I know she isn't.

Liam's laughter doesn't reach his eyes, which lack their usual spark of genuine amusement. "No worries about my name, Milly. As long as Nessa remembers, that's all that matters," he says. His attempt at a smile doesn't quite reach those eyes, betraying the fa?ade.

I press my fingers to my lips, stifling the urge to laugh at his quick comeback.

Lily's eyes narrow, her lips pursing in disapproval. "Seems you've met your match, Vanessa," she remarks dryly. "Dinner's in five. Mother sent me to give you a tour."

As if I needed someone else to show Liam around my own house.

"There's no need. We won't be staying long," Liam interjects, his voice carrying a finality that leaves no room for argument as he moves toward the dining room.

We?I mouth silently, but he doesn't see it; his attention is already captured by the so-called wall of pride.

Lily, beaming, gestures toward the wall. "This showcases our family's milestones," she declares with a hint of pride.

I observe silently, the usual sting of being overshadowed by Lily's achievements absent this time as Liam examines the wall. It's a catalog of Lily's life. Her academic and personal milestones dominate, punctuated by rare family moments, including my graduation, which is almost an afterthought at the bottom.

Liam's frown deepens the longer he looks, a silent acknowledgment of the imbalance before him.

And then, his expression shifts, lighting up as he spots my graduation photo, smaller and less conspicuous than the others. "Ah, saving the best for last, I see," he comments after turning to wink at me. In that moment, any barriers I had left begin to crumble under the weight of his genuine warmth.

My sister parts her lips, undoubtedly ready to spit some more venom, but our father's entrance with Ian interrupts her.

"Oh, and who's this?" Dad inquires, curiosity piqued.

Lily's smile contorts into something unpleasantly smug as she glances at me, ensuring I don't miss her next words. "Oh, this is Vanessa's latest fling, Liam."

That's about as much as I can stomach. Without engaging further, I head to the kitchen. Liam's already had a taste of my family's dynamics; he can manage without me for a bit.

Returning with Mom, arms laden with side dishes, we find everyone settling around the table. Lily's scowl tells me everything I need to know—Liam won another round.

I want to remind her that she's a twenty-nine-year-old married woman who's trying for a child, not a schoolgirl competing for attention. But, considering she's usually the center of our family universe, her current displeasure is almost… refreshing.

Suppressing a snort, I slide into the chair next to Liam, wondering how Lily's coping with not being the main character for once.

Liam shoots me a puzzled look, but I just shake my head. That's a story for another day.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Ian suddenly asks, breaking into the thick silence as we begin our meal.

I've never been Ian's biggest fan, but right now, I'm silently thanking him for cutting through the tension that's obvious, even to me.

Liam responds with a polite shake of his head. "I doubt it. Our paths don't seem like they'd cross."

This Liam is new to me. He's not just defending; he's on the offensive with every word, and I can't lie—I'm here for it. Seeing him like this is oddly satisfying.

Ian flushes a little at the jab, but instead of backing down as he usually would, he goes on.

"I'm sure I've seen you before."

"Well, I visit California annually for the Vanderbilts' golf tournament. Perhaps you've seen me there? Or maybe you were caddying?" Liam is nonchalant, but the underlying dig is unmistakable.

I can't contain a snort at Liam's remark, quickly turning it into a cough and reaching for my water, all too aware of my sister's glare.

"Or maybe you've been to London?" Liam adds, throwing another possibility into the mix.

Ian's never left our small corner of the world, despite his grandiose self-image, courtesy of his status as the pastor's son. "Ian's idea of travel is the church retreat upstate," I add, not bothering to hide my amusement.

"That's not accurate. I joined a church delegation to Northern Europe eight years ago," Ian asserts, a hint of pride on his face.

I half expect Liam to counter that, too, but instead, he simply nods. "Perhaps I just have one of those faces."

"You really don't," Lily unexpectedly admits, then seems caught off guard by her own words. It's undeniable—Liam's charm is evident, and even Lily can't overlook it. After regaining her composure, she turns to me with a less-than-subtle dig. "Well, at least my husband can drive to the supermarket, unlike you. Does Liam know about your DUI? That you can't drive?"

Her words hit hard, deflating me. Haven't gotten around to my criminal highlights yet, I think bitterly.

Liam, unfazed, continues eating. "She mentioned it," he lies smoothly, throwing me a supportive wink. "But being her driver isn't a problem for me."

"I'll be able to drive again soon," I counter Lily's snide comment.

Liam casually mentions, "And we'll have you learning stick shift if you're up for driving the Aston Martin."

That catches Ian's and Dad's attention instantly—cars, their universal language.

As Lily gears up for another jab, Mom cuts in, "Are you staying at a hotel nearby?"

Liam shakes his head, "No, we're planning to head back home tonight."

Mom catches the "we" immediately. "We?"

"Yes," Liam affirms, placing his hand over mine. "Vanessa and I."

Dad scowls at our joined hands, and Mom looks utterly shocked.

"Wait just a minute, young man. My daughter is here for the week, and you have no right to make decisions for her! And keep your hands to yourself at the table—it's improper for unmarried people," my father erupts.

Jesus M. Christ, not this again,I think, bracing for the usual tirade.

"Yeah, well, considering all the men she's been with, I'd say she's already on her way to hell," Lily chimes in with her two cents, ever ready to cast stones.

"Lily!" Mom snaps, more to curb Lily's outspokenness than to defend my honor, I'm sure.

I attempt to withdraw my hand, feeling the weight of their judgments, but Liam's grip is firm, unwavering. "It's not up to me," he acknowledges, then turns to me, his gaze softening. "Do you want to go home?"

Considering the disaster this visit has been and how Liam's presence is stirring the pot even more, I nod without hesitation.

His smile is all the assurance I need. "Then it's settled," he declares confidently.

"It is absolutely not settled!" My father's face turns a shade of purple I didn't know was possible for a human.

"Jerry, calm down. She can't just leave; it's too late to get a plane ticket now," my mother tries to reassure him, thinking she's cornered us with logistics.

Liam's counter is swift and smooth. "No need for a plane ticket. My jet's ready whenever we are."

"But Vanessa isn't going anywhere, are you? You're aware of the consequences," Mom says, her voice laced with a warning about my grandfather's college fund.

"Oh, are you referring to her grandfather's funds?" Liam's words catch my mother off guard, her face draining of color. "Yes, Nessa shared that with me. A real class act," he remarks, the sarcasm in his tone unmistakable.

"This is a family matter. It doesn't concern you," my mother snaps, attempting to reclaim some ground.

Liam remains unfazed. "I agree, it shouldn't involve me. And now, it won't involve you either. John Sterling from Sterling March LLP has been appointed as the fund's custodian on behalf of Vanessa. You'll find the official court documents in your mail tomorrow morning. Though the bank has already been notified, so I'd imagine your access is now restricted."

My mother's response is a series of incoherent attempts to speak, her shock rendering her speechless. Meanwhile, my father, with a mix of disbelief and urgency, pushes his chair back with such force it falls back, and he storms off to the home office, presumably to check the veracity of Liam's claim.

Liam's gentle squeeze on my hand draws my gaze back to him. Go pack, he signs, a calm command in the midst of the unfolding chaos.

I can't leave you with them,I sign back, hesitant to leave him alone with my mother and Lily, who are now directing their frustration at him.

Trust me, I've dealt with worse. Go. I'll be waiting, he reassures me, his composure unwavering.

Rising from my chair, I cast one last glance at Liam, his confidence bolstering my resolve. I hurry upstairs, my mind racing with the events unfolding. This feels too surreal, like a dream I'm afraid to wake from, dreading the crash back to reality.

The house is in an uproar as I come down with my bag, but amid the mayhem, Liam's presence is a calming force. He nods toward the door, and we head out, leaving the chaos behind. My mother steps into my path as we're about to leave.

"You'll regret turning your back on your family for a fling, Vanessa. This is another cardinal sin."

I pause, a bitter laugh escaping me. "What's one more, Mother? Just add it to my tab," I retort, the words laced with a weariness born of years of judgment.

Liam leads me to the car, and as we drive away, the reality of leaving my tumultuous family life behind begins to sink in.

In the quiet of the car, watching the familiar fade into the night, a single thought occupies my mind, How can I not fall for Liam Ashford? His strength and kindness tonight, against the backdrop of my family's disapproval, only deepened my feelings for him.

As we reach the airfield and the jet that promises a return to Silverbrook, I realize this may be the start of something more than just an escape—it could be the beginning of everything.