Chapter 2 | Merging

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⭐ Leona's POV ⭐


"Happy 23rd Birthday, Leona!" Someone shouted.

Groaning, I buried my head further into the pillow. "Let me sleep."

"Leona." I heard father's voice. "We are about to land. You need to get up."

"Land? Where are we landing? Aren't we in Houston only?" I mumbled with my eyes still closed.

I heard him sigh loudly and mother said, "We are about to land in Sydney, Leona. We are not in Houston."

Oh, yes.

I sprang up suddenly and rubbed my eyes and saw mother and father standing infront of the bed.

"Get ready soon. We will land in half an hour", father told me and then coming closer, he kissed my forehead. "And happy birthday, daughter."

Mother did the same and wished me happy birthday before going back outside.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, I quickly got up and freshened up, and dressed up in a comfortable, yellowish t shirt and a pair of black jeans.

I went out a sat down on one of the seats infront of my parents and buckled up my seat belt for the landing.

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I love Australia.

There's no doubt in that. Ever since I first came here, I got addicted to this place. It gives me a warm, happy vibe.
And especially the loving family I got here.

Matthew Hamilton and Nelson Andrews friendship grew with my dad, Gareth Wilbrose over the years and now, they are like brothers and they both love me like their daughter. Their wives and children included except that one asshole.

A scowl formed on my face on remembering him. Fucking asshole. Rafe Hanzall Andrews.

I tried to be friends with him when I first met him but his rudeness just pissed me off.

I groaned realising we have dinner with them all tonight, on my birthday and he will be there. I can't let him ruin my birthday. Never.

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( Leona's dress👆)

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( Leona's dress👆)

"Can you please look over the soup while I set the table, Leona?", Delancy, uncle Matthew's wife asked me as I stood beside her in the kitchen at her house.

I nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Thanks." She smiled softly and left the kitchen leaving me alone and I gently stirred the soup.

A few seconds passed by and I felt someone staring at me. I slowly turned around to see Rafe leaning against the kitchen entrance. He wore a black shirt with the top two buttons opened, his grey coat draped over his forearm. His black hair looked messy with a few strands falling on his forehead. A glass of whiskey in his hand and his striking emerald eyes fixed at me.

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