Life often takes us by surprise. But my life just got a nuclear bomb dropped on it, with a note from my mother that simply says "good luck".
I've spent seventeen years of my life wondering who my father is. My mom always told me he was a dead-beat who didn't want anything to do with me. Turns out, he didn't even know that I existed until two weeks ago. And he's definitely not a dead-beat. My dad is Mark Evers. Maybe you've heard of him? He is the creator and CEO of Staying Connected, the world's largest social networking site.
Once he found out about me, he flew to see me. Of course I had to do a DNA test... I can't blame the guy for that. My mom is kind of crazy, though he dated her... he slept with her... (It's really gross to think about anybody having sex with my mom). So maybe he's crazy too? I don't know. But we got the test results back, and it is true. I, Kihanna Foster, am Mark Evers' daughter.
Well, actually I am Kihanna Evers now. He insisted that I change my last name to Evers, and I wasn't keen on it, but my mom thought it was best. I went my whole life being Kihanna Foster, so Kihanna Evers is going to take a while to get used to.
As if finding my real dad wasn't enough, my mom decided it was best if I go live with him. I'm about to start my senior year, and she expects me to pack up and move across the country, but do I get a say in it? No.
So here I am, after a long flight from St. Louis to Mountain View, in the back of a limo all by myself on my way to my new home. My dad is too busy to pick me up from the airport, and I am about to start my new journey in life. Alone. Or at least that's how I feel... very alone.
I push my headphones into my ears, and turn up the music. Music helps calm me down. Normally, I've got music playing 24/7. But today the music is doing nothing for me. I don't think anything could help my anxiety at this point.
I pull out the goodbye note my mom wrote me, and read it once more. I already read it about twenty times on the plane. Kihanna,
I can never tell you how sorry I am for not telling you the truth. Keeping you separated from your father was my worst mistake, and I will regret it every day for the rest of my life. I know that it doesn't matter now, but I didn't tell you so I could protect you. I didn't want you growing up in that lifestyle. But I was very wrong.
I hope you enjoy the time with your dad. Enjoy your senior year. Make new friends. Get into a good college. I want you to have a good life... You deserve it. Know that I love you, and I will miss you every day that we are apart.
Love, Mom.
I put the letter away and wipe the tears from under my eyes. I had a good life with my mom. Sure, she's not a multibillionaire, but we had everything we needed and more. We lived in a nice two-bedroom home in a nice neighborhood. I went to a good school, and I had lots of friends. I never asked for more. I just hate feeling out of control. Every decision is theirs, not mine. I need to feel in control of something. But the closer I get to my dad's house, the more out of control I feel.
As we get closer to our destination, I can't help but notice how big the houses are getting. Each one is a little bigger than the previous one. After about fifteen minutes in the car, we finally turn right. As we pull into my dad's house, I let out a surprised gasp. I guess I'm still trying to comprehend "billionaire", because everything is way more extravagant than I pictured. There are iron gates that lead into the estates, and a security person is actually sitting in a booth. I wonder if they're always there? The gates open and we drive down a long pathway toward the house. Along the sides of the driveway, there are tall hedges blocking any view.
It's about a two-minute drive from the end of the driveway to the house, but it feels like an eternity. The first thing that I see is a huge circle fountain There is water spraying into the fountain from tiny lion statues. I've never seen anything like it before.
In front of the house... No wait, not house, it's a mansion... There are tons of colorful flowers, and palm trees. There is a concrete walkway made of stone, and there are huge columns that lead up to a huge double door. It's glass, and has an elegant brass outline.
The limo door opens, and it startles me. As I climb out, I am feeling very intimidated. This is where I live now.
"Wow," I hear myself say.
"Mrs. Evers is waiting on you inside," the limo driver tells me. It's then that I realize I've just been standing there, staring at the mansion in front of me.
"Right," I say. "Where is my luggage?"
Just then a couple of guys dressed in butler uniforms come out. They grab my purple luggage out of the trunk.
"I can carry that," I quickly tell them. They ignore me. Right. Because when you're rich you don't actually have to carry your own stuff.
"Follow us, Miss Evers," one of them instructs me. So, I follow them to the front doors. They open the door for me, and a blast of cold air hits me in the face.
I am not sure what I was expecting on the inside, but this is definitely not it. There isn't much in the entryway. The floor is white marble; there are two elegant staircases that lead upstairs. There is a balcony at the top of the stairs, and a hallway in both sides. The staircase is the same white marble as the floor, and the railings are brass, just like on the door. Two large white columns are underneath the balcony.
I look up and see a huge chandelier. It looks very expensive, and it's very clean. Do they have a chandelier cleaner? Who would want to climb up that high?
I hear a pair of heels clacking against the marble floor, and look up to see an attractive woman in a very expensive-looking suit walking toward me. She has bleached-blonde hair, and her tan is way too dark. Her large breasts are halfway hanging out of her too-tight top.
"You must be Kihanna." She smiles. It's definitely a fake smile.
God, please do not let this be my stepmom.
I smile back. "Yes."
She pulls me into a hug, and it's then that I smell her perfume. She smells good at first, like vanilla, but then I realise it's a bit overpowering. I hold my breath until she releases me.
"I'm Veronica Evers, and I am very excited to meet you." She doesn't look that excited. But her face is so tight, I'm sure it's hard for her to show any emotions.
Just then, another person joins us - a tall blonde guy, with a surfer tan, and pretty blue eyes.
"This is my son, Toby Anderson. He's your stepbrother," she explains. Yeah, because I wouldn't have been able to figure that out on my own. I continue smiling, and my cheeks are starting to hurt from all the fake smiling. "It's a pleasure to meet you Veronica and Toby." It is a lie, but I'm sure I will get used to them, right? They are family.
Toby pulls me in for a hug, and squeezes me way too tight. His hands are also way too low on my back, and he smells like pot. "The pleasure is all mine," he whispers in my ear. I back away and try to hide the disgusted look on my face.
"Toby, why don't you show your new sister to her room," Veronica suggests.
"Stepsister," Toby reminds her, insinuating the word step, and then he winks at me.
I want to roll my eyes at him, but I don't. I don't want my new family to get the wrong impression of me. I will just suck it up.
"After you, sister," Toby says, motioning toward the staircase. "I walk up the stairs, and he follows me. I glance back at him, and see him checking out my butt.
Oh my God - my stepbrother is checking me out! Gross!
As we walk toward my room, Toby points out his own bedroom. "If you ever get bored, or lonely, come see me."
Yeah, this has to stop. "Not going to happen. And don't ever check me out again. You're my brother, and it's gross."
"Stepbrother," he protests, licking his lips. "And you have a nice body." His eyes are looking at my chest as he says this. I cross my arms in an attempt to cover my breasts.
"Just show me my room." I glare at him.
My bedroom better have a lock on the door. It's the last room on the right. I turn on the light and look around the room and am in shock. It's huge and foreign.
There is a king-size four-poster bed with a beautiful cream-colored bedspread - I'm guessing the thread count is like a million.
