SECOND SHOT [HAMILTON]

TAKE PETER SMIT, THE MAN IS LOADED

We will come back to the Holt/Lafaray/Winter family soon, but let's check up on the others, shall we?

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   Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Will somebody turn that blasted thing off?"

Ella shot upwards, eyes wide to the incessant beeping echoing through her tiny bedroom.

Sweat dotted her face as she frantically clicked her alarm off.

"Sorry, Ms. Andrew!" She called as she pulled her door open, coming face-to-ugly face with her social worker.

After the last home she lived in went horribly, Ella took a temporary placement with the witch until a new family could be found.

Today, it finally was that day.

"God, you look horrible," the woman sneered, tugging at her inky black hair roughly. "Hopefully your next placement will teach you proper hygiene."

Wincing, Ella only ducked her head and slipped back into her room to get ready, ignoring the not-so-quiet slurs muttered by the woman as she left.

It wasn't her fault she was born a different ethnicity from her last life.

God, Ella missed her sisters.

She missed her parents.

She missed her Alexander.

Whipping her tears away with a delicate hand, she turned her attention to her small amount of belongings.

There was her clothes, which perfectly fit into the ratty suitcase she had, as there weren't many to begin with.

Next went her family photo. She shared a striking resemblance to her mother, though her father was American, big and burly with kind eyes that twinkled with the camera flash.

The advancements in her country never ceased to amaze her.

Finally, she clutched the yellow book tight to her chest, pages worn from years of flipping, yet none were torn or wrecked.

This was her most prized posession.

That slipped under her arm as the other dragged the suitcase along the creaky floorboards and down the stairs.

No breakfast was offered, though Ella was not expecting it.

She plunked herself down on the ratty couch, carefully opening up the book as if a treasure chest containing the secret of life within its pages.

"I don't know why you like that book so much," Ms. Andrew scoffed as her eyes flicked from her own breakfast of bacon and eggs to her watch, and back to the window.

"It's interesting to me," Ella said absentmindedly, ignoring the woman as she got lost within the pages for the hundredth time.

An engine roaring gently out front drew the girl out of her book, eyes raising to the window as an unfamiliar minivan sat in Andrew's driveway.

"Is that them?" She asked the woman whose eyes narrowed slightly, but gave a sharp nod.

In the span of that interaction, whoever was inside the van reached the door. The doorbell gave a sharp buzz.

"Well, go on!" Ms. Andrew snapped.

Quickly, Ella placed her book gently atop her suitcase as she dragged it to the door.

Opening the door gently, she came face to face with a tall, well-dressed man with a buzzed haircut and well-kept beard was standing there with a soft smile.

"You must be Isabella." He said matter-of-factly. "My name is Peter Smit."

"I prefer Ella," the girl in question responds quietly, to which Peter nods appreciatively.

Before they could converse further, Ms. Andrew pushed Ella aside not-too-kindly with a slightly love-struck look in her eye.

Ella barely held back a giggle at the sight of it all as her new foster father looked quite uncomfortable.

"Margaret Andrew, Ella's social worker," she says smoothly.

"A pleasure," Ella let out a quiet snort at his deadpan response, which caused her social worker to look taken aback.

Peter turned his attention back towards Ella with a wide smile. "Do you have all that you need?"

Ella nods mutely, refusing to look Andrew in the eye as she exits the house and follows him towards the van.

"Just a word of warning before we leave," Peter glanced back towards Ella as he opens the door for her. "I have two other children."

Ella just shrugs, uncertain on why she needed a warning.

"My eldest is Amanda, is about a year older than you," he smiled lightly. "And my youngest, Margot is a year younger."

"Alright." Ella said quietly as she flipped open her book while they drove.

As they pulled to a halt at a red light, Peter glanced sideways at her book. A range of emotions crossed his face, but he settled on a smile.

"Alexander Hamilton, eh?" He comments. "You know, I used to know him."

Taken aback, Ella closed her book eagerly. "As did I." She grinned back, running her thumb down the spine of the book.

"He was an amazing man," he paused, glancing her up and down. "and an incredible son-in-law."

Ella choked back a cry as she looked her father up and down again, shock and confusion dancing across her expression.

"Pa?"

"Elizabeth," he barely looked at her, but she could see the smile and light in his eyes.

"Amanda and Margot?" She questioned.

All he did was nod in response. At the next light, they turned off into a neighborhood of large, few-and-far between, overly-expensive homes.

Ella's eyes widen, and she leans into her father as they pulled into a wide driveway.

As she catches sight of a nearly-identical two-story brick building with white trimming, she couldn't contain her smile.

I'm home.

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Can you tell who Margret Andrew was? I only changed the last name.