Chapter 1 - Lilibeth
I step out of JFK and am immediately greeted by the sounds, heat, and smells of New York City. After two years away, I realize I had forgotten how bustling this place can be. Cab drivers pick up passengers faster than people can take their suitcases off the luggage belt.
For a brief second, the onslaught of sights and sounds reminds me why I left in the first place. Straight out of college, I wanted some quiet to figure out what I needed from life. My room walls were filled with pictures of villages in the Philippines and the cobblestoned paths of Europe, and I convinced my brothers to let me see the world, to fulfill my dream of traveling. The two years of backpacks and hostels, of being nobody special, felt like a dream.
And now that dream feels like it’s been smacked right out of me as a driver abuses a customer for not leaving a tip. Good old New York.
Thank God for my travels; the memories of which I now know keep me sane, and I will carry them forever.
For those two years, I was mistaken for just another American girl trying to stretch every dollar while on the road. Little did people know about my hidden bank accounts, which I never touched on principle due to the independence I was pursuing, or the plain-clothed bodyguards observing my movements from a considerable distance when traveling through dangerous cities.
But now, I’m finally back home.
I scan the arrivals area for my driver, expecting one of the many our family employs. Instead, a squeal pierces through thechatter of the terminal, stealing my attention to the source of the sound.
“Beth! BETH!”
My eyes widen at the sight of two blonde women barreling toward me through the crowd. Both of them are running so fast that their security detail finds it hard to keep up. I laugh at the image, their bodyguards frowning at their heels, as I move to greet my cousins.
Sofia and Natalia aren’t just my cousins; they’re my sisters in every sense of the word. They reach my side with arms outstretched, barking orders at their exasperated bodyguards to handle my luggage.
“Oh my God!” I laugh as they collide into me.
“You're really home,” Sofia says, pulling back to examine me like I’m a fragment of her imagination. “Your skin is so tan! And your hair—it's so much longer!”
“And you're wearing torn jeans,” Natalia adds with mock horror, plucking at my worn denim. “We need to get you back in the shops immediately. This hippie life is so over.”
I laugh at Natalia’s words. Of course she’d say that. “Sofia got to you, huh?” I wink.
“You know how she is.” Natalia shakes her head. “She forced me to spend more than an average New York rental on a dress recently.”
“Hey, it’s not like you had to pay for it.” Sofia rolls her eyes.
“Well, not all of us are blessed with husbands like yours,” I tell the women, linking my arms through theirs.
“We don’t need our husbands’ money.” Sofia flips her sleek, pin-straight blonde hair over her shoulder with a haughtiness that makes a few men turn in awe. “And neither do you.”
“I know, I know,” I murmur, thinking about my massive, untouched bank account. “God, I've missed you both so much,” I say, feeling it more deeply than I realized.
We reach the car, surrounded by a convoy of others, and pile right in. Some things never change. This part of my life—the one where we’re constantly watched—is not something I missed.
“I can't believe you're actually back,” Sofia says once we're moving, the city sliding past. “Two years of postcards were simply not enough.”
“I sent videos too,” I protest weakly.
“Thirty-second clips of you in front of some monument don't count as staying in touch,” Natalia chides me with a smile. “We've missed having another woman around who isn't married yet to remind us of what being single feels like.”
Sofia rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You've been married for just over a year, not four decades.”
“An amazing year,” Natalia corrects, her left hand fluttering up with a diamond that could probably fund another two years of travel.
“No one likes a show off,” I tease my cousin. “But I’m happy to bring some spark back into your lives. Now tell me, where are we going?” I ask as I look out of the window and notice we aren’t heading in the general direction of the penthouse my brothers and I share when in New York.
“We were thinking,” Sofia says, turning to me, “since your brothers are still out of the country on business—”
“All of them?” I interject, surprised. Ardalion has been trying to get in touch for a few days, but I always end up missing his calls because of the time difference.
“Lion and Benedikt are in Moscow, Sergey's in Dubai, and Samuil's in London.”
