Begging Me Back Is Useless Now

For seven years after the Montgomery family finally found me, I was never allowed to step foot inside their home.

And for seven years, the fake heiress never moved out.

It was an archaic, eccentric tradition of the old-money Montgomerys: whenever a family member returned from a long journeyor a long absencethe head of the estate had to cast the antique silver dollars. Only if the silver eagles landed face-up, signaling a blessing, could the wanderer cross the threshold.

My biological brother, Alistair, cast the coins for me ninety-nine times. Not once did they land on a blessing.

On the hundredth time, peering through a crack in the heavy oak doors of his study, I saw it. Two silver eagles, gleaming under the lamplight. A perfect, joyous omen.

Yet Alistair stared at the coins, a heavy silence stretching across the room, before he finally murmured, "It has to be a bad omen."

"Evie was raised in this house. Shes fragile. Shes never known hardship," he whispered to the empty room. "If Josie comes home, and Evie has to move out... she wont survive it."

In that crushing, quiet moment, the truth finally crystallized. It wasn't the coins keeping me out. It was him. He just didn't want me to come home.

And you know what? That was fine. Because suddenly, I didn't want to come home either.

I packed my bags and bought a train ticket heading down South, back to the military base in Georgia.

Down there was the man who had raised me, my adoptive brother. Id heard he was sick. I just wanted to go see him.

The air in the study was thick with the scent of burning cedar, casting a dim, solemn haze over the room.

I stood soundlessly outside the door, my eyes fixed on the two silver coins resting on the mahogany desk.

Two heads. A blessing.

Alistair Montgomery had tossed them five times. Five times, the result was exactly the same.

But the cold detachment in his voice had already rewritten the fate the coins had decreed.

A sudden draft swept through the grand hallway, stinging my eyes, making them ache with a sudden, sharp wetness.

For a long, agonizing minute, Alistairs face was a portrait of rigid hesitation. But ultimately, he reached out. His fingers hovered over one of the silver eagles before gently, deliberately, flipping it over.

The blessing became a curse. The door remained shut.

As he straightened up, he muttered under his breath, "Shell never know. Its been seven years... no one has ever noticed."

So this was it. The hundredth casting I had waited for with bated breath, my heart full of foolish, desperate hope. It was nothing but the hundredth lie designed to lock me out of the Montgomery estate.

My mind was a chaotic, static hum.

Until, from the courtyard behind me, Evangelines sickly-sweet voice pierced the air.

"Josie! What are you doing in the hallway?" she gasped, her tone fluttering like a startled bird. "Alistair is casting the coins. You know you aren't supposed to be here!"

Her voice was pitched high, engineered to carry. Instantly, the heavy oak doors swung open.

Alistair stood there. A deep frown marred his handsome features, and for a fleeting second, raw panic flickered in his dark eyes.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked.

I slipped my trembling hands into the pockets of my wool coat, letting my fingernails dig soundlessly into my palms until the pain grounded me.

I met his gaze with a deadened calm.

"Just got here," I lied smoothly. "Dinner's almost ready. I came to get you."

It was New Year's Eve. The one day of the year the Montgomery family deigned to leave their grand estate and come to the modest apartment they rented for me, playing the part of a united family.

For the past seven years, Alistair had fed me the same lines. He told me that even if the coins wouldn't let me cross the threshold of the main house, I was still a Montgomery. I was still his only biological sister. And on New Year's Eve, a family belongs together.

Once upon a time, those words had moved me to tears.

Hearing my answer, Alistair exhaled, the tension bleeding from his shoulders, though a trace of guilt lingered in his eyes. He reached out with the same hand that had just falsified my future, his broad palm stiffly wrapping around my wrist.

His voice returned to its usual, manufactured warmth. "Let's go, then. Let's have dinner."

The words barely left his mouth before Evangeline burst into the hallway, her eyes already swimming with tears. She looked at Alistair, a picture of tragic, breathless terror.

"Did you finish the reading, Alistair?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Is Josie... is she finally moving into the house?"

Alistair met her pleading gaze. For a long moment, the air in the hallway felt suffocatingly heavy.

Evie's lower lip quivered. A single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek. "I... I understand. Congratulations, Josie. You finally get to go home. I'll... I'll go pack my things right now."

She spun around, sprinting toward the door with a theatrical sob. Her foot caught the edge of an expensive ceramic planter, and she went crashing to the floor.

Alistair's grip on my wrist instantly loosened. His body jerked forward, a visceral, instinctive urge to rush to her side.

But he forced himself to stay planted, watching as the housekeeper scrambled to help Evie up. It took him a long time to speak, his voice dropping into a stern, heavy register.

"The result is the same as always."

He paused, letting the words sink in. "But Evie, you need to remember: Josie is the true daughter of this family. When the day comes that the coins show a blessing, you will have to leave. And there will be no tantrums. The Montgomerys owe you nothing."

Evie bit her lip, looking utterly devastated, before sobbing into her hands and running out of the room.

Alistair stood frozen, his face a mask of cold authority. He didn't chase after her.

But the fingers still loosely circling my wrist? They were trembling.

You can never truly hide who you care about.

Years ago, down in Georgia, I had broken a rule on the base. My adoptive brother, Bennett, made me stand at attention in the sweltering Southern heat as punishment. But terrified that the sun would be too harsh on me, he had walked over and stood directly in front of me, using his own broad shoulders to cast a shadow over my face.

He had looked just like thissilent, stern, and unyielding. But with my head bowed, I had seen his fingertips twitching at his sides, aching to reach out and pull me inside.

The dining table was crowded with Montgomery aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Someone sighed heavily into their wine glass. "Evie is still out on the porch crying. She hasn't eaten a bite. The poor girl is going to starve."

Alistair ignored them, methodically placing a portion of roasted vegetables onto my plate and ladling soup into my bowl. He didn't even look up as he spoke. "Leave her. If she doesn't want to eat, she can go hungry."

A hushed, uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

The holiday dinner dragged on, cold and awkward. Honestly, it didn't feel much different from the nights I ate alone in this apartment.

Evangeline and I were the exact same age. She had been brought into the Montgomery family when she was four. Even if the family refused to say it out loud, the truth was obvious: twenty years of shared history had forged a bond far thicker than the blood I shared with them.

As the dinner wound down, I reached for my favorite dishthe glazed duck confit. There were only three pieces left.

An older aunt cleared her throat. "Leave some of the duck for Evie, please. It's her favorite, too. Besides, Josie... you've already had quite enough."

Alistairs head snapped up, his eyes flashing with a sudden, glacial warning.

Without a word, he reached across the table, picked up the platter, and scraped the remaining duck directly onto my plate.

"We are not catering to her tantrums," he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.

It was a fierce defense. But the moment he set his fork down, his mind was clearly a million miles away.

When the housekeeper tied up the trash bags from the kitchen, preparing to take them out into the freezing night, Alistair suddenly stood up.

"I'll take it," he murmured.

The housekeeper blinked in surprise but handed over the bags.

Once Alistair was gone, the tension in the room evaporated. The Montgomerys broke into small clusters, laughing and chatting effortlessly among themselves.

To them, I was a stranger wearing their last name. I had absolutely nothing to say to any of them. Feeling suffocated, I stood up and slipped out the back door for some air.

I wandered aimlessly until I approached the rear courtyard. Through the biting chill, I heard Evie's muffled, pathetic sobbing, intertwined with Alistair's low, soothing voice.

I stopped at the top of the stone steps. The first snow of the season had begun to fall over Boston.

Alistair and Evie were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on a wrought-iron bench. Between them was a takeout container of glazed duck.

He raised a hand, his palm gently, adoringly brushing a few stray snowflakes from her hair.

Evies eyes were red-rimmed. She pushed lightly at his chest, looking up at him with immense grievance. "You're about to throw me out on the street. Why do you even care if I eat?"

Alistair was caught off guard by the push, swaying slightly, but there was no anger in his face. Only a bottomless, indulgent warmth.

It was a look he had never given me. The smiles he offered me were always meticulously constructed, stiff with obligation. This? This was real.

He sighed, a fond, helpless sound. "Don't be ridiculous. You've been a part of this family for nearly twenty years. Do you honestly think Id ever let you be thrown out?"

Evie let out a wet sob and buried her face into the crook of his shoulder.

Alistair picked up a piece of duck with his fork and brought it to her lips. "I had the head chef at the country club make this specifically for you. Its vastly better than what the housekeeper threw together."

The taste of the housekeeper's duck was still lingering on my tongue.

Evie took a bite, her sobs slowly quieting down.

Alistairs voice dropped lower, reasoning with her in the dark. "Josie is different from you, Evie. She grew up wandering on the outside. Shes never known what it means to be truly loved or spoiled."

He paused, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Giving her a few pieces of meat... it makes her happy. It keeps her pacified. And as long as shes grateful for these little crumbs, it ensures you can stay safely in the Montgomery house."

So that was it.

Over the last seven years, whenever he had taken my side in some trivial, meaningless argument, it hadn't been out of love. It was a calculated strategy. He genuinely believed I was so starved for affection, so desperate for scraps, that a few kind words would keep me weeping with gratitude while they locked me out in the cold.

But he was wrong.

Before the Montgomerys dragged me back to Boston, I was loved. Fiercely.

Down in the humid, sprawling military base in Georgia, I had been cherished. The base commanders wives treated me like their own. And my adoptive brother, Bennett? He had been my father, my protector, my entire world. He never let a single ounce of suffering touch me.

If there was a prime cut of meat on the table, it was always pushed onto my plate. I never lacked for toys, clothes, or joy. Bennett lived a rugged, unforgiving life as a soldier, yet he always remembered to bring home pink ribbons and strawberry shortcake for me.

If it hadn't been for the illness that suddenly ravaged his body, he never would have let the Montgomerys take me.

I remember the day I left. He had looked at me, his stoic face pale, and said, "Josie, he is your blood. Your parents are gone. If you don't go back, Alistair will be entirely alone in this world."

He had forced a smile. "Besides, Im sick now, kid. Knowing you have a massive, wealthy family up North to look after you... it gives me peace."

And so, I followed Alistair to Boston.

Then came the family rule. The coin toss.

The very first time Alistair prepared to cast the coins, Evie had stormed into the foyer, a weeping, hyperventilating mess, screaming, "If it's a blessing, Ill pack my bags and disappear forever!"

I still remember the way Alistairs body violently seized up at her words.

He went into the study. He came out and said it was a curse. He did it ten times. A hundred times. It was always a curse.

Honestly? I didn't feel much back then. Not anger, not devastation. I had been lost when I was three years old. I had zero memories of the Montgomerys and even less emotional attachment to them.

Back then, I had just looked up at Alistair and asked quietly, "Then... can you just buy me a ticket back to Georgia?"

Just a month before they found me, Aunt Martha down on the base had promised me that as soon as the school term ended, she was going to make her famous Southern braised short ribs. She told me to run straight to the barracks, grab Bennett, and come over for dinner.

I had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Instead, I was abruptly uprooted by strangers claiming to be my blood and dragged thousands of miles away to the freezing, manicured streets of Boston.

When Alistair told me the coins had forbidden my entry, I was secretly desperate for him to say yes, to send me back.

But Alistair had just walked over, his eyes overflowing with this gentle, tragic pity. He wrapped his hand around my wrist and murmured, "Don't cry, Josie. I can toss the coins every month. A blessing will come eventually. In the meantime, Ive set up a gorgeous apartment for you. I'll be there constantly."

I tried to tell him I wasn't crying. I didn't want an apartment. I wanted to go home to the base where the cicadas hummed and the air smelled like pine.

But then Alistair said, "Ill stay with you tonight. Mom and Dad are gone. Just... keep your big brother company, okay?"

He looked so gutted. So incredibly lonely. Exactly like Bennett had warned me.

And Bennett had made it clear: legally, I was a Montgomery now. Under the law, Bennett had no right to keep me in military housing. I didn't have a choice. So, I nodded.

I enrolled in a prep school in Boston. The coursework was suffocating.

To his credit, Alistair was meticulous in his care for me. No matter how demanding his schedule running the family empire was, he always made time to personally accompany me on the grueling, multi-day train rides down South to visit Bennett a few times a year.

Aside from the fact that he could never seem to cast a blessing, never bring me into the estate, and never ask Evie to leave, I couldn't point to a single flaw in his performance as an older brother.

But I wasn't stupid. And I wasn't numb.

Seven years is a long time. It was impossible not to notice the cracks in the facade. It was impossible not to finally peek through the crack in that oak door and see the truth for myself.

Honestly, finding out wasn't even a shock.

Once you poke a hole in paper, you can see the entire rotting room behind it.

I pulled myself back to the present, my eyes fixed on the two figures huddled together in the snow-dusted courtyard.

Alistair had a terrible stomach. He rarely ate large portions. He had already had dinner, yet half of Evies takeout box ended up in his mouth.

People always say food tastes better when you eat it with someone you love.

I turned around and walked silently back inside.

The Montgomery relatives were still drinking and laughing. Not a single person noticed I had returned, just as no one had noticed Id left.

I bypassed the living room and climbed the stairs to my solitary bedroom, sitting down by the frosted window. The snow was falling heavier now, the Boston skyline turning into a gray blur.

It was funny. The apartment was packed with people today, yet I felt colder and more isolated than ever.

In the reflection of the windowpane, my mind conjured Bennett.

I remembered New Year's Eve back in Georgia. He had poured himself a glass of cheap bourbon and handed me a glass of Coca-Cola. Through the steam of the chili pot bubbling on the stove, he tapped his glass against mine.

"Happy New Year, Josie. Stay safe. Stay mine."

The men in his platoon always said Captain Bennett was made of ice and iron. He had this permanent, terrifying scowl that made the fresh recruits physically shake.

But to me? He was just warm.

He only ever called me Josie. Sometimes it was a low, indulgent rumble. Other times, it was laced with exasperation. But it was always, always mine.

I picked up an empty water glass from my nightstand and tapped it against the glass, right where his reflection hovered.

"Happy New Year, Bennett," I whispered.

My fingers touched the cold pane. The illusion shattered.

I missed him. An ache so deep it hollowed out my chest. I realized it rarely snowed in Georgia; he had probably never seen a real blizzard.

I pulled out a sheet of stationery and started writing a letter. I didn't even know what to say. If I said I was doing great, it would feel like ash in my mouthI was a terrible liar. If I said I was miserable, it would only break his heart.

After staring at the blank page for twenty minutes, I wrote three lines:

Bennett, its snowing in Boston. It's beautiful. If I roll a snowball and bring it down South, do you think it would survive the trip so I could show you?

I folded the letter, shoved it into an envelope, threw on my coat, and walked down the street to drop it into the blue mailbox.

By the time I returned, the sky had gone pitch black. The living room was still roaring with conversation.

Alistair and Evie were standing by the bay window. He was murmuring something that had her bent double with laughter.

Exhausted by the charade, I headed for the stairs.

But then I saw what was in Evies hands.

It was small. Familiar.

Panic spiked in my chest. I whipped my head toward the bookshelf on the landing. The glass display dome was empty.

She was holding my wooden figurine.

Years ago, a local woodcarver had visited the base. Bennett had spent weeks, his massive, calloused hands fumbling with tiny whittling knives, just to carve a miniature wooden doll that looked like me.

I had kept it under a tinted glass dome for seven years, terrified that sunlight or dust would ruin it.

Now, the glass dome was tossed carelessly onto a side table.

My heart seized. I lunged forward, taking the stairs two at a time.

As I got closer, I heard Evie giggling. "God, its so ugly. It doesn't look anything like you, Josie."

Alistair smiled affectionately, shaking his head. "Alright, put it back before she"

Before he could finish, a raw, primal scream tore from my throat. "Give it back!"

Evie gasped, whirling around to face me, her eyes wide with manufactured, innocent shock.

I lunged to rip it from her hands.

But before my fingers could even graze it, she acted as if I had violently startled her. Her fingers simply opened.

The wooden doll hit the hardwood floor. A loud crack echoed through the room as one of its carved arms snapped clean off.

It felt like a bomb went off inside my skull.

My vision went entirely red. Shaking with pure, unfiltered rage, I raised my hand and swung at Evies face.

But Alistair didn't pretend to be the impartial brother this time. His reflexes were razor-sharp. He stepped in, violently shoving Evie behind his back.

Under my bloodshot glare, a flicker of genuine guilt and panic crossed his face. "J-Josie, it was an accident. Her hand slipped. I'll buy you a"

Accident? I wasn't blind.

I stared at him, my voice a ragged, breathless hiss. "Get out of my way."

The raucous laughter in the living room died instantly. A suffocating silence swallowed the apartment.

The Montgomery aunts and uncles swarmed the stairs, their voices a cacophony of useless platitudes.

"Josie, calm down! Youre hysterical."

"Its New Year's Eve, for heaven's sake. Evie obviously didn't mean to do it. Don't ruin the holiday."

Every single one of them was stepping in to protect her. They were an impenetrable wall of armor for Evangeline.

I didn't care. I threw myself forward, clawing wildly, trying to drag Evie out from behind Alistairs back.

Alistair caught my wrists, holding me back. The aunts grabbed my shoulders, pulling and tugging at my clothes, their voices blurring into a chaotic buzz.

A high-pitched ringing erupted in my ears. I couldn't hear them anymore.

SomeoneI didn't know whoyanked my arm too hard, or maybe shoved me. I ripped myself free from their grip, lost my balance, and stumbled backward.

My head slammed hard against the edge of the stair railing. White hot pain flared behind my eyes, and my vision swam.

Evie pressed herself against the wall and started to wail.

Alistairs face drained of color. He dropped to his knees beside me, his hands hovering over my shoulders, his voice shaking. "Josie... let me see. Where did you hit your head? Let me look."

I stared up at his face. This incredibly handsome, wealthy man. This face practically radiating hypocritical, suffocating concern.

It was the exact same face he had worn seven years ago when he arrived in Georgia to claim me.

I had been so perfectly fine before he came. I hadn't needed him to rescue me. I hadn't needed to be this completely, utterly alone. I had people who loved me. People who cared if I lived or died.

In that moment, seven years of silent humiliation, of swallowing my pride, of waiting by cracked doors for silver coins to fall... it all violently boiled over.

Acid rose in my throat. As he leaned in to touch me, I swung my arm with everything I had left.

SMACK.

The slap echoed like a gunshot.

Alistair froze, still crouched over me, his hand suspended in mid-air. The red imprint of my hand bloomed across his pale cheek.

My chest heaved, tears of absolute fury spilling down my face as I screamed at him.

"Why did you take me?!"

"If you never wanted me in your house, why did you drag me away from mine?!"

Pure terror flashed through Alistairs eyes. "Did you... did you..."

For a split second, he knew I had seen through the lie.

But before he could speak, the Montgomery elders rushed to his defense.

"Josie, how dare you!" an uncle barked. "The coins have dictated against it! Do you think Alistair enjoys this? Do you think he's lying to you? To lie about the family casting is a sin against the ancestors! Hed be cursed!"

A hysterical, broken laugh clawed its way out of my throat.

Cursed?

If lying about the coins brought a curse, Alistair should have been struck by lightning a hundred times over.

He hadn't needed to do this. He could have just left me in Georgia. He could have just pretended he never found me. But no, he needed the grand performance. He needed to use the "omens" as a shield to prove to Evie just how much she meant to himthat he loved her so much, hed leave his own flesh and blood rotting on the doorstep for seven years.

I hadn't even been allowed into the estate to see our parents' graves.

Alistair finally snapped out of his shock. Perhaps deciding I was just lashing out in grief, he looked down at me, his eyes swimming in a pathetic, desperate swirl of guilt.

"I'll... I'll get a blessing for you, Josie. Very soon. I promise."

I looked dead into his eyes.

A small, genuine smile touched my lips. "Who the hell cares?"

Utter shock washed over Alistairs face.

To him, his promise was an act of divine mercy. Granting me the right to enter the Montgomery estate should have had me weeping with joy at his feet.

I slowly pushed myself up and knelt on the hardwood floor. With trembling fingers, I picked up the splintered pieces of my wooden doll. It was probably ruined forever, but I was going to take it with me anyway.

The Montgomery relatives were still hovering, their voices tight with barely concealed disgust at my behavior.

I tuned them out completely.

But Evie just couldn't help herself. She had to play the martyr one last time.

Assuming the danger had passed, she took a hesitant step forward, tears tracking perfectly down her cheeks. "Im so sorry, Josie. Here, let me help you put it back together."

She leaned down and reached out, her manicured fingers brushing against a piece of the broken wood.

I shot up to my feet, snatched the wood from her hand, and slapped her.

Hard.

Evie threw her body into a violently exaggerated spin. As she stumbled backward, her hip clipped the hallway console table, knocking over a ceramic mug. It shattered against the floor.

Evie collapsed into the shards, letting out a blood-curdling shriek as a tiny sliver of ceramic grazed her forehead.

Chaos erupted. The Montgomerys shrieked, scrambling over each other to lift her off the floor, to check her pulse, to dab at her skin.

A sharp voice cut through the noise, aimed directly at me. "Josie! Are you out of your mind?!"

Alistair stared at the single drop of blood trickling down Evies forehead. His face went dead, his eyes hardening into flint.

For the first time in seven years, he dropped the act.

"I told you I would get you your blessing," he snarled at me, his voice dripping with venom. "You didn't need to take your jealousy out on Evie."

The moment I laid a hand on his precious Evangeline, the facade of the loving, torn brother completely shattered.

Evie slumped against the wall, clutching her head and whimpering that she felt dizzy.

Alistair didn't spare me another glance. He scooped Evie up into his arms, bursting through the front door into the freezing night.

Despite the fact that her 'injury' required a band-aid at best.

It was exactly like he had said. She was a delicate flower raised in a greenhouse. I was a weed.

One by one, the relatives grabbed their coats and hurried out the door after them. Within sixty seconds, the crowded, suffocating apartment was entirely, perfectly empty.

I stood alone in the deafening silence. Surprisingly, my heart rate began to slow. A profound, chilling calm washed over me.

It was just like I had thought seven years ago. I never truly loved the Montgomerys. I didn't care about Alistair.

Maybe his fake warmth had tricked me into believing in the fantasy of a biological family for a little while. Maybe I had genuinely wanted to belong. But now? The fantasy was dead.

At least now I was free to walk away.

I was twenty-four years old. I had graduated from medical school and was completing my residency at a local hospital. There was no law on earth that could force me to stay tethered to Alistair Montgomery.

I thought about the letter I had just dropped in the mailbox.

I should just bring the snow to him.

I couldn't wait another second. First thing tomorrow morning, the moment the Amtrak station opened, I was buying a ticket back to Georgia.

A violent, desperate homesickness crashed into me. I wanted my real home. I wanted to see Bennett. I wanted Aunt Marthas braised short ribs. She promised them to me seven years ago, and I never got to eat them.

Bennett always told me a soldier never breaks a promise. Aunt Martha was a military wife; she wouldn't break hers either.

I carefully placed the broken pieces of my wooden doll into my coat pocket.

My eyes burned with unshed tears. For seven years, this expensive apartment in Boston was just a waiting room. It had never been home.

I walked into my bedroom, grabbed a duffel bag, and started packing.