The knock at the door startled me.
It was a Tuesday evening, and I had just sunk into my couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, scrolling through Netflix for something lighthearted to unwind after a long day. My body ached from hours of standing, handling patients, and dodging Captain the parrot's colorful vocabulary.
Grumbling, I peeled myself off the couch, my socked feet padding against the wooden floor as I made my way to the door. Probably a neighbor needing something, or maybe Julie dropping by unannounced like she sometimes did.
With a sigh, I pulled the door open, expecting the usual—a familiar face, a harmless interruption.
Instead, I was met with the kind of presence that didn't belong in my quiet world.
Three men stood on my doorstep, their polished shoes and tailored suits so sharply cut they seemed out of place against the worn wood of my porch. The porch light flickered slightly, casting a glow over their striking features—chiseled jawlines, eyes that held too much knowledge, an air of quiet authority that made my stomach tighten. Behind them, like shadows waiting for a command, stood nine more men, identical in their pristine suits and silent intensity.
The tallest of the three held an effortless sort of power, the kind that came with age and absolute control. His dark hair was threaded with silver, but rather than diminishing him, it added to his appeal—distinguished, refined, the kind of man who could command a room without uttering a single word. Even in the dim porch light, there was no mistaking the sharp lines of his features or the way his presence seemed to make the air heavier.
Beside him stood two younger men, mirroring his sharp edges and undeniable charisma. One had an easy confidence about him, his dark eyes laced with something unreadable—intense, knowing, a quiet storm beneath the surface. The other, slightly leaner but no less striking, held himself with precision, his expression guarded, watchful, like he had already calculated every possible outcome of this conversation.
The tall man stepped forward, offering a tentative smile.
"Mia, I'm Anderson Vance, your father. These are your brothers, Aaron and Alex."
My breath hitched. Vance? Brothers? My mind scrambled, trying to make sense of it. This had to be a mistake.
"I think you have the wrong person," I managed to say. "I'm an orphan. I don't have any family."
Anderson Vance's smile faltered. "Mia, we know it's been a long time. Twenty years, to be exact. But we've been looking for you. We are your family."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unbelievable. I stared at them, at their carefully constructed faces, the sheer impossibility of their claim washing over me.
"It's been twenty years," I finally said, my voice gaining strength. "Twenty years I've been on my own. I've built a life. I have my own peace. It's best if we act like we don't know each other. It's best for everyone."
Anderson's gaze didn't waver. If anything, there was something almost... patient about it, like he had expected my resistance.
"Mia," he said, his voice steady but laced with something firm, something immovable. "You don't understand. You are a Vance. That's not something you can walk away from."
I let out a short, humorless laugh. "I already did. For twenty years."
Aaron, the one standing slightly behind Anderson, crossed his arms. His gaze was razor-sharp, assessing, like he was calculating every possible outcome before making his next move. "We didn't have a choice," he said, his voice calm, almost too controlled.
I turned to him, meeting his cold, unreadable stare. "Neither did I."
Alex, the younger of the two, let out a short scoff, running a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair. Unlike Aaron, his expression wasn't blank—it was frustrated, on the verge of something reckless. "You're acting like we wanted this, Mia," he said, his voice rougher, more emotional than his brother's. "Like we wanted to be ripped away from you."
Alex's frustration deepened, but before he could say another word, I threw up my hands, my voice rising.
"Excuse me! I don't even know you people!" I gestured wildly between the three of them. "Do you expect me to just—what? Hear some dramatic family revelation and suddenly go, 'Oh my god, you're my long-lost family! Twenty years wasn't that long at all—let's go live happily ever after!'"
Aaron exhaled sharply through his nose, while Alex muttered something under his breath, probably cursing my sarcasm.
I folded my arms, staring at Anderson. "How do I even know you're telling the truth? You show up here in fancy suits, throwing around my name like it means something, but for all I know, this could be some elaborate scam." I took a step back, my heart hammering. "So forgive me if I don't exactly roll out the welcome mat."
Anderson's jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, he reached into his jacket. Instinctively, I tensed, my curiosity piqued. He pulled out a small, worn photo.
He held it out to me. "This is you," he said simply.
I hesitated before taking it. My breath caught the second I saw it.
A baby, no older than a year, wrapped in a soft blue blanket. Chubby cheeks, dark curls, bright eyes. Being held by a woman who looked exactly like me. She looked young, her features full of warmth, but the exhaustion in her gaze was unmistakable. And beside her, a man—Anderson.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
The edges of the photo were worn, as if it had been held too many times, carried for too long.
My grip tightened. "This... this doesn't mean anything." My voice shook slightly, betraying me. "Photos can be faked."
"We did a DNA test before we even approached you," Aaron said coolly. "There's no doubt. You're our blood."
I swallowed hard, my world tilting dangerously. My entire life, I had been alone. No family, no past—just me. And now, these men, these strangers, were trying to rewrite everything I knew about myself.
But I wasn't about to just accept it.
I forced myself to meet Anderson's eyes, my own blazing. "Even if that's true... I don't owe you anything."
Anderson exhaled, his expression unreadable. "You're right, Mia."
For a second, I almost believed he was letting me go.
Then, his voice hardened.
"But that doesn't change the fact that you belong with us."
And in that moment, I knew—this wasn't a request. It was a command.