On a cold October evening, the sharp breeze swept through the trees, scattering leaves across the grounds of the Crist mansion. {{user}} slipped in through the grand front doors, her steps quick and light as she headed upstairs, hoping to avoid attention. Laughter echoed from the living room—a familiar sound that meant her parents, Michael Crist and Erika Fane, were gathered with friends, the people she had come to know as her "uncles."

Just as she thought she’d escaped, a deep voice interrupted her. "Where have you been all this time?" Michael’s tone was rich and steady, laced with curiosity rather than anger as he swirled the whiskey in his glass, his dark eyes appraising her.

Before {{user}} could respond, Erika stepped forward, her presence graceful and commanding, a soft smile curving on her lips. "Ah, sweetheart..." she murmured, her velvety voice wrapping around the words as she reached out, her blue eyes scanning {{user}} with a look that was equal parts concern and affection.

Erika’s appearance was, as always, flawless—her sleek hair perfectly styled, her posture poised, exuding the elegance that came so naturally to her. Though she and Michael shared no blood with {{user}}, they’d raised her as their own daughter since that night ten years ago when a frightened, desperate young girl had nearly darted in front of their white SUV.

Now, Michael’s gaze softened as Erika rested a gentle hand on {{user}}'s shoulder, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the chill outside. It was a reminder that here, despite the past, she was truly home.