📎A/N. Hello and welcome to midweek. Before you start on this chapter, I suggest that you reread the last bit of the previous chapter. It turns out that my final version wasn't published correctly and some of you may have read the older version, which means some of this chapter will not make sense.

In addition, I may have been a little too subtle...  did any of you pick up why Sydney stopped things from going any further? If not re-read the last sentence of the previous chapter in combination with the name of the chapter ;)

Take care and don't forget to vote if you enjoy this chapter :)

❤ ℳ

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By the time Sydney returned to the house, the others had already taken their leave. The moment she walked through the doors that led from the patio, her cousin rushed from the kitchen, eyes wild and frantic.

"Where have you been?" Grace asked with concern as she hugged Sydney, "I was ready to call out the Coast Guard."

Sydney waved her concern off. "I'm fine."

Grace took a step back to take a better look at her. A frown replaced her short-lived relieved expression. "What happened?" she asked, "You look a mess. What happened out there?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Sydney mumbled, as she avoided eye contact.

Grace narrowed her eyes and gave Sydney a look that told her she would get it out of her sooner or later. "It doesn't have to do with Mac does it? He came back from the beach in a strange mood. What happened out there to set you both off?"

Sydney glanced around, the tables were cleared and nothing remained to indicate guests had been. For Grace to have cleaned up all trace was an indication of just how long she was away. "Grace, I really don't want to talk about it."

"He didn't do anything to hurt you did he?" Grace asked with an edge of panic.

"No, it wasn't like that. We had words - that's all." Sydney quickly broke in. "I'm just a little tired, that's all," she assured Grace. "After a good night's sleep I'll be fine."

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Sleep, however, eluded Sydney. The moment her head hit the pillow, she was wide awake. Much to her disgust, her mind appeared to be stuck on the events from the beach. Each scene recalled in vivid slow motion. She could still feel the heady rush of his lips on hers, as his hands played havoc with the rest of her body. Her body broke out in goose bumps at the memory of his touch.

Angry at her traitorous body's reaction, she rolled over and thumped her pillow hoping it would soften somewhat, so she could succumb to the bliss of sleep and stop this fixation she seemed to have.

This too proved to be less that fruitful when, a few moments later, her mind returned to the exact same scene. This time, it managed to move beyond their earth-shattering kiss to the disastrous aftermath.

I should have come clean and told him why I pulled back, she lamented.

His words echoed through her mind. At the time, she had heard the words but failed to listen to what he was saying.

He thought we had something

Her subconscious crossed her arms and tapped her foot, Yes, but it was against his better judgement.

He thinks I led him on, and what did he mean by he was over his head?

Sydney continued to toss and turn. When she did manage to doze, it was only for a short period. Each time she woke, her mind fixated. It was almost as if someone had pushed the repeat button and it was stuck, forever dwelling on the same scene that she would rather forget.

She was thankful when the first rays of dawn peeked through her bedroom window. Giving up any pretext of sleep, she threw back the covers and made her way to the kitchen. She would need caffeine if she were going to make it through the day. Stephen was due back and both her Aunt and Uncle were arriving.

Once the sweet aroma of the fresh coffee filled the house, and she was on her second cup, Sydney ventured out to her small porch. A choir of birds greeted her as she sat at the table with a huge sigh.

With more effort than was normally required, she opened up her iPad to check on her email, as well as catch up with any news that she may have missed overnight. As usual, there were an irritatingly large amount of junk mail. She began to cast the offending items to the Deleted Items bin and stopped short at an email that had arrived in her inbox at 3:45 am.

Her hand tremored slightly as it hovered over the email header. It was from Ethan McMasters.

Perhaps it's a coincidence? There are probably thousands of Ethan McMasters.

Yeah. Right, her subconscious threw back at her.

How did he get my email address?

Again, her inner voice piped in. That's your concern? Just open the bloody email!

Before she could change her mind, Sydney tapped on the email. She took a deep breath and dived in. With each word, each sentence she read, her chest tightened. Unable to tear her eyes from the screen she continued devouring the contents, her despair grew with each paragraph.

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From: Ethan McMasters

To: Sydney Regas

Subject: Private: Please Read

Before you discard this email, I would like to assure you that it will not contain any reference or repetition of either of our actions or sentiment from this evening. I can see now that my assumption that we could have a future was ill-founded, and your reactions clearly put me in my place.

This communication is not intended to bring you any further pain or provide an excuse for my actions or feelings on the matter. However, I must prevail on you to put aside your ill feelings towards me for a moment, as there is a matter that I can't sit idly by and not say something. I cannot allow you assume that you have cornered the market on pain.

You accused me of not knowing what it was like to live with the consequence of someone else's actions. With utmost respect to your own past, which I in no way reduce in magnitude, I would like to set the record straight. I fully understand this weight. I live with it every day of my life.

I can only refute your accusation by laying bare a still raw wound. The truth of which can be confirmed by more than one witness.

Until a number of years ago, I was fortunate to count among my closest friends, my older brother Walter. After the death of our parents, he did everything in his power to ensure we stayed together. It was Walter who made sure I kept my head on straight and it was Walter who pushed me to seek a scholarship to Oxford, and then made sure I had the funds to live, once I moved to the UK. Each step of the way throughout my life, my brother was there to encourage and guide me. To give me the wisdom of his mistakes and ambition to strive beyond what is thrown at us.

Everything I am today, I owe to my brother.

Not long after I returned home, Walter met and fell in love with a young socialite. They were wed within a month of meeting, and shortly after that, they were blessed with two wonderful children whom he doted on.

Unfortunately, things never turn out the way we expect it to. Dawn, their youngest had just turned five when Tracey, Walters wife, filed for divorce.

At the time, Walter was a Senior Director with a well-known Wall Street Investment Firm. His ability to fund both Tracy's extravagant lifestyle, as well as provide for the children, ensured that his ex-wife was seeking sole custody as well as a considerable portion of his wealth. This didn't concern Walter, his high priced lawyers ensured that while Tracey could get a sizeable chunk of money, there was no way she would get sole custody of Dawn and Quentin. His children were everything to him.

However, fate has a tendency to step in at the most inopportune moments.

One morning, the FBI raided the firm in which Walter worked. All employees were sent home. The management team, which Walter was part of, were handed subpoenas and indicted to appear before a grand jury.

Unknown to them at the time, their CEO David Hutton - your father, had siphoned over four billion dollars of investors' funds and conveniently left the country. I am assuming that, up until this moment, you were unaware of my brother's connection to your family.

Walter, as with the others, spent months clearing their names from your father's wrongdoing. By the time it was over, Walter had used up any available funds to pay for his legal defence. With the divorce case and the question of custody still over his head, he struggled to find work. Every door that had been opened prior to your father absconding off were now closed tight. Even with my good standing, I couldn't convince the board to hire him at the Treadsone Group.

My brother had lost everything the moment that money was taken. His livelihood, his children, and his future. Unfortunately, this story doesn't end there. At the time, the press was convinced your mother was in contact with her husband. Walter, in a last ditch effort to regain what had been lost, visited your mother, in an attempt to appear to her sense of justice and fair play. He was callously thrown out and told in no uncertain terms that he was to blame for the company's downfall and that David had been set up.

The last proper conversation I had with my brother was him phoning me just after his meeting with your mother, to tell me what had happened. He was, as you can imagine, distraught at the confrontation.

On his way back to the city, Walter's car was involved in an accident. I can only surmise that he was so distracted from the second blow to his life caused by a Hutton that he was not concentrating on the road. By the time the medics got to him, he was barely alive. They resuscitated him twice on the way to the ER, and he was in a coma for weeks after they managed to stabilise him. The doctors and specialists didn't hold out much hope of him coming out of it. Fortunately, they were wrong. Walter eventually did come out of the coma on his own.

Unfortunately, they were right about the rest of their predictions. The accident had resulted in two long lasting effects. His spine had been severed and he had lost oxygen to his brain for such a considerable amount of time that the resulting brain damage was severe.

Walter is now condemned to live out the rest of his life in a wheelchair. The brother I knew is gone. In his place, is a shadow of the one he once was, his mind is trapped and will never function beyond that of a young child.

Your accusation that I have no concept of knowing what it was like to live with consequence could not have been further from the truth. I live with this every day and it will continue to be a constant companion for many years and decades to come. You and I share the same source of the anguish and pain in which we shroud ourselves in - your parents.

You are probably wondering why I didn't tell you of this last night on the beach, but my emotions were such that I could not separate them enough to open myself up any further than I already had.

As for the truth of these events, there are others who have been aware of the events since that fateful night and the circumstances leading up to it. If you feel that you are unable to trust my word on the matter, you can consult Mason. He is fully aware of the situation and history with regards to my brother. His word, I assume, you trust.

Ethan McMasters

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Sydney needed to read the email three more times before the words finally sunk in. So many things suddenly fell into place, and she now understood his initial animosity towards her. Her heart went out to Walter. From what little had been written, he was a good man. One that didn't deserve what life had thrown at him. She had no doubt Ethan's story was true.

Sydney put a hand to her mouth in horror at the realisation that Walter's story was most probably one of many she was unaware of. How many others lives had been destroyed by her father? And as for her mother, how could she have turned away, and been so petty to someone whose life was hanging in the balance?

"How am I going to be able to face him?" she whispered.

A groan then overtook her as she remembered another pertinent piece of information she had been trying to ignore. Her mother was about to descend on them the day after the 4th of July celebrations.

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📎A/N. So what did you think of his email?? Looks like there might have been misunderstanding on both sides...

See you next Wednesday. Till then take care.

M.