It's been a month since Jacob had expressed his feelings to Rosetta who Rosetta sat at the kitchen table, flipping through her well-worn notebook. With thoughts of Jacob deeply engraved in her heart.
The sound of her grandfather humming softly by the stove was a comfort, as was the smell of eggs frying in the pan. She glanced at her phone, hoping for a reply to the message she had sent to Jacob. Who promised to pick her up for shopping, her birthday was just days away.
The screen lit up with a notification.
Rosetta's brow furrowed as she picked it up. "Account credited?" she murmured, tapping to open the message. It wasn't yet time for her monthly payment from the Hotel and who would credit her account? Or was it Jacob trying to surprise her he doesn't have her account number?
Her eyes widened as she read the numbers. Account credited: $50,000,000.00.
Her breath hitched. She blinked rapidly, rereading the message. Surely, this had to be a mistake.
"Grandpa," she called out, her voice shaky Rosetta had never seen or received such money in her entire life.
Thomas turned, holding a spatula in his hand, concern on his face, when he saw his granddaughter shaking. "What is it?"
She swallowed hard, holding the phone up for him to see. "I—I just got a credit alert. Fifty million dollars. Grandpa, Fifty million!"
Thomas squinted at the screen, his jaw tightening as he read the message. "Fifty million?" He pulled out his glasses and put them on as if seeing the numbers more clearly might make sense of them.
"This… can't be right. Are you sure it's not one of those scams?"
Rosetta shook her head, clutching the phone like it might vanish. "It came from my bank. Look! It's real."
Thomas dropped the spatula into the pot, wiping his hands on his apron. "Have you spoken to anyone? Did someone tell you they'd send money?"
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I don't know anyone who could—"
Her phone buzzed again, the ringtone breaking the tense silence. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.
Thomas gestured toward it. "Answer it, Rosie."
She hesitated but swiped to accept the call. "Hello?"
"Good afternoon, Miss Rosetta," a polite voice said. "This is Mr. Daniel, personal assistant to Mr. Raymond Grant."
Rosetta froze. "Who?"
"Mr. Grant asked me to confirm that the funds have been successfully credited to your account," Daniel explained. His voice was calm and formal, but it did little to settle her rising panic.
"I… I don't understand," Rosetta stammered. "Why would this… Mr. Grant send me money?"
"Mr. Grant will explain everything himself," Daniel replied smoothly. "You and Mr. Thomas George are invited to the Grant Estate this Saturday. A car will be sent to pick you up."
Rosetta's grip on the phone tightened. "Wait, what? I don't even know why he sent me this! Why would he..."
"All will be clarified at the estate," Daniel interrupted politely. "Please inform Mr. George. We'll be expecting you both."
Before she could say another word, the line went dead.
Rosetta stared at her phone, her mind spinning.
"Rosie?" Thomas's voice brought her back to the present. "Who was that?"
"Someone called Daniel," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He said he's Mr. Grant's assistant.
Grandpa, I don't even know who this man is, I only met him once and he asked me about you and some information about my late parents. I told him all I knew and gave him your number but after that, we never came in contact again.
Did he call you? I forgot to ask if he called you but now he sent me Fifty million dollars, and he wants us to meet him this Saturday."
Thomas stiffened, his face darkening. He pulled out his old, worn phone and began scrolling through the contacts.
"What are you doing Grandpa?" Rosetta asked.
"Making a call," Thomas replied curtly.
'' A call to who? You, have his number, Grandpa? Does that mean he called you, why didn't you tell me, is there something you are not telling me?
Thomas glanced at Rosetta without saying a word, then ended the call still not willing to say anything to Rosetta, who stared at him blankly.
Later that evening, Thomas sat in his usual spot in the living room, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. Rosetta hovered nearby, her arms crossed and her anxiety palpable.
The line clicked, and a deep, familiar voice came through. "Thomas," Grant said evenly. "It's been a while."
"It has," Thomas replied, his voice steady but sharp. "I'm calling because of Rosetta. She just received a ridiculous amount of money, Fifty million dollars, and apparently, I guess it's from you."
"Yes," Grant said simply. "That was from me."
Thomas's grip on the phone tightened. "Why, Grant? Why send her that kind of money without giving her a reason? She's confused, and so am I. Is this your way of introduction? "
Grant's voice softened slightly. "It's my way of giving her a little introduction to the Grant Family, of what she's been owed all her life. But I'll explain everything when we meet this weekend. I assume you received the invitation?"
Thomas's jaw clenched. "We did. But Grant, do you think dropping a bombshell on her is the best way? You'd better think twice. She's been through enough already in my opinion."
"This isn't about causing pain," Grant said, his tone firm. "It's about the truth and welcoming her home. Do you have a better way of me doing it? Grant asked. Rosetta deserves to know who she is, and you know I am right."
Thomas exhaled deeply, his free hand rubbing his temple. "Fine. We'll come. But you'd better be prepared for what this will do to her."
At the Grant Estate, the black car glided up the winding driveway, passing perfectly manicured lawns and towering fountains as it approached the grand mansion. Rosetta stared out the window, her nerves tightening with each second.
"This is insane Grandpa! This place is Awesome, so beautiful" She gasped in surprise at the grandeur of the mansion.
Thomas glanced at her, his face a mask of calm, though his hands were clasped tightly in his lap. He knew he would need to do a lot of explanations when Rosetta finally knew the truth about her Identity "Just keep your head up, Rosie."
The butler met them at the grand doors, ushering them into a lavish sitting room where Tracy was already seated, her legs crossed and her arms folded.
"What is she doing here?" Tracy sneered as soon as she saw Rosetta.
"Tracy," Grant's commanding voice echoed as he entered the room. "Behave yourself."
Tracy stood abruptly, her eyes narrowing. "Dad, what is going on? Why is this trash picker or double-duty girl doing here?"
Grant was surprised at the name Tracy called Rosetta, but he controlled himself and gestured for everyone to sit, his face grave.
"Thank you all for coming. What I'm about to say will be difficult for all of us, but it's the truth, and it needs to be said."
Rosetta and Tracy exchanged uneasy glances. Both wondered what this was all about. Although Tracy felt maybe her Dad was just about to make sure she and Rosetta settled their differences.
Thomas on the other hand sat back, his arms crossed as he watched Grant closely with concern.
"What truth?" Tracy demanded, her voice sharp. She planned to make sure she and Rosetta never be on good terms because he felt Rosetta was too close to the man she loved. Jacob
Grant took a deep breath and blurted out without holding back, in a very firm but commanding tone. "Rosetta is my biological daughter."
The room fell silent.
Tracy's face went pale before flushing with anger. "What? Dad, what did you say? How can a trash picker be my sister!" She roared at her Dad, glaring at him
Rosetta's breath caught in her throat. "I… I don't understand," she whispered, shaking her head. There must be a mistake somewhere sir, I am not your daughter'' She turned to face Thomas'' Grandpa, say something, please. Her eyes welled up with tears.
Grant's voice softened as he continued, staring at Rosetta admiringly.
"There was indeed a mistake at the hospital Rosetta. A heavy mix-up that cost all of us so much. Grant turned facing Tracy. Tracy, you and Rosetta were switched at birth."
Tracy shot to her feet, her voice trembling with rage.
"This is insane! You're telling me she's not only your daughter? But also I am an exchange, a switch. And I'm just… what? A mistake?" Tears streamed down Tracy's face mixed with anger.
"Tracy, sit down," Grant said firmly but with love. '' Allow me to finish. I did a thorough investigation and I can explain all this to you, it doesn't change anything at all. You are still my daughter ''
"No!" Tracy shouted, her eyes blazing. "I'm your only daughter! Not her! And it stays that way"
Rosetta's hands trembled in her lap as she looked at Thomas. "Grandpa, is this true? Please say something, are you aware of this? Are my parents not dead ?"
Thomas reached over, placing a steady hand on hers. "It's true, Rosie. But no matter what happens, you'll always be my granddaughter."
Tears welled in Rosetta's eyes as she looked back at Grant. "Why now? Why tell me this now?" All my life I've only known my Mum and Dad, why the sudden change?
"Because you deserve to know," Grant said softly. "You've been kept from the life you were meant to have, and I'm here to make it right."
Grant turned and faced Tracy, ''Tracy be patient with me let me explain everything to you''
Grant took his time and told them all he knew, how through Tracy's illness it was discovered she wasn't their biological daughter through blood donations, the search for Rosetta, and the death of Evelyn during the quest to find Rosetta and how he met with Rosetta at the hotel the day Tracy and she had a little misunderstanding. It turns out that Grandpa Thomas was Tracy's biological Grandpa.
'' So you knew she was your missing golden daughter, was that why you invited her to your penthouse Dad? I asked you several times but you never said a word to me''
Tracy glared at Rosetta, pointing at her '' And you, that's why you've been throwing your weight around me feeling you're equal to me? Promoted from a trash picker to a billionaire heiress?
Rosetta was speechless, she was equally unaware of her true identity but Tracy was not one to hear her out.
Tracy was filled with rage and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her,
'' Tracy, Tracy, Grant called out to Tracy but she left but not without saying some hurtful words
'' You and your daughter can have a great reunion but she will never be my sister and will always be a trash picker to me and let that old man stick to his trash picker of a granddaughter. I am not his granddaughter.
Rosetta couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of a storm she wasn't prepared to face, as she stared at Grant, then at Thomas, she needed answers.
The bar reeked of alcohol, sweat, and desperation, an oddly fitting place for Tracy's mood. She marched to the counter, her heels clicking against the sticky floor, her head buzzing with Grant's words echoing in her mind.
"You were switched at birth. Rosetta is my biological daughter."
She slammed her clutch onto the counter, her breath uneven. "Whiskey please and make it neat."
The bartender, barely glancing up, poured her a glass.
Tracy grabbed it and downed the harsh liquid in one gulp, the burn doing little to quench the fire raging inside her. She shoved the glass forward. "Another pour please."
The bartender hesitated. "Rough night?"
"You have no idea," she muttered.
After the divorce from Rosetta, Dango had spent most nights moving from one bar to another. Living a very reckless life, even Victoria couldn't keep a leash on him. This was another of those nights in another bar.
By the time Dango slouched onto the stool beside her, Tracy was three glasses in.
"Well, if it isn't the ice queen," he drawled, swirling his drink. His tie was askew, and his shirt was rumpled, the picture of a man who had given up caring. Dango knew Tracy as the daughter of Grant the billionaire. He was a contractor to one of Grant's companies.
Tracy shot him a sideways glare. "Dango."
"You look worse than I feel," he said, smirking.
"Go away," she muttered, throwing back another shot.
"Touchy," he said, leaning closer. "So, what's got you in a twist? Daddy cut your allowance?"
Her hand slammed onto the counter. "Don't. Start."
Dango chuckled, unfazed. "Come on, Tracy. You don't come to a dump like this if everything's peachy. Spill."
She turned to him, her eyes glassy but burning with anger. "Fine. Do you want to know? My father just told me I'm not his daughter. Turns out I was some hospital mistake. That a trash picker named Rosetta, who works in the hotel, is his real daughter."
Dango blinked, then let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's rough."
Tracy laughed bitterly. "Rough? My whole life is a lie, and you think it's just rough?"
"Well, yeah," he said, shrugging. "What do you want me to say? Welcome to the club! Dango was still in a drunken state unable to process what Tracy had just told him about the girl called Rosetta"
Her head snapped toward him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Dango said, his voice turning bitter, "you're not the only one whose life fell apart. My wife left me, well it's partly my fault and sent her away with just $200, my bank account's almost dry from these little hook-up bitches in my life, and I've got nothing to my name but this drink, my silly mum, and a bad attitude." He raised his glass in mock celebration. "Cheers."
Tracy's laugh came out harsh and broken. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"
"Misery loves company," he said with a smirk, clinking his glass against hers.
One drink became two, and two became four until their laughter drowned out the world around them.