Revealing My Secret Identities! My Bros Are Speechless!

The argument inside cut off instantly. The silence that followed was heavy.

Heavy footsteps approached the door. The lock turned with a scrape of metal on metal. The door swung open.

A young man stood there. He was about Journey's age, maybe a year older. He wore a faded NYU t-shirt and held a thick medical textbook in one hand. His eyes were dark, intelligent, and guarded.

He looked at Journey. He looked at the trunks. He looked at her bare feet.

Behind him, a woman wiped her eyes with a dish towel. Elara Cobb.

"Hi," Journey said. Her voice was steady, despite her racing heart. "I'm Journey. I think... I think we were switched."

The book slipped from the young man's hand. He caught it against his leg, fumbling.

Elara dropped the towel. She rushed forward, pushing past the young man. She stopped inches from Journey, her hands hovering in the air, trembling.

"Oh, God," Elara whispered. "Oh, my God."

She reached out, her rough, calloused fingers brushing Journey's cheek. Journey didn't flinch. She leaned into the touch.

"You look just like your grandmother," Elara sobbed. Tears spilled over, tracking through the lines on her face.

The young man-Nolan, Journey's brain supplied from the file-grabbed Journey's arm and pulled her inside. He scanned the hallway nervously before slamming the door and engaging the deadbolt.

The apartment was small. Claustrophobic. The living room was cluttered with boxes, stacks of paper, and bottles of medication. The walls were covered in framed certificates-perfect attendance, honor roll. The family's wealth was on the walls, not in the bank.

"Water?" Nolan asked. He went to the kitchenette and came back with a glass. It had a chip in the rim.

"Thank you." Journey took it and drank. The water tasted metallic. She didn't care.

"We... we didn't know you were coming today," Elara stammered, wringing her hands. "Alleen said..." She stopped, pain flashing across her face.

"Alleen is where she wants to be," Journey said gently. She set the glass down. "And I am where I should be."

Nolan narrowed his eyes. "Do you know what that means? This isn't Kensington Manor. We don't have staff."

"I know," Journey said. She met his gaze. "I brought my luggage. I didn't bring the privilege."

It was a lie. She brought power he couldn't imagine, but he didn't need to know that yet.

Elara looked like she wanted to hug Journey but was afraid of staining the white silk blouse.

Journey stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman. She smelled of onions and old soap. It was the most grounding smell Journey had encountered in years.

"Mom," she whispered. "I'm home."

Elara broke. She wailed, burying her face in Journey's shoulder.

Nolan watched them, his jaw tight. He looked like he was trying to solve a complex equation.

"You're Nolan," Journey said, pulling back slightly but keeping an arm around Elara. Her eyes drifted to the bookshelf behind him, noting the spine of a heavy 'Gray's Anatomy' and a stethoscope draped over a chair. "Pre-med?"

Nolan stiffened. "You're observant."

"I pay attention to details," Journey said softly.

She didn't mention that she was the anonymous donor behind the scholarship that paid his tuition. That was a secret for another day.

The sound of keys jingling came from outside the door.

Nolan's posture shifted. He moved in front of Journey and Elara, protective.

"Dad and the boys are home," he said.