Chapter Text
Despite everything he did for her, Greta still left.
After all the time she spent with him, being his nanny, and even after he saved her from that pompous excuse for a man she had been dating, she left...just like all the others.
Even his own parents who after the accident... and after the fire could not even bear to look at him, at his burnt and scarred face and made him live in the shadows, in the walls, made him wear a mask to hide the hideous image left on his face which made his mother cry every time he hadn’t been wearing it, transformed him into a doll to resemble the perfect child he was supposed to be and was not anymore.
He should have known, when Greta arrived it was as if his parents had been waiting for a reason to disappear entirely.
As soon as she accepted her position as his caretaker, they left.
But leaving him behind wasn't enough apparently so as the letter delivered to him said they decided to drown themselves, perhaps hoping for peace in heaven... if they deserved it though he wasn’t so sure.
He needed to rest, to make up a plan and understand what could be done before people and police came looking for clues about his parents desperate actions.
Thank god he knew exactly what to do and where to look.
Brahms got immediately to work, he walked into his father’s office and unlocked the hidden safe,
just how he was told to by his parents once they left for the supposed vacation.
As Brahms took out the neatly packed contents and examined them he was absolutely sure now that they had planned all of this…probably thinking he’d successfully keep the girl with him.
he stared at the face in the documents which was a mirror of his own…or at least what he thought his scarred face looked like without the protective layer of his mask, he hated it, that was why he always wore it and avoided looking in the mirror when he wasn’t.
The only thing that held him back from tearing the documents apart was that he knew that without those living here without his parents would be impossible.
Before greta came to be his nanny his Father had taught him what to do in case they were not able to come back right away, he found it weird but had quickly dismissed that thought figuring that his father was simply worried for him… and apparently he was wrong.
Brahms placed all the documents on the desk of what from now on will be his study and did as he practised with his father.
He sat down and searched in his mind for the number his father had him memorise and taking the telephone he dialled it in.
The phone rang once, twice, and before it could hit the fourth, somebody picked up.
A female voice answered in an almost robotic manner:
“Gerard Wilson’s legal studio, I’m Mr. Wilson’s secretary, Victoria. How can I help you?”
Brahms didn’t have the energy to bother with useless greetings, so he got straight to the point—just like he had practiced many times.
“Tell Mr. Wilson that Brahms Heelshire needs to speak with him. It is quite an urgent matter,” he said, slowly adjusting himself into a more comfortable position on the large chair.
“Mr. Wilson is quite busy right now. I will have to schedule you an appointment with him,” said the secretary, as the sounds of typing on a keyboard and scribbling on paper played in the background.
Brahms sighed, and after taking a long breath in and out, he asked again. After all, his temper had brought him nothing but problems.
“As I have already said, just mention my name to—”
Brahms was interrupted by the sound of what seemed to be a heavy sliding door opening, followed by a grave, secure-sounding male voice in the background.
“Victoria, who is it?” the man asked.
“Uhm, it’s Brahms Heelshire, he was—” the woman was immediately interrupted.
“Immediately direct Mr. Heelshire’s call to my office. You may go on your lunch break early today.”
And without another word, the sound of the door shutting echoed through the phone. Brahms slightly smirked as the secretary excused herself and redirected the call to her boss’s office.
⸻
“Brahms, I’ve been waiting for your call. I believe condolences are in order. I also received a letter from your father, so I know you’ll need the documents as soon as possible. Are we going to proceed as previously discussed?”
Brahms nodded, even though he was alone in the room and perfectly aware that his interlocutor couldn’t see him.
“Yes.”
His father was an intelligent man. Sure, he hadn’t been able to fix the horrendous problem he had inadvertently created when Brahms was just a little boy—when he didn’t know better than to play with sticks, pebbles, and rocks as munitions to defend his imaginary castle from enemy invasion, accidentally hitting his only friend on the head.
But he had managed to keep him safe and protected. And even if he hadn’t managed to keep Greta with him, his father had planned everything for the day when his mother and he would be gone.
The plan was simple: call his father’s lawyer, use the perfectly curated fake documents he had found in the envelope, and present them to the lawyer—who would take care of the rest.
In these documents, he had a different name. He had been adopted by the Heelshire family a few years after Brahms was declared dead, and had then been sent to study music in France.
The simple plan was created to allow him to inherit his father’s fortune without risking the unearthing of the whole past affair.
Now, he just had to gradually learn how to fit into modern society, because the only clause his father had made him agree to was that for the first couple of years, he would not have full access to the family’s former wealth…. yet. He will receive enough money to pay bills and basic expenses—groceries, for example…which, after everything that happened, would be one of many new responsibilities he would have to take care of himself.
He will have to find a job.. and after so much neglecting of basic and normal human exposition it won’t be easy, especially because the thought of having to go out of his comfort zone so much and so quickly too was already giving him goosebumps and making his neck and scars hitch.