A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for checking out the newest (if a bit late) update on Brandon's journal. This chapter goes straight to Chapter 26 of TMMM as this is a more prominent part in Charlotte and Brandon's story together. Some people have complained that they skipped past all the Championettes stuff and I agree that it's not the most exciting part or the part that makes you go 'Aww' but  the small blocks of the climax of the story were embedded in them. It was also an important showcase of Charlotte's struggle as she tries to find her place among Boston's elite and make the most unlikely of friends. 

Anyway, enough ranting. Enjoy!

***

I planned it to be a week of surprises.

It turns out I wasn't the only one with that plan.

First, I was notified of a house going up for sale in the Back Bay area.

It'll be my present to her on her twentieth birthday—no, not the house exactly, but a home.

Since Charlotte told me how she used to walk around that neighborhood when she couldn't go home, admiring the many grand houses and the fabulous lives that occupied them, I knew I wanted to find her a place there. She wasn't just going to be a spectator any longer. She'd have her own grand home and her own fabulous life, with a husband who loves her and the bright, happy children they'll have in the future.

The house is old but every bit as elegant as it once was. I'm tempted to have it upgraded so I could present it to Charlotte in perfect condition but I have a feeling that she'll appreciate the flaws, especially if she could turn them into something wonderful later. So I left it as is. It'll be our home, our project—bare bones and scuffed hardwood and all.

The other surprise was the birthday party at Marlow's. I've signed up Felicity and my sisters on it. It's still several weeks away but I wanted everything planned out perfectly. It's going to beat out every birthday in Charlotte's history. It's her first one with me and I want her to know that every birthday after this is going to be special. I mean, it's a day I'm extremely grateful for. I won't tell her because she doesn't need me to be any more cheesy than I already am but I think the world became just a little extra special when she was born into it.

The next surprise caught me off guard.

Filbert informed me that he'd tracked down Louisa Samuels. Well, actually, it's Louisa Weller now. She has her own scrapbooking supply business now and is married to a man who owns a furniture shop in Cedartown, Georgia. She has two children with him, both girls, one of which is named Natalie whom Charlotte had seen on a televised spelling bee once.

I'm still debating what to do.

On one hand, I want to run to Charlotte and tell her that I found her Mom for her. I know that the short history they share is ugly but I've always thought that we all need a mother in our lives in some shape or form. At least that's how I felt, having lost my mother and then Evelyn. Many times over the years, I've heard Mattie or my sisters say that they wished their mother was alive. So I think there's some value in at least reconnecting the two women.

But on the flip side of that, I'm worried that Charlotte may have never wanted to find her in the first place. Once or twice, I've observed that deep flash of anger I rarely see from Charlotte and it makes me think that somewhere, under the sunny surface of her strong personality, there's still something that hurts and festers. Scars are nasty but I think she'll prefer them over a wound that never closes and heals. I personally don't have a high opinion of Louisa Samuels myself. Compared to the mothers I've known, she's missed the mark by an incredible margin when she abandoned Charlotte. But then I've also seen her pictures with her family, with her daughters. And I wonder if her past mistakes were just that—mistakes. Mistakes that Charlotte wouldn't have to keep paying for her entire life. My interest in this is to patch up what I could of Charlotte's broken heart and fill whatever little chips and gaps that I could in it. There's not a whole lot left of her past that I can work with except her mother. And I know it's a risky proposition which is why I plan to take it slow.

I was going to talk to her after the fashion show the Championettes did for the opening of Fashion Week. It was a big event for her. She's been working her butt off since joining the Championettes and she doesn't deserve the extra stress. Dad planned a small, cozy brunch the day after and I figured that maybe after being surrounded by her family and closest friends, Charlotte would warm up to the idea of meeting her mother. I don't expect it to be an instantaneous mend but I'm hoping that at the very least Charlotte would no longer jump and try to skitter away at the mention of her mother. That alone proves just how much of this past is still very much in the present.

But thanks to Francis's ever-growing greed despite Nicole's hesitant agreement to take small steps with him, those plans were dashed back into the farthest recesses of my mind.

The last surprise—a nasty one, in my opinion, but also a necessary one.

I wasn't out for very long—just long enough to try to reassure Nicole that Francis wasn't going to push her for anything she wasn't ready for, and to have my driver take her home.

But you know what they say about how something could change even in the blink of an eye.

I knew the moment I walked into the room, feeling the thick, mounting tension as several pairs of wide eyes turned my way, that something had gone terribly wrong.

And I knew, the moment I looked into Charlotte's blue-green eyes, bright with guilty tears and shame, that the secret was out.

It's strange, how you're so prepared for some big disaster to happen and then completely forget what you're supposed to do when it's finally unfolding before your very eyes.

The first thing that went wrong in my grand master plan on how to deal with the secret once it's out is Charlotte deciding to throw herself under the mighty bus while mentally yelling at me to stay far away. That she would be okay to take the brunt of it.

Like hell she would.

Francis didn't give either of us much room as he stated in loud, accurate detail the contract we struck. There was no way to angle that differently. The bastard explained it like a scientific paper—which is strange in itself. I've imagined a variety of ways that Francis would go about this reveal, all of them with the smug gloating he would accompany it with in no small measure. This is his shining moment—his imagined fist of glory that would finally pound me down into dust. He should've looked a little more self-satisfied than he did when he painted the truth in nearly clinical black and white. But that's a mystery for another day.

All that I wanted to do, the moment I realized Charlotte had decided to play martyr and steer all the blame in her direction, was to scoop her up and make a break for it. I didn't want her to stand there any longer, bravely, if not foolishly, taking all the weight of the guilty truth on her delicate shoulders. Even red-faced with shame, her eyes glittering so brilliantly with an ocean of tears she was barely keeping at bay, she stood there, waiting for the retribution, waiting to be cast off as she felt she deserved for the bargain she'd struck.

And while my family and friends mean a lot to me, my choice is made—and damn well carved in stone—no matter how many backs are turned to us after this day.

It was a choice I made very clear to anyone who doubted for a second that Charlotte and I were still play-acting for the sake of the fucking contract.

And apparently, it's a choice that may not have been all that necessary considering Dad just casually admitted his ploy. Not that it matters now.

Dad explained that no matter what his ultimatum was, in the end, the choice was mine and Charlotte's to make. And we definitely made a reckless one that paid off in ways neither of us imagined.

We wanted this ourselves.

I think we knew that somehow, somewhere deep in our hearts, even when we refused to believe the possibility after we first met. While the contract and all its trappings made it sound like a great, win-win deal, no one signs a year of their life to marry someone. At least not me, for all my usual cold, calculated logic—I would've found a way out. And definitely not Charlotte, who couldn't be motivated by money no matter how badly she needed it and with all the trust issues she doesn't know she has when it comes to letting someone in that close to her—she would've never sold her soul out like that.

And I think, while the contract felt like a big, dirty secret this whole time, it means little to us now. And I think our family and friends agree. Charlotte would take some time to get through her guilt because as per her own confession, she never wanted to be a bad person. She never wanted to be like her parents, knowing how much she'd suffered because they couldn't see past their own selfishness.

Despite us walking out of my father's house with a lot less guilt and blame than we'd imagined, I think there's still much forgiving that needs to happen—and not just for the present but also for the past.

- B

***

So, what do you think?

It's weird that when I started the story, the contract piece was so critical to the story but as I wrote Brandon and Charlotte out, it became less and less important and I felt that the reveal just needed to be more of a relief than an actual obstacle. So I'm happy with how it turned out and how everyone handled it. Hope you did too. Enjoy your weekend!

XOXO!

-Ninya

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Sinners by Lauren Aquilina♪♪♪

Our lives are stories, waiting to be told

In search of silver linings, we discovered gold

And judgement taught us that our hearts were wrong

But they're the ones that we'll look down upon

The rules say our emotions don't comply

But we'll defy the rules until we die

So let's be sinners to be saints

And let's be winners by mistake

The world may disapprove

But my world is only you

And if we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me

You showed me feelings I've never felt before

We're making enemies, knocking on the devil's door

But how can you expect me not to eat,

When the forbidden fruit tastes so sweet?

So let's be sinners to be saints

And let's be winners by mistake

The world may disapprove

But my world is only you

And if we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me