Heya and welcome to my new multi-chapter story. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

A world of thanks to my amazing beta Harrytwifan who is once again the person who makes my stories pretty and readable for me!
And many praise to KGQ for being an awesome prereader, ass kicker and the best friend one could wish for!

A/N; I do not own Twilight and anyone under 18, better stop right here and turn around!

"You havegot to be fucking kidding me!" I yelled. The middle-aged woman on the other side of the desk, Claudia Burns, looked at me with wide eyes.

"Mr Whitlock, I'm very sorry. Our hands were bound at the time, your parents-" I caught her off with a sneer.

"Don't call them that!" I felt the rage burning through my veins. I couldn't believe what I was being told. "They have never been my parents and they never will be. Shewas! She was my mother and she wanted me! Now you are telling me that she tried to find me, but my- they wouldn't allow my own mother to see me?" I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers and inhaled deeply.

"Mr Whitlock, I'm sorry, they were legally your parents and they had that right until you turned 18. I understand this is very difficult-"

"Difficult?" I snapped at her. The look on her face was pleading and I knew it wasn't her fault, but I was barely holding myself together. "Difficult? That's a fucking understatement. Three days ago, my so-called parents tell me I'm adopted. Three days! I came here, wanting to know where I come from, who myreal parents were. Turns out my real mother tried to find me, wanted me, was here in this very same room 10 years ago, begging you to let her see me. Now you tell me she's dead, that she died mere months before my 18th birthday! You call that fucking difficult?" I slumped down in a chair feeling utterly spent.

"There's more," Claudia said and my head shot up to look her in the eyes. "You weren't the only child Ms. Hale gave up for adoption. You have a sister; a twin sister. If you wish, I could contact her and ask her if she would want to meet you." She eyed me cautiously; afraid I was going to snap again. I didn't. All I could do was sit there and stare at her. For one, my earlier outburst had drained me of all energy. Secondly, this new knowledge had me frozen in my seat. A sister. No, a twin sister! I had a twin!

Trying hard to pull my shit together, I nodded at Claudia. "Yes, I would very much like that," I croaked, my voice sounding weak and broken.

"Okay, Mr Whitlock, I'll contact her today and get back to you as soon as I get an answer. I really am, sorry I mean, I'm really sorry for your loss," she said as she got up from behind her desk and made her way over to me, a crumpled white envelope in her hand. "She wrote to you, your mother. A few days before she died, she came here, sick and weak. She tried to hold out until you and your sister were 18, but she didn't have the strength left. She gave me two letters, one for you and one for your sister. She instructed me to give you your letter should you ever come here looking for her."

I took the envelope from her and ran my fingers over the heavy paper. I could feel tears forming in my eyes and wiped them with the back of my hand. "Thank you," I whispered as she laid her hand on my shoulder.

"I have something else for you," she said as she pulled a folded sheet of paper from her back pocket. "This is the address and plot number of your mother's grave. Listen, Jasper. I've gotten to know your mother a little over the months leading to her death. If you ever want to talk about her, I'm here, okay?"

She squeezed my shoulder and gave me the piece of paper. After a moment of silence she pulled me into a hug, a warm and genuine hug. It felt so good, so safe. I couldn't hold it in any longer and tears rolled down my cheeks. Claudia's small hands rubbed circles on my back as I let it all out. The hurt, the betrayal, the loss and the loneliness.

After what may have been hours, I pulled away from her. I didn't want to, but I knew I should. I was a Whitlock, and a Whitlock didn't hug practical strangers like that. I awkwardly cleared my throat, not knowing what I should do next.

"I mean it, Jasper. Whenever you want to talk, I'll be here," she said and smiled at me. "Whether I hear back from your sister or not, I'll call you on Friday."

I threw her the best smile I could manage, though I was sure it was still weak. "Thank you, Claudia, I'd appreciate that," I said, and with a small nod I left her office.


At home, I pulled a beer from my fridge and fell back on the couch. Taking a large gulp from the bottle, I closed my eyes. The last couple of days had been one hell of a roller-coaster ride. My thoughts drifted back to the conversation that had awoken this whole mess.

I was nervous as hell, sitting at my parent's dinner table. I knew I was going to have to tell them, I'd waited long enough. Sweat covered my back and I had trouble swallowing the perfectly prepared salmon. Not that the exquisite taste of the meal was even registered by my brain. Once again I looked around the silent table. My mother's eyes were fixed on me, like she knew something was going on. My father, however, only had eyes for his plate, always oblivious to the tension at the table.

"Jasper, dear, don't you like your salmon? You want the chef to prepare you something else?" my mother asked. I shook my head.

"No," I started. My voice sounded hoarse, so I cleared my throat. "No, thank you, Mother. The salmon tastes fine."

My mother raised an eyebrow and kept her eyes locked to mine. "Are you ill?" She wrinkled her nose. "You should have said so. I cannot catch a cold, Jasper. Do you know how busy my schedule is this week? If you were ill, you shouldn't have come," she said.

I was feeling a little ill, but I wasn't sick. Well, I wasn't sick in the medical sense of the word. I was basically scared shitless of my parents' reaction when I told them my big secret. Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock, my parents, were socialites. They both came from money-a lot of money. Their life, and by extension mine, revolved around money, power and above all else, status. My secret would certainly not help their pristine reputation.

I knew that my parents must love me, in their own way. They showed me as much, with gifts and compliments for my accomplishments. They weren't the warm kind of parents you saw on television. That was okay, as they were very busy people. They made sure I was well cared for. For example, when I was a child, I had a really nice nanny. Carmen had been my best friend throughout my childhood and adolescence. She loved me, even though at times I made her life hell. Especially when I was a teenager. I hadn't always agreed with her rules. God, I missed her. This would've been so much easier with her around. I knew she wouldn't care, she would support me anyway. She wasn't here though; she died in a car crash when I was 17.

"No, mother, I'm not sick," I answered my mother's scrutinizing stare.

"Well, then," she said, "out with it. I haven't got the slightest idea what on earth could be wrong, but something is clearly bothering you."

I inhaled deeply and held my breath for a couple of seconds.

"I'm gay."

My mother gasped and my father's head shot up. His eyes, filled with confusion, met mine.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked.

"I'm gay," I repeated.

My mother held her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, I saw something familiar in them. Something I had previously only seen there when she looked at poor people. Disgust.

My father was still confused, though. "I don't understand," he said, slightly shaking his head.

"I'm gay, Father," I said a little louder. "What is there to understand? I like cock!"

My mother was suddenly on her feet. "Don't you dare use that language in my house, Jasper!" she shouted. "I don't understand how you could do this to us? Haven't we given you everything? You ungrateful little bastard! We've brought you into our home, fed you, clothed you, gave you an education! This is how you repay us? You go and disgrace us like this?"

I was shocked. What on earth did she mean by 'bringing me into their home'? "W-what?"

She just went on. "This is just sick, Jasper! You will go home and think this through very carefully. You are welcome back in this house when you remember who you are, and apologize to me and your father."

I got to my feet and hit the table with my fist. "I didn't forget who I am, Mother!" I yelled. "I didn't choose to be gay! This IS who I am! I am still your son!" My mother turned away from me, throwing her hands up in the air. "I am STILL you son, Mother!"

She spun back around. "You never were my son, Jasper," she said coldly. "You were adopted. Now get out. You are no longer welcome in our house. I don't even know who you are any more. Get out and don't bother coming back."

With those words, she left the dining room and shut the door behind her. I looked at my father, who was still sitting dumbstruck in his char.

"Father, please," I begged, but he wouldn't even meet my eyes as he got up and made his way to the door.

"Father," I started again, but his harsh words cut me off.

"You are no son of mine," he said before he opened the door and walked out without looking back.

I opened my eyes and took another gulp of beer. The memory still hurt. It felt like daggers stabbing at my heart. I now wondered if they ever really loved me, and my conclusion was no. Claudia told me about the adoption. Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock wanted a child; no, not really wanted, but needed. No one could know that Victoria Caroline van Durenburg-Whitlock and James Carl Whitlock the Third were unable to have children. They didn't want a normal child. No, they wanted a child from a wealthy family, even if it was a bastard.

My real mother, Charlotte Hale, came from such a family. She was only 16 years old when she got pregnant. Her parents sent her off to a distant relative to give birth and put me up for adoption. 'They put US up for adoption,' I corrected myself.

I was merely a way of keeping up appearances to my so-called parents. They never gave a shit about me. They just dumped me into Carmen's loving hands and stayed away from me. I could see that now. As long as I was doing what they wanted me to do, I could be their son. Being gay was not something they wanted me to be, so they would no longer call themselves my parents. Not that I even wanted them to.

After the confrontation, three days ago, they froze my family account. Luckily, I didn't need their money; I had my own. I was a successful plastic surgeon. It wasn't the career I chose for myself; I wanted to specialize in trauma surgery. But a Whitlock couldn't be some unknown trauma surgeon in some local hospital. A Whitlock wasn't born to help others. He was born to help himself, make lots of money and above all, add to his parents' status.

My private clinic tucked tummies, straightened already straight noses, enlarged boobs and injected Botox. Anything for the rich and famous, as long as they paid me generously for it. What Mr. and Mrs Whitlock didn't know, was that I spent half my time in the free clinic downtown. There, I used my skills to do good. I helped people, real people. Not the fake ones that came through my private clinic, but the people in the streets. People that needed me to fix their scarred faces and their children's harelips. Women that needed me to give them breasts after they lost one to cancer. Only a month ago, I gave a child a new nose after she was caught in the crossfire between a gang and the police. A stray bullet hit her and destroyed her once-beautiful, innocent face. That was what got me through my days. The work in the free clinic made my life worth living.

I wondered if my real mother would be proud of me. I didn't know a thing about her, other than that she had wanted me. Would she be disgusted by me if she knew I was gay? Did she love me unconditionally? Did she love my father? Did he even know about me?

I raised the bottle of beer to my lips, but it was empty. I set it back on the table and noticed the white envelope again. I put it there when I got home, not knowing if I should open it or not. Heck, I still didn't know. What if she was a snob, like Victoria and James? She did come from wealth, just like them. Would I want to know? Or was it better to just imagine her as the perfect mother, the mother I always wanted?

I sat there, staring at the envelope well into the night, until I fell asleep on the couch.

The next couple of days were empty. I worked, both at my own clinic and the free clinic, but I worked on autopilot. I couldn't distract myself; every free moment I had, my mind wandered off to my unknown sister and the white envelope on my coffee table. I hadn't opened it yet, still not sure if I ever would. I did catch myself on my way home from work, driving towards the cemetery where my mother's grave was located. I never actually entered, though.

On Friday I called in sick, as I was nervous as hell. Would my sister want to meet me? What would she be like? What was her life like? Did her adoptive parents love her? I wished Claudia would call, already. This expense was tearing me up.

She didn't call until the late afternoon, but her excited words made up for all my anxiety.

"Jasper! I have great news!" she yelled into my ear as soon as I answered the phone. "She wants to meet you, soon!"

"Wow, that's great, Claudia. How does she want to do this? Meet up over lunch? Or maybe dinner? My schedule is quite hectic, but I'll find time, I'll make time." I was babbling, but I didn't care. My sister wanted to meet me!

"Well, Jasper, you would probably need to clear a bit more of your schedule. I forgot to tell you, but your sister doesn't live in California. She doesn't even live in the United States. Her adoptive parents moved to England nearly 15 years ago."

This stilled the excitement that had bloomed in my heart only seconds ago. I had a sister. Family. I wasn't alone. But she was so far away; I might as well be alone.

"Jasper? Are you still there?" Claudia asked.

"Yeah, I am, just a bit shocked I guess." I answered her weakly.

"I know this isn't a perfect situation, Jasper," she said, "but she really wants to meet you. She's invited you to come to England and stay with her and her fiancé. She said she'd love to come to you, but her grandmother is very ill, so she doesn't feel like she can leave the country right now."

I could certainly understand that. When Carmen was in the hospital after her accident, fighting for her life, Victoria and James practically dragged me to Hawaii. Pain, sickness, death - nothing could stop the Whitlocks from going on their annual holiday. When we got back, Carmen had died. I didn't get to say goodbye to her and I wasn't allowed to go to her funeral. I cried for weeks, but Victoria held her ground. She told me it was my own fault I was hurting, I shouldn't have become so attached to an employee.

I ran my fingers through my hair and started clearing my schedule in my head. I could certainly leave my own clinic for a couple of weeks; I had enough good surgeons working for me to keep it running for a while. The free clinic was a different story; I needed to find a solution for that one.

"I'll try and get a few weeks off as soon as possible. In the meantime, is there any way I could contact… Shit! I don't even know her name!" I cried out in frustration.

"Rose. It's Rose. Rosalie Mary Warren," Claudia quickly told me, "and she said I could give you her phone number, so you two can make further arrangements."

'Rosalie Mary Warren, my sister.' A warm feeling spread through me, as if she just became real. I quickly wrote down the phone number and promised to call Rosalie soon.

"Thank you, Claudia. Thank you for all that you're doing for me," I said.

"You're very welcome, Jasper, but there's no need to thank me," she replied. "Now go and call your sister."

After I hung up, I immediately did. It was a very awkward conversation, but she sounded genuinely excited to meet me. Her voice was warm and melodious. We talked for a bit and I promised to call her as soon as I knew when I could come to England.

Next, I made phone calls to clear my schedule. I called a surgeon I knew from medical school and hired him to take over my work at the free clinic for a while. He was a good surgeon and I had no problem paying him out of my own pocket. I booked a ticket on-line for the upcoming week and called Rosalie back to let her know when I would arrive.

This was a good thing. For the first time in I don't know how long, I didn't feel alone.


When the plane touched down, I opened my eyes and thanked God for our safe landing. I didn't like flying. I actually hated it. There was so much that could go wrong up there. Besides that, if a boat sank, I could at least swim. If a train was about to crash, I could theoretically jump off and walk away. But I could not fly. High up in the air, I was helpless, left to the mercy of the pilot and the technology that kept the plane from coming down.

As the lights went on, letting me know I could unbuckle my seatbelt, I moved in my seat. My whole body hurt. Fuck! I was a wreck! That was what thirteen hours of sitting still does to you. Especially if you spent the whole time trying to crush the armrests with your hands, rigid and tensed.

I went through the familiar routine of getting off the plane, picking up my luggage and going through customs. When I went through the double sliding doors into the main hall, the first thing I saw were two clear blue eyes. I knew those eyes very well; they stared at me every morning as I looked in the mirror. These eyes weren't mine, though; they belonged to a woman that looked so much like me it was eerie. Her long blond hair had the exact same touch of honey as mine. She had the same high cheekbones as I did and her lips were the exact same shade of pink.

I knew the moment she noticed me. Her eyes turned wide and her lips parted. She was as surprised by our similarities as I was. When she yanked a man by his arm and he turned around and met my eyes, I knew I was in trouble. Not in an I-stole-a-cookie-and-got-caught kind of trouble, but deep, serious shit.

End note; I'll be posting this story on either a weekly or a 2 weekly basis. The first 13 chapters of this story have been written and I'm working hard on the rest. Let me know what you think of it! :D