Anna and I had spent the past three hours in the same clothing store now. Anna was anything but a compulsive shopper. I, on the other hand, had spent the past few hours controlling my urge to complain. I had never been a patient shopper and I was currently dozing off in one of the fitting rooms. I couldn't even imagine the kind of dreariness Gabrielle was being put through. Gabrielle, or Gabe as he prefer being called, was a lean yet surprisingly strong man in his early 30's that had been assigned to Anna for her protection. He had been working with Jean's family since he was 21 years old and had finally earned the honor of being part of The Guard.  This was the term loosely implied to describe the inner circle Jean employed to protect Anna and him, which mainly comprised of Lorenzo, Alessandro and Gabe. I had also learnt from Anna that Lorenzo was Jean's Head of Security and Alessandro was his second in command, which meant he was being groomed to take over from Lorenzo in case anything untoward happened to him. 

After Anna had finally paid, we walked out and headed towards something to eat. Gabe was walking a few feet behind us, trying to be discreet in a pair of khaki shorts, shirt and shoes. I turned around and beckoned  him to come join us.

"Nah, I'm fine right here," he replies, with his effortless smile that could put anyone at ease. Unlike Lorenzo, Gabe didn't mind speaking with Anna and I and quite often joked around with us. He felt more like a friend than a guard.

We made our way to Avicii Cafe and insisted Gabe  to sit and eat with us.

"Why do you always walk behind us? What if someone attacked from the front?" I ask him. We had ordered a round of wine for ourselves, but Gabe had politely declined and stuck to water with ice. 

"Oh, that wouldn't be smart. I would sneak out so easily if Gabe walked ahead of me. I would always do that with the guard I had before him when I was in high school. The man was built like a wall and had the emotional competence of one too. He once --," Anna said, when Gabe started laughing.

"Oh man, I remember him. Rox, right? Big burly man with the weird mustache?" Gabe asked.

"You knew him?" Anna asked, shocked at the fact that Gabe knew Rox as she believed they had  never had a reason to meet.

"Yeah. He is working as a bouncer for the Batofar these days."

"Really? That must have felt like such a downgrade," Anna said.

"Downgrade?" I ask.

"You don't go from personal security to one of Paris' richest families to a sub par club's bouncer unless you really fuck up," Gabe explains to me. "All he does now is check ID's at the front gate and break up drunken brawls. Where is the fun in that?"

"That sucks. What happened to land him in such a position?" I ask.

This questions seems to bring out some hidden amusement within Gabe and Anna. Anna turns to me and says, "I was in high school when this incident took place. I should remind you that I was a brat then and extremely strong headed. I was constantly followed around by Rox and it tended to unnerve even the biggest boys in my school. People started to avoid inviting me to their parties. So, one day, I made  a plan to sneak away from Rox."

This causes Gabe to crack up again. 

Anna continues after rolling her eyes at Gabe's mirth. "Earlier in the day, my friend, who worked as a part time intern at the Animal Kingdom Zoo, was able to procure me a tiny tranquilizer gun."

"Oh my god," I say, covering my mouth with my hands, knowing the direction in which this story was heading.

Anna looks sheepishly at me. "I may, or may not have, shot him with a tranquilizer dart actually meant for an alligator."

A laugh gurgles in my throat. "Was he alright?" I ask.

"The man was built like a bear. The only thing that was damaged that day was his reputation and ego," Gabe said and shrugs the incident off as nothing more than harmless mirth.

"Why would you do that?" I ask Anna.

"My school's soccer team had just won the State Championship after 5 years and I didn't want to miss their celebratory party. It would have sucked the fun out of everyone if I had showed up with that wall of muscles."

"Oh my god."

"That's not the worst part," Gabe says. He looks at Anna as if urging her to finish the full story.

"Some of my friends might have drawn phallic shaped symbols in sharpie all over his face and dyed his mustache blue." Anna looks a little ashamed with that part of the story.

I laugh. "So, Jean fired him then?" I ask.

"Correction. Jean fired a man with penis' drawn all over his face while sporting a blue mustache," Gabe says.

"Yeah. He was livid at having a member of the guard being overtaken by a bunch of pubescent kids. I was grounded for the whole semester. But, guess who played 7 minutes in heaven with the soccer team captain?" Anna folds her arms, a look of smugness on her face.

"Isn't she a delight," I turn around and tell Gabe.

He laughs at my sarcasm. "She is. But we have an understanding. If she ever pulls off any of those stunts with me, I'm going to make sure Jean assigns Alessandro to her."

Anna's disgust is apparent. "Ugh. The man does not speak at all. And he's always tattling to Jean about everything that goes on in my life. He's worse than Rox."  

Speaking of Jean, Anna's phone starts ringing, and Jean's name flashes across her iPhone screen.  She picks it up and answers. I hear the one sided conversation that seems to increase Anna's annoyance.

"I am not coming home. It's only 7pm."

"But I have Gabe with me."

"Jean, you need to let me loose a little. I don't need to live like this."

"You need to stop acting so paranoid!"

"Fine, I'll come home in half an hour."

She finally ends the call, frustrated at having been ordered around. 

"Jean's getting worse, Gabe. What the hell happened when I left for India?" Anna asks.

"He's always been protective of you," Gabe replies in his Boss' defense.

"But this is ridiculous. He's never been this controlling. The man is only 26 years old and worries all the damn time."

"Do you blame him? You're the only family he has left."

I feel like an outsider to this exchange that flows between Anna and Gabe. I am wondering if Daniel Vanderbilt was behind Jean's recent controlling nature towards Anna.  I mentally bookmark this conversation for a later date.

"Let's go," Anna sighs in defeat. "The last thing I want to do is pick a fight with him. He has enough people doing that these days." 

We make our way to the car in silence, the light-hearted and jovial nature of the day dissolving into frustration and veiled bitterness. The car ride back is quiet except for the sounds of Avicii blaring through the speakers. Gabe deftly drives us through the evening traffic and before long, we are making the turn towards the driveway.

Anna and I gloomily make our way back in and head towards the dining room for dinner. I had never stepped foot into this particular room before. I either skipped most of my meals or had them with Anna at one of the many delectable cafes that Paris had to offer. The dining room had a 15 foot long teak table with a seating arrangement for 12 people. The room was carpeted with a silk maroon rug that gave the room a royal touch. Expensive china patterns were neatly arranged for 3 people and a polite steward helped us with our chairs.

"Madam, would you like to start with an appetizer?" he asks Anna.

"I think I'll skip it and go straight for the main course, Francis," Anna replies. Then she gestures towards me and tells Francis, "This is my friend. She'll be staying with us for a while."

Francis extends a warm smile towards me. "It's lovely to have you, Miss. Would you also like to skip the appetizer and delve straight into the main course?"

"Thanks, that would be great, Francis," I say.

Francis was a stout old man with a receding grey hairline. He was well past his 60's but bustled about the kitchen and dining room in an efficient and quick manner that belied his old age. He had prepared a lavish meal of steak and mashed potatoes and offered  a perfectly paired red wine with it, that I had gently declined and earned a disapproving look for. Anna and I settled into light chatter about the weather and the recent political unrest prevalent within the European Union. We had requested to be served dessert when the room door barged open and in came Jean.

He quickly snapped his fingers at Francis and within seconds a fresh plate of steak and mashed potatoes was kept in front of him. He adroitly cut into the steak and seemed to chew if for a moment as if to test the dish's flavor. He then sipped his red wine and hummed in pleasure at the perfect combination. The clinking of cutlery on expensive plates seemed to be the only sounds for a while in the room.

Jean took the plunge and was the first to break the silence. "Are you ready for college?"

Anna replied curtly, "I am."

"Anna, I don't know why you insist on making things harder than they need to be," Jean sighs.

This causes Anna to cry out in vexation. "I am not trying to make your life hard. I think you need to ease up a little."

"The last time I made the mistake of easing up on you, 2 hired men were shooting at you. You are lucky to even be alive," Jean clips back. Jean hadn't raised his voice by a single decibel and yet you could sense a hidden undercurrent of anger and desperation. He had the knack of calmly delivering a line to someone in such a polite manner that one could almost miss the veiled threats that usually accompanied these lines.   

"That was 2 years ago," Anna said, not budging from her stance on being treated as a child.

"Things have only gotten worse. You need to be more cautious now," Jean said.

"Things are always bad around here. Ever since Mom and Dad died, things have only gotten worse," Anna cries out. Her eyes turn misty and she slaps her napkin on the table, pulls back her chair and leaves the room without another word.

I contemplate leaving after her when Francis enters the dining room and places a decadent ice cream and macaroon dish in front of me. Not wanting to be rude, I sit in silence and try scoffing down as much of the ice cream as I  can without getting a brain freeze. I was not comfortable being in Jean's presence yet.

Without Anna acting as a buffer between Jean and I, he turned all of his attention to me. "Are you settling in well here?"

"Yes, everything is perfect. Thank you," I say. I was genuinely grateful for the hospitality his place offered. Although, I believe, it was only because of Anna rather than him, I chose to leave this part out of our conversation.

Jean slices his steak, stabs his fork into it, and guides it to his mouth, all the while keeping his eyes trained on me. I had only been subjected rarely to his intense one-on-one scrutiny and never had I been alone with him. I am abjectly aware of all my surroundings and turn my attention back to my ice cream. The damn thing was too cold to be shoved down my throat.

"If everything is so well, why do you keep reverting back to your old social media accounts?" Jean asks.

The blood drains from my face. "How do you know about that?"

"Gabe might seem very friendly to you, but there's a reason he was chosen as part of my Guard. You do know that logging into any of your old accounts is in direct violation of our agreement we made before leaving India?"

I downcast my eyes.  "Yes," I hoarsely reply.

"How do you think people will react if they find you online when you were supposed to have died a week ago?"

I sit in silence as a child does when they're being reprimanded by their parents. I knew logging in was wrong, but a part of me was curious to see how everyone was taking my death. There was a perverse need in me to check if people missed me at all. I was also tempted to message my sister, but I had kept that impulse in check. It would serve no purpose telling her I was alive. I would never be able to see her again either way.

"I have your new set of documents -- birth certificate, passport, drivers licence, voter ID card and credit history. I can help you start a whole new life here. But if you continue to hold onto the past, I can just as easily burn up your new identity. You shall be free to leave and do as you please. But let me be clear, you will not be under my protection anymore."

I gulped. Jean's eyes pierced me with blatant contempt at having to babysit me.

"So, what choice do you make?" Jean asks. He sets down his fork and knife, reaches into his jacket pocket to extract a yellow manila envelope. These must be the new set of documents  he was mentioning.

I look at it. In the previous days, I admit, I had flirted with the idea of escaping Paris and going back to India, even though I knew that India was not an option anymore. Although Gabe had tattled to Jean, he had failed to mention to him what had initially triggered my need to check my Facebook and Instagram account. I had been flipping through the news articles on my phone that morning when I had come across a gruesome image of a car crash and the photo of a man, in tears, being hugged by his daughter and wife. The people in that photo were my family and the desolate sight of them had punched me straight in the gut. Without thinking twice, I had logged into my Facebook account and had checked their profiles. There were hundreds of messages on their walls from friends and family, displaying all their sympathies at the tragic accident. Not one of these messages had been acknowledged by my family. I was sitting thousands of miles away from them, yet their grief was palpable.

Before I could sink into the despair of having been separated from my family, I looked at Jean and said, "I'll stay out of my old life."

Jean patiently waits and sees if I change my mind. I maintain my eye contact with him, not blinking lest he take this option away from me. After seeing the resoluteness in my eyes, he slowly slides the documents over to me. I palm the yellow colored envelope in my hands and clutch it close to myself. I make my way to leave and when I am almost out the door, I hear Jean's voice,  "Welcome to the family."

I walk up the staircase to my bedroom and hope against hell that picking this new life wasn't a mistake. I open the envelope once I'm finally in bed and a bunch of documents fall into my lap. I pick one up and see a photo of myself. Next to my face, under the title of First Name were the letters E L L A and under the title of the second name were the letters R E N A U L D. 

I finally understood what Jean meant when he said 'Welcome to the family.' I was now a Renauld.