"To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power..." - Maya Angelou

The cataclysmic power of the earth rumbled the very foundation of Grayson Manor, so much so that the walls appeared to shake with the force. Hurricane Victoria wreaked havoc across the Hampton coastline and Grayson Manor bore the brunt of her force.

"You look about as miserable as the weather does," Emily Grayson comically commented to her husband.

"Yeah," Daniel murmured in agreement, as they curled up together on the sofa and her legs overlapped his own. Neither had outwardly confronted the irony in the name of the hurricane that raged on outside. It was most appropriate, given the date. It was nineteen years to the day of the Grayson family downfall: his mother had met a gruesome and fiery demise in the still-suspicious plane explosion; his sister, Charlotte, had died from an overdose; and his father had been forced to finally face the consequence of his actions in the summer of '93.

"It's forecast to pass over tonight," she informatively replied, painfully aware of her husband's sombre spirit.

Daniel's eyes flickered around the room. The memories were still raw for him, the reminders of his nuclear family constant in his childhood kingdom, and the weather's relentless attack meant there was no escape. "I think I'll work on that proposal in the office."

Emily silently acknowledged his retreat, with a gentle smile and nod. Years of experience had taught her the importance that Daniel's solitary need be met, especially on this anniversary. Sometimes, he needed a moment to himself. Sometimes, so did she. Her words of comfort - "I do know how you feel" - were so often dismissed, but she really did. Charlotte, his half-sister, her half-sister... nineteen years on, and Emily still hadn't been able to shrug off the guilt she had been plagued with since the adolescent succumbed to her desperation absolute. There were moments that she even felt sorrow for the loss of Victoria. In spite of her cruelty and manipulation, Daniel's mother had almost been as much a pawn in Conrad's game as her father had been. Her only consolation was the evidence Nolan had retrieved, enough to imprison the Grayson heir and his associates for their crimes.

The ring-ring of the telephone attracted her attention and she answered, "Emily Grayson."

"Hi, Ems." The breezy nature of his voice had a calming effect on her. It was in stark contrast to the thunder that growled in the distance.

"Nolan."

"Hurricane Victoria, huh." The irony most likely hadn't been lost on him either. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's almost as if she's behind it."

A vision of Nolan quivering in his cliffside fortress, suitably terrified of the storm that battered his house entered Emily's mind. He had never liked storms. Apparently, it was one of those childhood 'issues' that no amount of therapy could cure. "You sound paranoid, Nolan."

"I'm in reflection mode is all," Nolan corrected, snappy in his retaliation. It had become somewhat of a tradition to reminisce on their grand scheme.

"You're not the only one," she muttered, as she eyed the bolted-shut doors of Daniel's home office.

"Don't say there's trouble in paradise?" Gleeful, Nolan anticipated confirmation of his suspicion. It was against his better judgement that Emily had followed through with her marriage to Daniel, and he was bitterly disappointed that their union had lasted far longer than predicted. Nevertheless, he and her husband had forged a friendship, if it could be described as such, and Nolan often celebrated annual holidays with his extended family.

"Daniel's barely spoken two words to me all day. He hasn't even been to the cemetery." Daniel annually visited his mother and sister's grave. Authorities had claimed Victoria and Lydia's bodies were too damaged for official identification, but Charlotte's body had been laid to rest beside her biological father and the headstone celebrated brother mother and daughter.

There was a brief pause before Nolan asked, "Have you?"

A pool of tears clouded her vision and threatened to fall down the valley of her cheeks. Nolan was the one person in the entire world to appreciate how great the loss of Charlotte had been for her, too. Finally, she answered, "No." Nor had she planned to visit. It would be the first year that she had failed to pay her respects.

"I'm sure she would understand," Nolan solemnly replied. Of course, Charlotte would understand. At her young age, so many underestimated her capabilities, especially when her addiction became public knowledge; but, forgiveness and her empathetic ability were her greatest strength. Emily knew Charlotte would have understood.

Within five minutes or so, Emily wrapped up the conversation and hung up the phone. She wandered toward the home office and knocked, before she entered to discover Daniel, his eyes focused on the bottle of Scotch and a glassful of temptation beside it. Emily slid the doors shut, to ensure their privacy, and walked behind him. Her arms draped around his neck and her chin rested on his shoulder. It was not the first time she had stumbled upon him in a state of undecided conflict. It was terribly sad that, even after years of maturity, Daniel still struggled with his addiction. He may have never encountered 'rock bottom' - at least, not since their first encounter - but Emily found it fair to label him an alcoholic.

"Pour me one."

"Have that one," Daniel slid the glass across the desk.

Searing relief coursed through her veins and Emily kissed his cheek, "I love you." She climbed into the opening of his lap and guided his cheek to her breast. "I love you, and I love our family." Daniel reached for the family portrait proudly displayed on his desk. Six broad smiles beamed at him, including his own. He and Emily had been immensely lucky and eternally happy. One year into their marriage, Charlotte's debut was heralded within the Hampton's and the physical similarity to her namesake was striking. After her high-school graduation, Charlotte applied to Yale but annually returned to the Hampton's for the summer. Shortly after her arrival, his mother was reincarnated in the form of Sophia, a black-haired, green-eyed, daddy's-little-princess. She possessed the business sense and smarts to run Grayson Global, or the universe, if she harnessed her intellectual power. Several years on, twelve to be exact, Emily produced two healthy unisex twins, Jacob and Hannah.

"I'm home!"

Daniel and Emily strode into the foyer, where their second-eldest child appeared drenched and ice cold. "Baby, you're soaked." Emily stroked Sophia's shoulders and became overwhelmed with maternal concern. "I'll find you a towel."

Her mother raced up the stairs, quicker than a woman of her age should have been able to. "There's a pot of hot tea in the kitchen." Daniel beckoned Sophia, who smoothed a hand through her jet-black strands, which had knotted considerably in the rain. "Where were you tonight?"

"With Chris," Sophia followed her father and happily accepted the warm beverage.

Daniel did little to prevent the eye-roll that followed her response. Chris Porter, the son of Jack and Amanda, had swept his seventeen year old daughter off of her feet, much to his disapproval. Ironically, Daniel had always insisted he would never dare interfere in his children's romantic relationships, after the damage his parents had caused him, but the son of Jack Porter was an impossible ask. "You were with him yesterday."

"Sophia!" Jacob and Hannah dually raced down the stairs to their older, much adored sister.

"They missed you for family movie night last night," her mother returned with the towel. "We watched The Lion King and someone," Emily side-eyed her husband. "Snored the entire way through." Sophia giggled, and dried herself from soaked to damp. "How was your date with Chris?"

"His parents were out of town. He cooked." In her father's presence, Sophia had learnt to keep her answers short and to the point, where it concerned her boyfriend.

The youngest Grayson children reached for the mounted television remote and started to surf the available movie options. "Movie night was yesterday, sweetheart." Emily gently reminded the twins, who hyped one another up at the possibilities.

"But daddy fell asleep!" Hannah contested, the mirror image of her father and his pout.

"... and Sophia wasn't home, so it didn't count!"

Their mother surrendered early in the battle, which was a preferable option, given the world war-style arguments she had endured with her wilful children. The opening scene of The Lion King 2 serenaded the family of three, while Sophia privately cornered her father in the kitchen. "Dad, did you and mom visit aunt Charlotte's grave today? Chris and I planned to, but the road was closed off because of the storm."

"No," Daniel bowed his head, ashamed of his response.

"Show your father the picture Chris drew for you," her mother probed, evidently eavesdropping on their conversation from afar.

Sophia diligently retrieved the charcoal sketch of the Grayson family, which included all six living family members, and his parents and sister integrated, too. Daniel was lost for words, not only at the beauty of the picture, but the physical closeness of his mother and father's picture beside his children. It was paradoxical. "He drew me from memory and I showed him that old family photo of Conrad, Victoria and aunt Charlotte."

"Who's that?" Jacob pointed a chubby finger at Sophia's carbon-copy in the sketch, and gulped at the glass of juice he had poured himself from the fridge.

"That is your Grandmother." Daniel calmly explained, "She was my mother." Every one of his children had been exposed to his father, who was serving a life-sentence, and he regularly reminisced about his sister, Charlotte; but his mother very rarely entered conversation.

"What was she like?" Hannah swivelled on her sofa cushion and appealed to her mother or father for an answer.

"She was..." Daniel's eyes darted toward his wife for some kind of life raft, but he was painfully aware that only he could - and should - answer the question. "Your Grandmother," he stared out the window, where the rain drizzled against the pane and flashes of white brightened the dismal, grey skies for a split-second. "Was a hurricane of sorts." And that much was solid truth. Anyone, who had ever encountered Victoria Grayson, knew without a doubt that the Grayson matriarch was a force to be reckoned with, not only that; she was a force of nature.