As I sit in the record label’s meeting room, waiting to see if they’ll offer me a deal, my mind drifts back over the past few years—becoming Britney and Brie’s dad when they were just fifteen, uncovering Britney’s secret passion for singing, and Brie’s hidden talent for mastering music. The memories, both painful and beautiful, carried me here.
The label wasn’t just impressed with the CDs I sent in—it was Britney’s voice that caught them. Raw. Unique. Unforgettable. They even said she could be the next queen of pop. And now they want to meet her. That’s the problem.
Sean enters, followed by four others, breaking me out of my thoughts. Now I’m getting a bit nervous. I thought this was just going to be the two of us.
“Hi Chris—I’m Sean. Nice to finally put a face to the voice,” he says with an easy smile. “I wanted to include the production team for this. We listened to the CDs, and we really want to meet Britney. But since you mentioned there are a few issues, I brought them in to see if we can make this work. I hope that’s okay?”
I look around at them—and the butterflies start in my stomach. I have to do this. I have to tell them the truth.
Sean begins the introductions. Paul—head of the recording studio. Sarah—his assistant, who smiles as she shakes my hand. James—the lead artist manager and Sean’s boss. And finally, Karen—head of legal and finance.
Sean clears his throat, taking control. “Okay, let’s get started, shall we? I’ve explained this will be a lengthy meeting—Chris has a lot to cover—and no one has a problem with that.”
Everyone sits. I’m directed to the head of the table so they can all see me clearly. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind.
Before I can start, James interrupts. “Would you like something to drink? By the way Chris looks, we’re going to be here for a while. Refreshments will help.” Karen makes a quick call. Moments later, a woman enters with pitchers of water and coffee.
I take a sip, clear my throat, and brace myself. “Do you want the full story or the condensed version?”
Sean smiles. “The full story will be better. Why don’t you start from what you briefly explained to me on the phone—how you ended up with Britney and Brie, and the journey that brought you here.” Karen nods in agreement.
James leans forward, steady and calm. “Chris, you look a little confused. Let me explain. Knowing the history of our artists helps us understand how they got to where they are. A compelling narrative connects them to the audience, builds loyalty, and gives longevity to their careers. Everything matters—their life, their struggles, their story. That’s why we need to hear it from you. Does that clear things up?”
I nod slowly, a nervous smile tugging at my face. Okay. Here we go.
Everything started back in 2017, when I came to live in London. I was born here but raised in America. After my accident, I decided to move back. I had nothing left in the States, and I’d always planned to retire here anyway.
When I arrived, I contacted Kris, my best friend, to let him know I’d arrived safely. He told me to come right over. I went to his home that night. I couldn’t wait to see him and the family again—it had been a couple of years. I’d really missed them, especially the twins.
I got out of the Uber and stood there for a moment. Jennifer, Britney, and Brie—short for Breanne—are going to freak. Kris didn’t tell them I’m here and coming over. This is going to be a great night.
When I knocked, the door opened and Kris wrapped me in a hug, whispering, “About time you came to your senses and moved back here. Jennifer and the girls have no idea—there’re going to flip. Show time.” He chuckled.
I walked into the living room and got ambushed. Britney squealed and jumped into my arms. “You’re really here! You’re going to stay, right? Like, live here forever? This isn’t just a visit? You promised me you would.”
I smiled. “Yes, I’m going to stay. I’ve moved here—permanently.”
Brie ran over. “Britney, stop hogging him. He’s mine too, you know.”
Britney stuck her tongue out at her. “I’m not done yet. I’m his favorite.”
I chuckled. “Britney, let me hug Brie, then your mum, and then you can have me back, okay?”
Britney stepped back crossing her arms. “Fine. I guess I can share.”
I pulled Brie into a bear hug. “I missed you so much.” Then whispered, “You’re both my favorites.”
Brie giggled and kissed me on the cheek. “Welcome home.” She let go, still smiling.
“Come here, you.” I grabbed Jennifer and gave her a hug. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”
She blushed. “Stop that. I’m so happy you’re with us again. This is going to get fun.”
Britney stood there tapping her foot. “Okay, you got yours. He’s mine—give him back.” She giggled.
Let the spoiling begin.
I sat on the couch. Britney jumped onto my lap, claiming it, while Brie sat beside me snuggling in. Kris and Jennifer just laughed.
A couple hours later, when we’d finished catching up, it was time for the girls to go to bed. I hugged them and promised I’d be around—that was the only way they’d agree to go.
Kris and I chatted about the old days. He asked if I was still writing. “Yes. Never stopped. I just can’t shake it—a thought hits me and poof—another song.”
He grinned. “You want to get back into it? We’re both retired now, and I miss it. I know Jennifer will approve this time.”
“She will?” I grinned at Jennifer. “She made you stop because she didn’t believe in us,” I teased.
Jennifer gave me a stern look. “It wasn’t my idea. Remember, Kris decided to stop when I got pregnant with the girls. I was all for it—you know that.”
I smiled. “Okay, so it wasn’t your idea. That would mean what Kris said is true, right? You really do love me.”
Kris laughed. “I forgot about that one. Maybe you’re right. Jennifer?”
Jennifer turned red. I laughed. “Kris, we got our answer.”
Kris laughed as he went to get drinks. Jennifer smacked me on the arm. “Your mean. It’s so nice having you back.” She beamed.
Kris handed me a pint. “So what do you think—get back to our roots and really make a go at it this time? The songs you write are really good, and I miss singing.”
I took a drink. “Sure, let’s do it. I have nothing else going on—plus I get to be around my girls all the time again.” I grinned at Jennifer.
Kris chuckled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were yours. But I know I’m the father,” he said proudly.
We heard giggling from the top of the stairs. “Go to bed!” Jennifer yelled.
I listened to the sound of scurrying feet, then silence.
That night it was decided—we were going to start making songs again.
Over the next sixteen-ish months, we started up again. I got back into writing, and we dusted off a few of the old songs. It felt great. It felt right.
When Kris sang, it was magical. He put such feeling and emotion into each song. This captured Britney’s attention. She would sit and listen, sometimes singing quietly with Kris. Brie loved the technical side—she wanted to learn more about production—so we let them join us, showing them the basics of how it was done. They were adorable, and it was great fun for us all.
By early spring, we almost had enough songs for an album. We thought that if we could get to a studio and record a demo album, then come to you and try to make it happen, we might launch our careers—even as two older men. We weren’t sure how it would go, but we were determined and started making plans.
I left that night feeling great. Kris and I were really making our dreams come true.
I was a couple of blocks away when I heard and felt a large explosion. I stopped and looked around. I saw the smoke and headed in that direction. I’m a former fire brigade officer, and my instincts took over.
As I turned the corner, I saw that it was Kris’ home that had blown apart. I ran the best I could. When I got there, all the windows were blown out, and the front door was barely hanging on by one hinge. Dropping my walking stick at the gate, I went up to the house and shoved the door out of the way.
As I entered, I yelled, “Kris! Jennifer! Britney! Brie!” No answer.
Inside, everything was thrown around and smashed apart. I had to make my way over the debris. The smoke was growing, and the glow from the back of the home was lighting up the darkened room.
I yelled again, “Kris! Jennifer! Britney! Brie!” Still nothing.
I made my way through the living room. When I made it to the kitchen, I found the back wall was gone, taking the cooker and sink with it. Half the ceiling had collapsed, and the kitchen cabinets were on fire, flames spreading fast — the source of the smoke. The smoke was thickening as the fire grew. I could hear the house creaking and things falling. I knew this was a death trap and had to search fast. The living room was empty. The kitchen was destroyed.
I made my way to the stairs and started up them, heading to the girls’ room hoping to find them. I desperately yelled, “Britney! Brie!” Nothing.
I yelled again, “Britney! Brie! Answer me!” No answer.
Continuing up the stairs, I started coughing. The smoke got thicker the higher I went. I knew their room was at the front of the house and that was my goal. When I reached the top of the stairs it was blocked. I shoved a broken door aside, forcing my way onto the second floor.
I saw the door to Kris’s room was mostly missing along with the surrounding wall. Debris covered the floor. Kris’s room was crumbling, the bottom half of the back wall was gone, bricks slowly dropping away. A gaping hole had replaced the floor. The roof sagged above it all, barely holding. Only the front of the house remained.
I turned. The girls’ door was gone—just an open hole. Gaps in the wall were growing. I knew this floor was not going to hold for much longer. I rushed into the room over debris and pushed away the wardrobe.
I saw Brie on the floor, unconscious by the wall, her head bleeding, her blonde hair soaked in blood. I made my way to her quickly. She was alive. Then I heard Britney. She was on the floor under Brie’s flipped bed, moaning softly, barely conscious. Thick smoke covered the ceiling and was slowly rolling out the windows.
I grabbed the bed and pulled Britney out. I wrapped both girls in blankets to protect them from the smoke and hoisted them over my shoulders. The smoke was getting heavier now. Breathing was becoming harder. My lungs were burning. I was gasping and wheezing. I knew I was in trouble if I didn’t move fast.
I started down the stairs, walking sideways so I wouldn’t fall, holding the girls tight.
I made it to the bottom of the stairs when a cabinet broke free and crashed down. It startled me.
I pushed myself harder, stumbling on the debris. I made my way back through the house, staggering, coughing, choking. I focused on the light where the front door used to be. My only way out.
Once outside, I staggered to the front gate before my legs gave out. I dropped to my knees, coughing hard, and set the girls down. I pulled the blankets off them. They were breathing. They were still alive.
Britney was semi-conscious and crying softly. Brie was in bad shape, still unconscious. Her bleeding hadn’t stopped. I pressed my hand to the injury, applying pressure. “Come on Brie, stay with me.”
Neighbors rushed over to help, crowding us. Police arrived followed by ambulances and the fire brigade. I heard people in the crowd explaining what I had done. The paramedics rushed over and took over care of Brie.
I kept coughing—my throat raw. Someone handed me a bottle of water. I took a swallow, then another drink. I rinsed and spat it out, clearing the soot from my mouth.
The back half of the house suddenly collapsed, taking the roof with it. I turned around quickly at the sound. The force of it startled me.
That’s when it hit me—we had just barely escaped. If we were still inside, we’d be dead.
Then I realized my best friend and his wife were gone. The girls’ parents had been killed.
A paramedic rushed past toward Britney—
—and she let out an ear-piercing scream.
I whipped around toward her. She started yelling, “Get away! Stop! Don’t touch me!”
She was sitting up, frantically backing away. I saw the terror in her eyes. She panicked, got up, and ran.
Several people tried to chase her, but she disappeared through hedges.
The search for Britney began.
At the same time, Brie was being rushed into an ambulance. They said she was starting to go critical. But I had to find Britney.
“Take her now,” I croaked. “I’ll find her sister and meet you there.”
“Sir, you need to get to the hospital—you’ve got severe smoke inhalation,” a paramedic said.
I shook my head. “I need to find Britney. Now.”
I looked around and found my walking stick nearby. I grabbed it and stood. I walked down the road, trying to think of where she would go. I started to panic. Then it hit me—the park. The swans. Her favorite spot.
Breathing grew harder, the coughing doubling me over, forcing me to stop. I pushed myself forward, staggering. Britney needs me.
I entered the park, heading for the pond. I tried calling out her name but ended up coughing.
After checking all their hide-and-seek spots, I finally saw her filthy bare foot sticking out from under a bush. I climbed over the short fence, pushed the bushes apart.
She was curled in a tight fetal position, passed out beside the swans’ nest.
I saw her breathing and reached for her. When I touched her, she startled awake, screamed, “Leave me alone!”
She tried to claw her way deeper into the bushes.
“Hey little one, it’s me,” I said softly.
She looked up and started to cry. She launched herself at me, wrapping her arms and legs around me in a death grip. I held her tight with one arm and lifted her out of the bushes, standing up.
With her still clinging to me, I called for the ambulance—I knew I couldn’t make it back on my own.
I struggled to carry her back over to the fence. I climbed over. When we got to the road, I leaned against a tree, coughing. We waited. The ambulance arrived quickly. They’d been searching too.
A paramedic approached, but when he tried to take Britney, she tightened her grip and started shaking severely. She was terrified.
“Back off—you’re scaring her!” I shouted.
With my arm around her, I whispered, “I got you, little one. I’m here. You’re safe. I got you.”
She relaxed. The shaking slowed.
I walked to the ambulance slowly and climbed in with her. Oxygen was put on me right away. We were rushed to the hospital.
At the hospital, we were taken straight into A&E. I carried Britney, struggling, coughing. My breathing was worse—I barely made it.
They put us on a bed next to Brie’s bed. That calmed Britney a little. They examined her the best they could and decided sedation was needed to allow them to get a full exam. I agreed.
Once she was out, I stood up with her still wrapped around me. I gently peeled her off and placed her on the bed. Her shirt and shorts were ripped and torn.
I started coughing uncontrollably, collapsing on the floor, blacking out.
I woke up in the hospital bed, my oxygen mask gone. Britney was laying by my side in a hospital gown, my arm around her. She was holding on tightly with both hands.
Britney was not badly injured that I noticed. Her face and arms had minor cuts and scratches, but looked okay. Brie was next to me still unconscious, connected to machines.
A nurse came in and saw that I was awake and smiled. She explained, "Britney had woken up, she saw you and climbed into the bed, she pulled you arm around herself. We tried to break her grip so we could get her back to her bed so you could rest. But she fought us and we gave up. She's a really strong one. In the end, the doctor decided to just let her stay with you — her father. It kept her calm."
My throat was dry and raw, I couldn’t speak. I drank some water. Then I was able to tell her, “No—I was their uncle. Their father was my brother.”
The nurse smiled. “It’s good they have someone they know and care about.”
I nodded. "How's Brie doing? I know from experience that she wasn't doing to good."
The nurse looked over at Brie. "She’s a fighter. When she came in, we stabilized her quickly. She had a subdural hematoma putting too much pressure on her brain. The doctor performed a burr hole to drain it, and that relieved the pressure. After that, she stabilized, and now she’s responding to stimuli. The tests all look good."
I smiled relieved. "How's this little one doing?" I asked.
The nurse smiled. "She refuses to talk. But compared to her sister, she’s doing remarkably well. From what we heard, you found them in the same room — she got lucky. Just cuts, bumps, and bruises. She’ll be fine physically. But you might want to have her seen by a psychologist. She’s had two severe panic attacks already — at the scene and here. Just a suggestion." She let left the room smiling.
I reached over and moved her disheveled hair from her face. She startled awake.
She looked at me and started crying. I pulled her close. “Hey little one, I’m here. I got you. You’re safe.”
She grabbed my shirt, clenching it in her fist, holding on tight and refusing to let go.
About an hour later Britney was calm snuggling happily with me when the doctor came in.
I smiled "So when can I get out of here?" I asked.
He chuckled. "Former fire brigade make the worst patients," he said shaking his head.
I smiled. "I thought it was doctors who made the worst ones."
He grinned. "Okay fair point, I guess we both are. So after looking over your tests. Your lung function is a bit low, and your COPD’s been aggravated. But your oxygen levels are good, so I see no reason to keep you here."
I grinned. "And my little one here?"
“She’s good to go with you. We’ve got some clothes for her as well.” He looked at Brie’s chart. “Brie will need to stay a few more days. I want to be sure she’s awake and responding. We also need to run a few more tests, and we can only do that once she’s conscious. If everything looks good, she can go home.”
I nodded. "We will be with her every moment we can. They both need it."
The doctor nodded, smiled and left. We were discharged within a hour.
A few days later, Brie was discharged from the hospital. The three of us went home.
The police and fire brigade called. They’d found no trace of Kris or Jennifer. They were likely right above the blast. There was nothing left to bury.
The cause of the explosion was a gas leak beneath the kitchen, in a walled-off crawl space—hidden away so no one could smell it. The cooker was directly above; it was what ignited the gas.
We held a private ceremony for Kris and Jennifer—loving parents, my beloved friends. That was the last time we ever went to the site of the house.
Back at my small one-bedroom flat, we had to figure things out.
The girls used my bed at first. I slept in my desk chair, then we rearranged the flat and turned the living room into my bedroom and work area. We moved my bed and dresser in, and I bought them new beds with bedding they picked out. The delivery came that evening.
We made their room girly and comfortable. We shopped for clothing and all the essential things they needed—and a stuffed animal Britney fell in love with.
They had lost everything. I couldn’t let them suffer anymore. They needed it all.
I didn’t know it then, but saving them that night was only the beginning.
