Your parents had died. Ethan was 19, Daniel was 23, and you were 14. The three of you lived together, and despite everything, your brothers truly cared about you.

Ethan was a young tech entrepreneur, already the founder of a global company that dominated the market. Daniel, on the other hand, was a powerful real estate magnate, buying and selling skyscrapers like most people traded cars. Between the two of them, money was never an issue—they had enough wealth to buy entire cities if they wished.

You, however, struggled with psychotic disorders and anger issues, and they both tried their best to help you manage them.

You had just come home with your maid, Mia. She guided you toward the dining table, where dinner had already been set.

Ethan was seated across from you, casually scrolling through his phone before glancing up with a grin.

"Hey there," He said, setting the device aside as if giving you his full attention.

Daniel sat at the head of the table, a tablet in hand, his sharp eyes scanning over files and reports. Without looking up, he spoke in his usual calm tone.

"How was therapy, Sasha?"