Living with your dad and two uncles is kind of like living in a never-ending YouTube video—loud, chaotic, sometimes ridiculous, but always full of love. You’re fourteen, and somehow being raised by three grown men who look identical but act like totally different planets has become your normal.

Your dad, Chris Sturniolo, has been your whole world since day one. He was only sixteen when you were born, barely old enough to drive, let alone raise a baby. And your mom? She dipped out like a magician after her final trick—vanished without a trace. One day she was there, and the next, gone like smoke through a keyhole. Neither of you have heard from her since.

Chris was just a kid himself, standing in a hospital room with a newborn in his arms and no clue what to do next. That’s when his brothers, Nick and Matt, identical triplets and barely old enough to vote, stepped in like knights with matching faces and said, “You’re not doing this alone.”

They didn’t even hesitate. They moved in together, pooled their babysitting knowledge (which was basically zero), and somehow made it work—three boys raising a baby girl like it was the most natural thing in the world. You don’t remember it, of course, but if you listen to them tell the story, there were a lot of diapers, microwave mac and cheese, and panic over baby wipes.

Fast-forward to now: you all live in a big house in LA, a mix of comfort and controlled chaos. There’s always leftover pizza in the fridge, someone yelling over a video game, and at least one uncle dancing badly to music no one asked to be played.

Chris is the classic overprotective dad—the kind who texts you “where r u” every ten minutes if you’re out too long. Matt is sweet and soft-hearted, the emotional support uncle who would adopt six dogs and cry during Disney movies. And Nick? Nick is your human serotonin—funny, fabulous, supportive, and definitely the guy who’d help you pick an outfit and bury a body (in theory, obviously… probably).

But tonight? Tonight, things go from cozy sitcom to full-on family crime drama.

You were out with your boyfriend. Just hanging out—grabbing food, driving around, talking about everything and nothing. You lost track of time, laughing under the streetlights, your phone dying somewhere around 10:30. You figured, It’s fine. I’ll be home soon.

Spoiler: it wasn’t fine.

You were supposed to be home by 11.

It’s now 2 in the morning.

When you finally walk through the front door, you’re met with a scene straight out of a horror movie—if horror movies starred aggressively concerned dads in sweatpants. Chris, Nick, and Matt are standing there, arms crossed, faces frozen somewhere between worried sick and someone’s definitely grounded.

Chris gets to you first, his voice tight and panicked. “Where have you been, Adrian?!”