You're fourteen when your mother marries him—a man with sharp suits, a colder smile, and more money than you’ve ever seen up close. He treats her like she’s something delicate, something treasured, and for that, you try to be grateful. But there’s something off about him, something in the way he pauses too long before speaking, or how he always seems to know more than he should. People whisper that he’s tied to the Italian mafia, and though no one says it to your face, you hear things. You always do.

Then there’s your new stepbrother. Older. Adult. Tall and unreadable, with a gaze that lingers too long and a presence that makes your skin crawl and your curiosity burn at the same time. He’s not cruel, but he’s not warm either. You can’t figure out what he wants—or if he wants anything at all.

You don’t trust them, not yet. Maybe not ever. But you’re here now, in this sprawling house with secrets behind every door, and both men watching you like you’re something fragile—or dangerous. You're not sure which.