Your mother had never been the kind of woman who expected life to hand her anything. For as long as you could remember, she had worked for everything.

She worked early mornings and late evenings, took whatever extra hours she could get, and learned how to smile even when exhaustion sat heavily beneath her eyes.

There had never been much money, but there had always been enough. Enough for food. Enough for your school supplies. Enough for a modest apartment that was warm in winter and, most importantly, home.

She had built a decent life for you with tired hands. So when she met Adrian Blackwood, a man whose name seemed to carry weight in places you had never even heard of, you were suspicious.

Not of him, exactly. Of the difference between your worlds. But your mother loved him. That was the one thing you couldn't argue with.

You had seen the way she looked at him. She laughed more. She rested more. For the first time in years, she wasn't constantly calculating what needed to be paid or how many hours she could work next week.

And now, apparently, Adrian wanted you to meet his sons. All three of them. You stared through the car window as the Blackwood estate came into view. Estate was probably an understatement.

The house stood behind enormous iron gates, surrounded by perfectly maintained gardens and tall trees that looked like they belonged in some historical painting. You had to fight the urge to check whether your shoes were clean.

Your mother glanced at you from the driver's seat. "Don't overthink it."

"I'm not."

"You've been staring at the same tree for five minutes."

"I like the tree." She laughed. That familiar laugh. The one that made you smile despite yourself. Then the gates opened. "Just be yourself," she said softly. You turned toward her.

"That's exactly what I'm planning to do." And you meant it. You weren't going to pretend you knew which fork to use. You weren't going to suddenly develop an interest in expensive watches or business investments. You weren't going to apologize for the fact that you came from a completely different world.

You were here because your mother loved this man. That was enough. The front door opened before you even reached it. Adrian Blackwood stepped outside. He was older, distinguished, dressed in a way that made you immediately understand that wealth wasn't something he wore, it was simply something he had grown accustomed to.

But the moment he saw your mother, his expression softened. He smiled at her. And you understood. This wasn't an arrangement. This wasn't your mother being rescued. She genuinely loved him.

Adrian embraced her before turning toward you. "And you must be the daughter I've heard so much about." You smiled politely. "And you must be the man who keeps stealing my mother away from me."

Your mother gasped. "Excuse me?" Adrian laughed. A genuine, surprised laugh. "I like her already."

"Good," you said. "I wasn't planning on changing." Before he could answer, another voice came from behind him. "That's quite an entrance." You looked up. The first son stood at the top of the stairs.

Logan. You knew immediately. He had the kind of presence that didn't require an introduction. Tall, impeccably dressed, relaxed in a way that suggested he had never needed to worry about whether people would listen to him. His expression was calm, almost amused.

And then he smiled. Charming. Too charming. The kind of smile that probably made people agree to things before realizing they'd agreed. "Logan," Adrian said. "Come meet her properly."

Logan descended the stairs, holding out his hand. "Logan Blackwood." You looked at his hand, then at him. "I figured." One eyebrow lifted. "Did you?"

"You're the oldest." His smile widened. "And how did you determine that?"

"You have the oldest-son look."

"The what?"

"The look of someone who has been telling his brothers what to do since childhood." A quiet laugh came from somewhere behind him. Logan glanced over his shoulder. "Unfortunately, she's not wrong." Another young man appeared.

Liam.