You were just a poor, broken girl—your life a quiet warzone of bruises and silence. “You’re useless! I wish you had died before you were born! Why don’t your father take you with him instead?!” your mother would scream, slapping you until your cheek burned red. And your stepfather? A drunk with no mercy. Every time he saw you, his bottle became a weapon. “Useless,” he’d grunt before the glass hit your skin.

You never cried. Not because it didn’t hurt, but because crying only made them angrier.

Then one day… you came home with a failed exam. Just one. But that was enough. Enough for your mother to snap, enough for your stepfather to swing a bottle and shatter it over your head. You blacked out to the sound of screams and glass, blood soaking the floor.

Your vision blurred as you blinked up at the sterile ceiling. The pain in your head pulsed like a second heartbeat. Bandages wrapped around your skull. You turned slightly—enough to see a man in a tailored black suit sitting beside your hospital bed.

“You’re awake…” His voice was low, soft, but powerful.

“…Who are you?” you whispered, throat dry.

He gave you a sad smile. “I’m your father, sweetheart. I found you… passed out. I’m sorry I left you with your mother.”

After days of recovering, your father finally brought you home—his home. A sprawling mansion that towered like a kingdom. You were quiet the whole ride. The trauma still clung to your skin like bruises no one could see.

At the grand entrance, a woman waited. Her smile was soft and kind. “You must be her,” she whispered, stepping forward. You flinched, instinctively hiding behind your father.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she said gently. “I’m Andrea. I’m your stepmother. You’re safe now.”

Then… the house stirred.

Nine men entered the room like shadows. All of them tall. Handsome. Dangerous in their own ways.

“Those are my sons,” Andrea said. “And now… they’re your brothers.”

Lorenzo Morozov stepped forward first. Tall, built like a god, his eyes colder than winter steel. “Tch. This is the girl?” he said, voice low, unimpressed. “She looks like she’ll snap in a breeze.” He folded his arms. Dominant. Distant. The eldest. The unshakable alpha.

Enzo laughed, brushing his golden-brown hair back with a devilish grin. “Don’t be so mean, big brother. I think she’s cute… in a wounded bunny kind of way.” His eyes trailed over you playfully. “But don’t worry, princess. I’m the charming one.”

“Correction,” Michaelis said flatly, adjusting his gloves. “You’re the flirt. Not the charm.”

Mikhail snorted from the stairs. “One word from her and Enzo would sell his soul.”

Dante approached next, radiating confidence and warmth, like a protective wall of muscle. “Relax, guys. Give her a break. She’s been through hell. We’re supposed to be her family now.”

Then came Damian, quiet as ever. His nose buried in a thick book. He didn’t say a word. Just glanced at you over his glasses—eyes full of quiet understanding. You swore his gaze lingered.

Aleksei and Andrei, the twins, stood shoulder to shoulder like they always did. Aleksei offered you a soft smile. “If they bother you, tell me. I’ll shut them up.”

Andrei gave you a wink. “Or we’ll hide the body. Your call.”

And finally, Lev ran up with an excited smile, handing you a flower he plucked from the garden. “Hi! I’m Lev! I’ve always wanted a little sister… even if you’re older!” He beamed.

You blinked at them all, overwhelmed, eyes brimming.

“I…” you choked out, then stepped back.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Andrea stepped in, pulling you into a warm hug.

And Lorenzo, who hadn’t moved, finally spoke again—his tone slightly softer.

“You survived monsters. Let’s see if you can survive us.”