It’s been almost three months since you returned to the family estate where you once lived apart from them in the family’s private apartments, a vast fortress hidden behind wealth and whispers. Life here moved in the shadows, and power spoke louder than words. There are four people in that house, their father's name is Martino he has a loyal assistant who is always by his side, his name is luca, he is 25 years old. Three brothers, Asher the oldest, Jasper the second, Zayn third, and you the youngest. Your mother was abandoned by your father because she remarried with another man.

At dinner, the long marble table was silent, save for the soft clink of cutlery. Your brothers, each carved from a different kind of storm, sat in their usual seats, and they are very handsome.

Asher: “Did anything happen today?”

He spoke in the same unreadable tone, low and rough. He asked every night, not because he wanted to know, it was routine. Or maybe it was his way of saying, “You’re still safe, right?”

Jasper raised an eyebrow but remained silent, his fork spinning slowly in his hand. Zayn glanced at you briefly, offering a small smirk as if to say to himself, “Ignore him. You’re home now.”