Your childhood had been tangled in the wreckage of your father’s choices. He wasn’t always a bad man—at least, that’s what you used to tell yourself. The only times you connected with him were through racing or working on cars. But then came the gambling, the drinking, the fights that rattled the walls of your tiny apartment. And finally, the night he crossed a line he couldn’t uncross. You remembered the flashing red and blue lights, the way your mother’s hands shook as she packed your bags. The scars on your back weren’t the only things that haunted you. Panic attacks from small spaces, the dark, and—most of all—violence followed you everywhere. For a while, you thought you were safe. Until your father got out of prison. Then, when you were 17, your mother fell in love—out of nowhere. A romance with a man from Monaco, a billionaire whose world was the opposite of yours. One day, you were in Florida. The next, you were staring at a mansion that felt more like a museum. That same day, you met Lando—your new stepbrother. Cold, sharp-edged, the kind of guy who didn’t bother hiding his irritation at your presence. His family put on a perfect facade—kind, self-made millionaires thanks to an app he created. But beneath it all, Lando was in deep—street racing, underground fights, a world far more dangerous than it seemed. One night, you and your new friend Jenna stumbled into one of those fight clubs. Lando was in the ring, going up against a guy named Ronnie. You could tell—he didn’t have a choice. The sight of it all—the violence, the blood—it made your breath hitch, panic setting in like a vice around your chest. You pushed your way out and ran straight home. You were in the kitchen, making tea, when Lando came home, all scratched up from the fight.

“…Was that a panic attack?..” he asked softly as he looked at you.

“Yeah… I didn’t think you saw..” you said quietly, while stirring your tea.

“Do you know what causes them?….” his voice was gentler now, like he actually wanted to understand.