365 Nights, Two Stepbrothers, One Me.

Lila Sinclair's POV

I stood in front of the gates of the Blackwood mansion with my suitcase beside me, looking like a rejected airport passenger who had taken a wrong turn into rich people's territory.

The gates were tall black iron, twisted into fancy patterns that probably cost more than my entire university education.

Then there was the mansion itself.

Good Lord.

The place rose in the distance like something built for kings, billionaires, or people who had never worried about transport fare a day in their lives.

It was beautiful. It was intimidating. It was the kind of house where you’d be scared to sneeze too loudly.

For a second, I just stood there, fingers curling around the strap of my bag, wondering how the hell my life had flipped this fast.

Just last week, I was in a tiny one-room apartment, celebrating the fact that I had finally graduated college with the certificate my mother had killed herself working for me to have. And now, she was gone.

No...not gone. Imprisoned.

A life sentence. Murder and theft. Words so heavy they didn’t even sound like her. But the government didn’t care about explanations. They didn’t care that my mother, my best friend, had only done what she did to make sure I had the kind of life she never could. They only cared about punishment.

So here I was, standing in front of the mansion of her ex-lover. Mr. Blackwood. A man I’d never met in my life, but who somehow agreed to take me in, adopt me, and drag me across borders into a world I never asked for.

I was still drowning in those thoughts when the sleek black car rolled up the driveway and stopped in front of me. The door opened and Mr. Blackwood himself stepped out, tall and sharp in his gray suit, his salt and pepper hair slicked back like he’d just walked out of a magazine. He didn’t look like someone my mom would’ve once loved. He looked… untouchable.

“Lila,” he said warmly, his deep voice pulling me out of my daze. He walked over and rested a hand lightly on my shoulder. “Look at who's grown big," he teased and gave out a calm smile. "You’ll be fine here. I promise.”

Fine. The word stung. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had been fine.

I nodded anyway, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you, sir, my mum said a lot about you and I appreciate your kind heart.”

"Sir? feel totally free to call me Dad please, I would kill to have a girl child." he laughed as I joined in.

The servants came forward, lifting my bags with a kind of speed and grace that almost made me feel invisible. As we started walking up the driveway, I blurted out the question that had been buzzing in my head all day.

“Um… earlier with the lawyer,” I asked softly. “What exactly did he mean about my adoption being temporary?”

Mr. Blackwood sighed, as though he’d been expecting me to ask. “They’ll process the papers for just one year. After that, you’ll either need to give up your citizenship certificate through birth or… marriage.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Marriage?” My voice cracked on the word.

He turned, his expression calm, almost too calm. “Yes. By then, you’ll need to either marry here or find another legal route. It’s the simplest solution.”

I blinked at him. “I’m 23 Sir...Dad... I don’t even know how to be someone’s wife.”

For the first time, he smiled, a small amused twitch of his lips. “You’ll figure it out, My princess. There are plenty of handsome men in the city. Besides, I promised your mother I’d keep you safe. You’re young, you have options. Take your time. Consider my sons also," he paused and winked at me. "Marry for the certificate, then later… follow your heart. Divorce if you must.”

My mouth fell open. “You’re joking, right? Omg, I can't even access what's going on right now.”

“I never joke,” he said smoothly. “But I do keep my promises.” He patted my shoulder again before leading me toward the doors. “Don’t worry. My sons are a catch. Every girl in this city wants them, and I'm here for you, not as a helper but as a Dad... I'm here to fill up every space.”

I frowned, heat rising in my chest. Did I look like the type of girl who gets dolled up with words of affirmation ?

***

The giant oak doors opened, and before I could even roll my eyes properly, the loud chorus of voices and clapping filled my ears. “WELCOME, LILA SINCLAIR!”

The grand entryway was decorated like something out of a fairytale. Silver and purple balloons floated to the ceiling. And right in the center, across the wall, in bold golden letters, was written: Welcome to the Blackwood Mansion, Lila Sinclair.

My jaw dropped. “Oh my God…”

The maids and butlers lined up in neat rows, clapping and smiling as if I was some sort of princess walking into her coronation. Someone even rolled out a small cake, complete with candles.

I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “This feels like my birthday party. I....i...speechless.”

“Then make a wish,” one of the maids encouraged.

I blew out the candles, my heart swelling with a mixture of confusion and warmth I didn’t want to admit to. For a second, it almost felt like maybe, just maybe, things could be okay.

"Dad, can I walk around?" I asked, not sure if those words came out appropriately.

"Feel free, Princess. This is your mansion." he said aloud patting my shoulders.

I smiled and nodded walking up the stairs as one of the younger maids, Clara, offered to show me to my room.

The first door we passed had a polished gold plaque: Damien Blackwood Hall.

The second one: Ethan Blackwood Hall.

I arched a brow. “Do they really need their names on their doors?"

Clara scratched her head nervously. “Well, technically… this next one is yours.” She stopped in front of the door right between theirs.

I frowned. “Wait. My room is between their rooms?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “There are only three master bedrooms on this floor. It made sense.”

Made sense to who? Still, she pushed open the door and stepped aside for me to walk in.

I froze.

The room was drenched in shades of purple, walls painted lavender, curtains a deep royal violet, and even the duvet cover a soft lilac.

On the desk sat a neat stack of books I loved, my favorite snacks lined up as if someone had been stalking my grocery lists.

And then I saw it, on the wall above the bed, a huge poster of Lil Tjay, my ultimate celebrity crush.

I actually screamed in excitement. “Oh my God, oh my God! Lil fucking Tjayyyyy..how did you guys know, y'all been stalking me?!”

Clara giggled. “We got everything from your mother. She told us about all your favorites.”

I sat on the bed, hugging one of the fluffy pillows. My chest tightened. For a moment, I could almost hear my mom’s voice in the room, teasing me about being dramatic over a celebrity.

“Are… are the sons here?” I asked, trying to shake off the ache.

“No, miss...Sir Damien is away at a business event, and Sir Ethan returns tomorrow. You’ll meet them soon enough.”

Soon enough. My stomach twisted.

Clara excused herself, and I flopped back on the bed, staring at the chandelier above. My nerves were screaming, so I did what I always did...I practiced.

“Okay,” I muttered, sitting up. “Imagine Ethan is hot. Too hot to handle. What do I say? Um… ‘Hey, Ethan.’” I cringed at my own voice. “No, too casual. Rich people don’t use hey, do they? They probably say things like… greetings.” I groaned. “Ugh. I sound like a butler.”

With a dramatic sigh, I grabbed my phone and Facetime JoJo.

He popped onto the screen instantly, his dyed-pink bangs falling into his eyes. “Girl! Are you on the boys’ bed already?”

I gasped. “JoJo! What the hell!!! seven hours ago I was on a flight, now you think I’m in somebody’s sheets? You have the IQ of a teaspoon.”

He cackled. “I’m just saying. Mansion. Rich boys. One plus one equals..”

“Equals shut up,” I cut in, rolling my eyes but smiling.

We laughed, and I started spilling everything about the mansion, the ridiculous welcome party, the insane marriage talk. “And now I’m low-key panicking,” I admitted. “What if they’re too hot and arrogant? What if I embarrass myself? What if they hate me? What if i look too um...too poor, local huhh.”

JoJo leaned closer to the screen. “Girl, listen. You are gorgeous, I mean fucking gorgeous.. all you gotta do is some makeover, roll your hair, wear something feminine for once and sway those bubbly ass like your mama taught ya.”

I groaned. “You know I can’t even roll my hair.”

“That’s why you got maids now. Use them!”

Before I could clap back, I heard footsteps. “JoJo, I gotta go.” I hung up quickly.

The door opened and Clara, the maid I clearly got fond of, entered with armfuls of shopping bags.

“Um, wrong room?” I said, pointing.

She smiled. “No, miss. These are yours. New clothes, shoes, accessories. Everything for your new lifestyle.”

I blinked. “My new… what? what the heck, know nothing about fashion, I'm a regular girl cmon.”

She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry. You’ll learn. I’ve been assigned as your personal maid. I’ll help you with everything. Now go freshen up, and I’ll make you perfect for your new world.”

My jaw dropped. Perfect for my new world. The words sent shivers down my spine.

The second she left, I collapsed back on the bed, buried my face in the pillow, and screamed.

“you are head bow cooked, Lila!”