Chapter 2

As soon as he left the room, I turned to Mom, my voice a desperate whisper. "I saw one of your boyfriend's sons... without clothes."

"What?" Mom's eyes widened in shock. "How the hell did y--"

Before she could respond, we heard voices in the foyer. Mom grabbed my hand, squeezing it painfully. "Remember what I told you in the car. Don't get close to any of them."

Antonio returned, followed by a young man with amber eyes that I recognized immediately. My blood turned to ice.

"This is my youngest son, Salvatore," Antonio began.

"That's him!" I blurted out, pointing accusingly. "He's the one who bullied me at school today!"

Salvatore's eyes widened with recognition, then narrowed with contempt. "What is she doing here?"

Antonio's expression hardened. "What is she talking about, Salvatore?"

I clutched my backpack straps tighter as Franco approached my locker, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. The same smirk that used to make me feel safe when we were kids, before everything changed.

"Principessa," he called out, leaning against the lockers with practiced ease. His expensive dark leather jacket hugged his shoulders perfectly, the red silk shirt underneath catching the fluorescent lights.

I forced myself to look away from the chain and focus on his face. "Franco, I—"

"Come on! Say yes!" His voice carried across the hallway, drawing attention from other students. "Don't you want to be dating one of the popular guy on the first day of school?"

My stomach twisted. First day of senior year, and I already felt like I was drowning. Being homeschooled for so long meant I had no idea how to navigate this social maze. Franco was the only familiar face in this sea of strangers, the only connection to my past that felt real.

I thought about how good it would feel to have someone by my side, helping me adjust. We used to be so close when we were little. Maybe this was his way of bringing me back into his world.

"I do." The words tumbled out before I could second-guess myself.

I stepped forward, arms opening for what I hoped would be our first hug in years. My heart hammered against my ribs as I moved closer, thinking maybe—just maybe—this could be the start of something good.

Franco's hands slammed into my chest.

The push sent me crashing to the ground, my knees hitting the cold linoleum with a sickening crack. Before I could even process what happened, ice-cold water cascaded from above, soaking through my clothes and shocking the breath from my lungs.

The hallway erupted in cheers and laughter.

I sat there, shivering and humiliated, water dripping from my hair into my eyes. Through the blur, I could see Franco still laughing, his head thrown back like this was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

"Franco," I whispered, but my voice was lost in the chaos around us.

This couldn't be happening. The boy who used to share his lunch with me, who taught me how to skip stones by the river—he'd planned this. All of it.

"That's how you treat a bitch."

A new voice cut through the noise, deeper and more commanding than Franco's. I looked up to see another boy stepping out from behind Franco—taller, broader, with an aura that made everyone else seem to shrink back.

"What are you staring at, poor girl?" His amber eyes burned into mine as he towered over me.

Salvatore. I'd heard whispers about him in the halls, seen the way other students parted like the Red Sea when he walked by. Franco's friend. Of course.

"She actually thought Franco would date someone like her," a girl's voice tittered from somewhere in the crowd.

I pressed my hands to my face, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. The water from my soaked clothes was already forming a puddle beneath me.

"Bullying turned her panties wet," another voice called out, and I felt my cheeks burn with shame.

"I bet she loves riding dicks," someone else added, and the laughter grew louder.

Salvatore crouched down beside me, bringing his face level with mine. "Aww! Look at her. Poor little girl is crying." His voice was mockingly sweet.

"All right! Everyone! School's out. Didn't you hear the bell ring?"

A teacher's voice finally broke through the spectacle, and I watched through my tears as students began to disperse. But the teacher didn't ask if I was okay. Didn't offer to help. Just stood there until the crowd thinned out.

I scrambled to my feet and ran.

My wet sneakers squeaked against the floor as I bolted for the exit, pushing past stragglers who were still snickering about what they'd witnessed. The afternoon air hit my soaked skin like a slap, but I didn't stop running until I saw Mom's familiar car parked in the distance.

I yanked open the passenger door and collapsed into the seat, finally letting the tears fall freely.

"What happened to you? Why are you soaking wet?" Mom's voice was sharp with concern as she took in my appearance.

"They bullied me," I sobbed, wrapping my arms around myself. "Franco laughed at me."

I couldn't bring myself to tell her about our feelings. She'd never approved of my connection to anyone involved with those families anyway.

"No wonder his mother was so arrogant on the phone today," Mom muttered, starting the engine. "I should have known they didn't want us bothering them anymore." She glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Well, you don't have to worry about any of that now."

"She's lying," Salvatore spat. "I don't even know her."

I turned to Mom for support. "It was him, Mom. He called me 'poor girl from the Bronx' and laughed when Franco pushed me."

Mom's grip on my hand tightened as she faced Antonio. "Your son bullied my daughter. He touched her inappropriately and told her she doesn't belong at that school."

"I never touched her!" Salvatore protested, his face reddening. "They're lying, Dad!"

Antonio's expression turned thunderous. Without warning, he stepped forward and slapped Salvatore hard across the face.

Salvatore stumbled backward, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he held his reddening cheek.

"Dad!" A new voice entered the fray as another young man rushed into the room. With a jolt, I recognized the deep blue eyes of the man I'd walked in on earlier. Now fully dressed in dark jeans and a button-down shirt, he positioned himself protectively in front of Salvatore.

"Get out of the way, Matteo," Antonio growled. "This is between me and your brother."

"You're taking the word of these Bronx nobodies over your own son?" Salvatore's voice cracked with emotion.

Antonio's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "She is not a nobody. She will be your stepsister, and you will show her respect."

The room fell silent. Matteo's eyes widened as they shifted between his father and me, while Salvatore looked like he might be sick.