My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me?

Serena:The sky wept for her.Gray clouds hung low over the cemetery, bloated with the kind of grief that didn't make a sound—just pressed heavily against your skin until you couldn't breathe. The rain hadn't started, not yet. But the air was swollen with the threat of it. Like something was holding its breath.Like me.I stood alone beside the casket, black veil slipping in the wind, fists clenched around the stems of white lilies. They cut into my palms, but I welcomed the sting. It was real.Unlike the whispers behind me."Who even is she?""Her daughter. From that affair.""Why would he send a car for her?"He. Vincenzo Romano.Mafia king. Ruthless, untouchable. The man my mother gave everything to… including her life. I hated him. I'd never even seen his face.Until now.A black limousine pulled up at the edge of the cemetery, doors opening with smooth finality. I felt it before I saw it—the shift in energy, the subtle tightening of the mourners' mouths. Like wolves scenting a st

Nico:She was everywhere.Serena Vale haunted this house like a ghost who hadn’t realized she died.The scent of her shampoo clung to the stair railings. Her laugh echoed faintly down the west wing. And her eyes—sharp, defiant, always watching—carved through me more effectively than any blade I’d ever taken to the ribs.She was the daughter of my father’s shame. The girl no one spoke of until it was too late to send her back.And she was mine.In ways, I wasn’t allowed to say.In ways, I hated myself for craving.I was halfway down the hall when I heard Nico.He wasn’t shouting.That was worse.His voice dipped when he was serious—when he was dangerous. And the tone he used in that basement gym? That voice belonged to a man moments from devouring something beautiful.I should have turned around.Let him touch her. Let her push him away. Let whatever happened happen.But I didn’t.I opened the door.And saw him—standing close, hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin like he owne

Serena: I couldn't sleep tonight. The walls still held the echo of their fists and my inability to understand the problem. My name still tasted like violence in their mouths, and damn it, theirs tasted like starlight on mine. And Luca… He hadn't come upstairs. Not until now. I heard his knock just after three a.m.—a soft, calculated sound. It was almost as if he were giving me the chance to say no. I didn't, I couldn't. Then he entered like the shadows belonged to him. It was like he never needed permission, only the silence in the room, and mine wrapped around him like a shroud. He stood by the door for a moment soaked in moonlight, with his jaw bruised and his knuckles raw. He looked like a war trying to be contained. I should've told him to leave. I should've locked the door hours ago. But I didn't do either, now I couldnt bring myself to. Instead, I said, "You bleed for me too easily, darling." shooting him a smirk. He laughed under his breath. "You th

Serena I waited until dusk. Not because I was afraid. Because I wanted all three of them in the same room. There’s power in choosing your moment. In knowing when to walk into the fire—not to survive it, but to become it. That’s what I’d learned lately. Pain is a kind of teacher. Silence, too. But I was done being quiet. Luca paced the hallway, his jaw clenched, frustration rolling off him in waves. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders tight, like he’d already decided he didn’t want to hear what I had to say. Matteo sat in the study, sketchbook closed for once, his fingers twitching where they rested on his knee. The man couldn’t stand stillness for long. A glass of whiskey sat beside him, untouched, the amber catching firelight. He hadn’t sipped it once. That, more than anything, told me he was already bracing for something. Nico was the quietest. Leaning against the wall beside the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. He watched the shadows dan

Serena:Nico was the first to speak.“You took his offer,” he said flatly, eyes pinned to the gun like it might go off on its own.“No,” I replied. “I took the weight of it. There’s a difference.”Matteo pushed off the counter, slow and deliberate. “You don’t carry something like that unless you’re planning to use it.”“Maybe I am.”Luca was already pacing. “We told you not to go alone.”“No,” I said, stepping forward, “you warned me not to. I made my choice.”He turned on me, jaw clenched, fury dancing in the tight line of his shoulders. “And what if he’d killed you?”“Then at least I would’ve died on my feet. Not like some well-kept pet you let out only when you’re bored.”The silence that followed cracked like thunder.Nico stood now, slow and graceful as a knife being drawn.“I don’t like what he put in your head,” he said quietly, like the calm before a firestorm.“He didn’t put anything in it,” I shot back. “He just confirmed what I already knew.”“Which is?”“That you don’t tru