Mitch
Mathilde Colette has spent her whole life being the ordinary one. Then her mother marries into the Ashfords, and overnight she gains a mansion, a trust fund she'll never touch, and three new stepbrothers who are, infuriatingly, identical down to the way they raise an eyebrow when they're about to ruin her.
Except they're not identical at all, not once you know them.
Caspian is the eldest by four minutes and never lets anyone forget it — controlled, unreadable, the one who watches her like he's already three moves ahead. Theo is the middle, all charm and reckless warmth, the one who makes her laugh before she remembers she's supposed to be furious with all of them. And James, the youngest, says almost nothing at all — until he does, and it lands like a blade.
Mathilde tells herself the house is big enough. That she can love one brother like a stranger, tolerate another, and simply survive the third. She is wrong within a week.
Because the Ashford triplets don't share everything by accident. They share it on purpose. And the one thing they've quietly, wordlessly agreed to share next is her.
What starts as rivalry curdles into something none of them has a name for — a look held too long over dinner, a hand that lingers on a doorframe, a silence between three brothers that Mathilde is starting to understand means not yet, but soon. She's the outsider who was never supposed to be family. Now she's the secret all three of them are keeping from their father, from each other, and from themselves.
The Ashford brothers have never had to choose anything in their lives. They've always just taken it together.
They're not about to start choosing now.
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