Chapter 2 Let's deal with it

Nothing could be more humiliating than this.

I could barely stand being in the same room with Luciano, especially knowing my stepdad would soon disappear into his private study again, leaving the two of us in awkward silence. The air in the dining room felt heavier than usual, thick with the smell of roasted herbs, garlic, and the faint metallic tang of tension that never seemed to leave this house.

Enzo-my stepfather, the man everyone whispered about behind closed doors as "Hades"-insisted on family dinners unless someone was physically out of the country. Every single evening, without fail, he would lecture us about loyalty, unity, and how blood (or the lack of it) didn't matter when it came to family. "Family sticks together," he'd say in that low, commanding voice of his, as if repeating the words often enough would make them true.

It felt less like love and more like control. A sacred rule carved in stone, enforced by the man who ruled this household with an iron fist wrapped in expensive suits.

'What a load of nonsense,' I cursed silently, stabbing a piece of asparagus with more force than necessary.

Truth be told, I wasn't afraid to say it to his face. I had done it before. But the last time the words "I hate you" slipped out in a moment of teenage rage, Enzo had grounded me for three straight months. No phone, no friends, no freedom. Luciano had been ordered to pick me up from school every single day like some personal watchdog. The humiliation still burned whenever I thought about it.

That black-haired jerk hadn't even let me text my boyfriend during that punishment. One afternoon, when I tried to slip away to meet someone after class, Luciano had literally thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, carried me kicking and screaming to the car, and driven off while I dry-heaved from the embarrassment in front of half the student body. The smug smirk he wore that day was the exact same one he was wearing right now across the polished mahogany table.

"Jerk," I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough that Enzo might miss it.

I set the last crystal glass down with a soft clink and tried to take my usual seat at the far end of the table-directly opposite Enzo, as their weird seating arrangement always demanded. They insisted Mom sit in her designated spot beside him, which left me stuck right in front of Luciano. Every. Single. Meal.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Tiffany." Luciano's voice was calm but carried that unmistakable edge of authority he'd inherited from his father. He wiggled his index and middle fingers toward me in a mocking "come here" gesture. "Sit properly. Now."

I gripped the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white. I wanted nothing more than to slap that arrogant expression off his face, but I'd learned that lesson the hard way too. The last time I raised a hand against him, Enzo had punished me by making me act as Luciano's personal chauffeur for an entire month-driving him to every appointment, every training session, every late-night errand. "No hitting family," Enzo had said coldly, as if the word "family" could magically erase the fact that we weren't even related by blood.

He had never formally adopted me. That little detail made his constant lectures about loyalty and unity feel even more like a cruel joke. It was just another reason I wished both Enzo and Luciano would vanish from my life.

I was starting to wonder darker things too-things I didn't dare voice out loud. Why had my mother fallen from a moving car that night two years ago? The police had barely asked any questions. No investigation, no follow-up. Just a quiet ruling of "accident." Enzo's green eyes had been unreadable when they brought the news. Sometimes, late at night, I lay awake wondering if he had anything to do with it. The thought made my stomach twist.

"You. Where are you supposed to sit, sweetheart?" Enzo's voice rumbled low and dangerous, like distant thunder.

I flinched so hard I nearly knocked my chair over. His piercing green eyes locked onto me from across the table, sharp enough to cut glass.

"Tiffany?" Impatience sharpened his tone.

I forced a bright, fake smile onto my face, picked up my plate and cup, and moved to the correct seat beside Luciano, avoiding both their gazes. I could hear Luciano snort quietly under his breath, clearly amused by my discomfort.

"Dad!" I tried to sound cheerful but it came out strained and awkward. "I was just... adjusting things."

I pulled the chair back properly this time and sat down, spine straight, hands folded in my lap like a well-behaved doll. Then I lifted my eyes and glared straight at Enzo's face.

What an empty soul he had.

Those green eyes looked hollow, like an abandoned graveyard at midnight. His lips were pressed into a hard, unyielding line, his gaze fierce and unrelenting. Anyone else might think he was two seconds away from smashing a glass over someone's head. To me, that was just Enzo's default expression-like the devil himself had decided to wear a tailored black suit and play house.

"You look good today, Dad," I said, clearing my throat nervously. "Going somewhere important?"

Enzo actually smiled-a rare, genuine curve of his lips that somehow made him look even more dangerous. He reached across the table and placed his large hand on top of my head, then slowly slid it down to rest at the back of my neck. My entire body went rigid.

I had seen him do something like that once. A man who refused to answer his questions had been hurt repeatedly until blood poured across the metal and the poor soul passed out cold. I still wasn't sure whether Enzo knew I had witnessed it from the cracked doorway that night.

"I was just remembering the first time you met me and your mother five years ago," Enzo said, his smile widening slightly. "You came at me like a little wildcat and punched me straight in the stomach with everything you had."

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the heavy weight of his hand on my neck. "And you laughed and told Luciano how small and soft my punches were. As if that was supposed to be funny."

I glanced sideways at Luciano. His gray eyes were fixed on me-almost completely emotionless, just like his father's. But there was something else lurking beneath the surface, something I couldn't quite name. It made the hairs on the back of my arms stand up.

"You were so angry when you found out your mom had moved on only seven months after your real dad cheated on her," Enzo continued, voice softening in a way that felt completely fake. "It's time for you to move on too, sweetheart."

My eyes narrowed as I flicked my gaze between the two of them. No way. They couldn't just decide the direction of my entire life simply because they were now part of my mother's world.

Still, I had to admit the truth, even if only to myself. Before Enzo entered our lives, I had been attending a crowded, underfunded public school. Then he showed up. Suddenly Mom had a sleek new car, I was transferred to an elite private academy with marble hallways and ivy-covered walls, and I received my dream phone, an entire new wardrobe, expensive jewelry, my own spacious bedroom, and a walk-in closet bigger than our old living room. The one thing he had flat-out refused? Letting me have my own car.

He had also enrolled Luciano in the same school. So every single day, the gray-eyed, silent jerk and I had to leave and return together-even if we didn't ride in the same vehicle, we were required to enter the school compound at the exact same time. It was suffocating.

Sometimes I wondered about their strange similarities and differences. Enzo had striking green eyes while Luciano's were cool gray. Yet they shared the same jet-black hair, the same faint Italian accent that thickened when they were angry, and the same preference for dressing entirely in black. In certain lights, they looked almost like reflections of each other.

"Get ready, Tiffany. Your college admission just came through," Enzo announced with a satisfied smile. "You'll be studying in the United Kingdom-exactly where I want you."

My heart soared so fast I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. Enzo had no idea he had just handed me the golden ticket. Away from Florida. Away from his suffocating rules. Away from Luciano. This was my chance at freedom.

Yes! I wanted to scream and dance around the table.

Instead, I kept my expression neutral and slowly chewed a piece of perfectly cooked fish, pretending the news barely affected me.

"I'll give Luciano my black card," Enzo continued smoothly. "As soon as you finish eating, the two of you will go shopping for everything you need-clothes, supplies, luggage. Make sure you get quality items."

Wait... what?

"With Luciano?" I frowned, my fork freezing mid-air. "Daddy, I'm nineteen for goodness' sake! I can drive. I can look after myself. I don't need a mean-looking babysitter dragging me around and-"

My eyes closed involuntarily as Enzo rose from his chair, leaned down, and pressed a firm kiss to my forehead. The gesture should have felt fatherly. Instead, it felt like a brand. He straightened his perfectly tailored black jacket and adjusted his cuffs.

"You both got accepted into the same program. I've already paid for a private apartment near the campus hostel. You will act like proper siblings while you're there-or you can both stay right here in Florida and remain under my direct supervision." He smirked, the expression cold and final. "Your choice."

I sat frozen, speechless, my appetite completely gone.

Why would he do this? Why tie us together even across an ocean?

Enzo glanced at his watch. "I have something to deal with, honey." He began walking toward the heavy oak door that led to his private study, then paused and called over his shoulder, "Come here, Luciano. I want you to watch how this is handled."

The door shut behind them with a heavy, final click.

For some strange reason I couldn't explain, part of me wanted to follow. To press my ear against that door and finally understand what they always did alone in that room-what secrets, what business, what darkness they shared that made the rest of the house feel like it was holding its breath.

I stared at my half-eaten plate, the weight of my new reality pressing down on my chest like a stone.

College in the UK sounded like freedom.

But going with Luciano?

That felt like trading one cage for another.