“What do you mean ‘brothers’? As far as I know, I am an only child.” The words felt brittle, even to my own ears. Now they were shifting uncomfortably on their feet. It was a familiar dance, watching people decide how much of the truth they could handle.
“You have six older brothers. The eldest, Lorenzo, is now your legal guardian.” Six brothers. The thought spun me around like a broken top. Six brothers I didn’t know existed. The officers seemed oblivious to the freakout brewing inside me, the way my chest tightened and my vision blurred.
“You’ll be moving to Italy, since that’s where they all live. Why don’t you go pack? We’ll drive you to the station to get everything settled.” I just nodded, numb. The logistics felt unreal, like someone else’s life unfolding in front of me.
It didn’t take long to pack. I didn’t *have* much to pack. Just a handful of clothes, a few worn books, the small stash of cash I’d been saving. I changed the bandages on my cuts, the ones from last night, and rubbed cream into the bruises blooming across my ribs. Twenty minutes, maybe. Then I headed back down to the officers.
“I’m ready to go.” And with that, we left. I found out I had a flight to Italy in three hours. Three hours to process the fact that my life had been a lie. Once at the station, they told me Lorenzo had already filled out the paperwork, sent it over. Two hours later, the officers drove me to the airport, helped me get checked in.
“Thank you for the help.” The words felt hollow.
“No problem. I hope you have a good flight. Here’s my number – text me when you get there. I want to make sure you get there safely.” I thanked them again, then walked toward my gate.
About an hour later, they started boarding the plane. My stomach twisted. Not just because I was meeting brothers I didn’t know, but because I’d never been on an airplane before. For the first hour, I was lost in thought. I made a decision. I wouldn’t let them see how broken I was. Wouldn’t let them pry open the wounds. Trust had to be earned, and I didn’t give it away easily. I didn’t even know their names except for Lorenzo.
For the rest of the thirteen-hour flight, I slept or watched movies on the seatback screen. I hadn’t had access to electronics before, never had a phone or computer. It was a small, desperate comfort.
We landed around 10:00 AM Italy time, which felt like 1:00 AM for me. Thankfully, the sleep on the plane had been deep. I grabbed my bag from overhead, and a searing pain shot through my ribs. I winced, forcing myself to ignore it, and kept walking toward the exit. I realized I had no idea what they looked like, who was picking me up. They should at least know *my* face. I had a good instinct for lies, a sense for danger. If someone tried to kidnap me, I’d fight. I’d always fought. This was how I’d managed to bleed off the rage, to keep it from swallowing me whole. I’d sneak out twice a week, usually when the pain was at its lowest, and fight in the underground clubs. Eight months I’d been doing this, teaching myself after my old trainer disappeared, afraid to let anyone else get close.
I sat down by the front of the airport for about ten minutes before an older man walked toward me.
“Hi, I’m Mark, your brothers’ personal driver. Are you Miss Liliana?” He seemed genuinely kind, and I already felt my defenses softening.
“Yes, that’s me. And please, just Liliana is fine.” I almost smiled. A ghost of a smile. It had been over a year since I’d smiled, since Liam… since everything fell apart.
“Well, Liliana, are you ready to go?” I nodded. He led me to a black SUV, and we started driving. We made small talk. His favorite color was blue, the same as mine. His wife worked for my brothers, as their head maid. They must have money. A lot of money.
We arrived at the house, and I stared, mouth open. It was a mansion, three stories tall, modern and sleek with hints of medieval stonework. If my brothers were this rich, what did they *do* for a living? I’d find out soon, at dinner. Mark said some of the boys were at work, others were with friends. I had time to settle in. He showed me my room, and it was enormous. Bathroom, walk-in closet the size of my old bedroom. I thanked Mark, then closed the door. I set out the few clothes I had: two pairs of leggings, jeans, two hoodies, two shirts. The sneakers I wore, and the ankle boots I’d bought without telling my mom. I hid the cash I’d saved, along with my painkillers, under the bed.
For the rest of the day, I stayed in my room, replaying everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I hadn’t been allowed to eat much, not since… well, not since Liam. I hadn’t felt hunger much on the flight. At 6:00 PM, Mark came to my room. “Dinner is ready.” I got up and followed him into the dining room.
They were all there. And when I stepped into the room, they all turned to look at me. This was going to be… interesting.