Chapter One
Leon
New York hits different from Italy. Loud. Crowded. Everyone glued to their phones. Typical.
I've been gone for years. Nothing's changed.
I walk toward the terminal and scan the exit for my name on one of the cards. Nothing.
As expected. I pull out my phone to call Mom, when someone bumps into me—pain shoots up my shoulder and my phone falls off my arm hitting the floor, as it slide across the tiles.
"Seriously?" I growl.
My eyes slide down to the girl, she straighten to meet my gaze, eyes wide—brown eyes, wavy dark hair. Pretty.
"Ah—sorry," She murmurs, rubbing her shoulder. She looks up at me, appearing more shocked than I am. She probably recognizes me. Fans usually do.
"Are you blind? Watch where you're going, woman." My voice comes out colder than I meant. She looks away, drags her fingers through her hair, and stares back at me—her face turns flat this time, looking more irritated than I am.
"Blind? My eyesight is perfect. It's you who needs an eye check. Got it?" She snaps, bending to grab her things.
She snapped? Interesting.
"Do you even know who you're talking to?"
My words gritting out of my lips. Steely. Sharp.
"Like I care. Get lost."
Tough girl? Cute.
I crouch beside her, leaning close enough for her to feel my breath.
"If you want an autograph, just ask. And if it's my body you want, sweetheart… I can make time." I tell her, and grip her jaw lightly, pulling her closer.
"Unbelievable." She scoffs, then yanks off my hand. "You're a waste of time, dumbass."
She strides toward the concourse without looking back.
I watch her disappear into the crowd.
Who the hell is she? And how does she not recognize me?
I shake my head and grab my bag.
"And where the hell is this useless driver?"
Someone shouts my name from across the terminal—fans. Of course.
I yank on my cap and mask, drop my head, and cut through the crowd toward the exit.
A black car rolls up in front of me. The driver jumps out and opens the back door without a word.
I level him with a stare, and arch a brow. Fool.
"Keys."
He hands them over.
I head to the driver's seat, get in, and slam the door. I wind the window down.
"Sir, Madam Cherry instructed me to drive you home."
"Get lost."
I hit the gas and speed off.
...…
I arrive at the mansion and stride inside. The place is bigger than I remember.
Contemporary art lines the walls. The furniture is a blend of sleek minimalism and quiet luxury. Stylish. Inviting.
The air carries the scent of fresh flowers—sweet, but with something sharp underneath. Elegant, but edged.
"Great. Everything's changed. I barely recognize the hallway."
"Bonjour, son."
Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I turn toward her. Still the same as always.
Smart—check.
Stunning—check.
Pretty—check.
I close the distance between us. A cold, genuine smile tugs at my mouth.
Her amber eyes still hold that warmth I grew up with. She waves her slender fingers in greeting before pulling me into a hug—tight enough to knock the breath out of me.
Refreshing. Yeah. I didn't realize how much I missed this.
"Mom, I missed you."
"Oh, really? I don't believe you. You kept me waiting for years." Her voice is muffle against my shoulder.
I loosen my hold on her.
"But you also made me wait at the airport."
"Well, let's call that even then."
She beams. "I'm so sorry, little boy. I was at the salon doing my hair. After all, I need to look beautiful for my son. I can't let you think I'm getting old." She laughs. "Don't worry—next time I'll run to the airport barefoot."
I grin. God, I missed her hilarious jokes.
I rest a hand on her shoulder, and we head upstairs to the living room.
"Hello! Everyone, I'm back home! Mom! Where are you? Come downstairs, your son is back!"
The voice echoes through the mansion, cutting off our conversation.
A young man. Familiar, but I can't place it immediately.
Jay… or Arnav?
No — it can't be Arnav. He only shows up when absolutely necessary.
So it has to be Jay.
My fist clenches. My jaw tightens just thinking about him.
I turn toward the study room, but Mom catches my hand. She holds it firmly and shakes her head — the same signal she uses whenever I'm about to do something I'll regret later.
I don't regret fighting with my brothers.
What I regret is how those fights hurt her… how they made her cry.
I release a slow breath and follow her down the stairs.
Jay drops his sports bag and rushes to hug Mom. We almost get along—because he respects her. With everything else? No.
"My son is finally here! What took you so long to visit your mother? Don't you miss me at all?"
Mom shifts her gaze to me and blinks. I know exactly what she's trying to do. I ignore her signal and glare at Jay—a silent warning to stay out of my way while I'm here.
Jay is the third son. I'm older, but respect? He never gave me that. Fear? That one, yes.
He once called me a psychopath because he thought I burned his favorite cat alive. I planned to, but on my way to do it, I ran into a kid crying his lungs out. The noise Irritated me, so I gave him the cat just to shut him up.
When I got back home, Jay was searching everywhere.
He asked me where the cat was.
"What do you think?"
That's all I told him.
I still remember the look on his face when he examined me—lighter in one hand, gasoline in the other. He screamed and ran inside.
I smirked. Anyone who saw me at that moment would've thought I was a demon in human skin.
We were just teenage boys then. He broke my favorite pencil.
And I don't forgive people who touch my things.
He can call me a psychopath all he wants. I cause havoc for a reason. Psychopaths don't.
"Come on, Mom. I'm here now, and I'm back for good this time, I promise."
He raises his hand like he's making an oath.
I pick up a newspaper, sit on the couch, and cross my legs.
"I see you have a new haircut."
"Since you noticed my haircut, I'll take that as a greeting," I say, eyes still pinned to the newspaper I'm barely reading.
Jay has changed a lot since I last saw him—except his height. He's tall, but average compared to me. The real difference is his build. He's put on muscle. His skin looks paler, his hair trimmed into a neat crew cut, and his eyes… brighter. Livelier.
If we had grown up together, he wouldn't look this soft.
"Tell me, Mom, where's Papa John?" he asks.
Right—Mr. William I'd planned to see the old man before Jay distracted me. I set the newspaper down beside me.
"Where else? His study room," Mom answers.
"I'll go upstairs and surprise him. I'll give him the shock of his life. Won't that be fun, Mom?"
My gaze follows him as he heads up the stairs, his white T-shirt and jeans disappearing from view.
"Mom, is my room ready?"
"Of course it is. Go on upstairs. I'll tell the butler to prepare your favorite dish," she says cheerfully.
I rise from the couch and head up the stairs. My hand is already on the doorknob of my room when—
"Surprise! Surprise! What's up, Papa John? Long time no see!"
Jay's voice carries from the study. I glance over; the door is slightly open.
Mr. William sits inside, poised in his chair, flipping through a file.
He tilts his head up, and our eyes meet.
Damn it.
Not the right time. Not with Jay here.
I try to turn away, but too late—he's already seen me.
I walk quickly to the study door and knock.
"Can I come in?" I ask, my voice low and husky.
He nods, and I step inside. Jay looks up from his seat and smirks, effortlessly flipping the pen in his hand.
"Where are your manners, Jay? Is this how you address your father now?" Mr. William says, finally lifting his eyes from the files.
"Come on, old man. Count me out of your lectures and save those for later. Don't you miss your son?" Jay jokes.
Mr. William frowns at him. Jay stands, walks over, and hugs him from behind. He's always been this way—always fooling around with him, even knowing his temper. And that temper? Another level entirely. I guess his genes are so strong that all my brothers inherited it—me included.
"There's something on your shirt, Pa John," Jay says.
My eyes scan his crispy sky-blue shirt.
Mr. William looks down, searching for whatever Jay claims is there. Nothing, of course. I glance up, and our gazes meet—both of us groaning at Jay's impish smile.
Fuck. This stupid prank again. He should thank his luck it wasn't me he tried that on. I admit I was fooled for a second, but I'd rather fuck my ex than admit that to him.
I walk toward the bookshelf filled with all kinds of genres. My eyes land on one of my favorites: The Rat Kills the Scorpion by Brian Smith. This book will always be my best of all I've read—the way he explains outsmarting people by reading their expressions. Not the normal way, though. More like how a genius would… or a psycho, perhaps.
"Gotcha! I just pulled a prank on you, sorry." There, distracted again by my supposed clown bro.
Both going back and forth in the study room, Mom walks in, and Jay moves sprightly to her and buries himself at her back.
"Enough of that, father and son," she says calmly. "Alright, Jay, be a good boy. Stop disturbing your father," she says clearly, holding Jay's hands firmly. "Now I've got you, darling. Jay is yours. You can have him."
"Didn't I tell you that I would get you? Now look, you are in my hands." Father's eyes light up musingly.
"Come on! Mom! That's cheating," Jay says, struggling to free his hand from Father.
"Mom, just tell him to surrender. He should admit that he was fooled by me."
"Yeah, Papa John, listen to Mom. You might suffer a heart attack if you run too much."
"You…" Father hesitates. He finally frees himself. Jay runs to the door and shuts it behind him before Father can finish the words hanging on his tongue.
I walk up to Mom and chuckle softly at how mischievous she acted.
"Hi! Bro." I hear Jay's voice outside the door. I look straight at the door. Mom holds the doorknob hesitantly. I can sense she is scared of who Jay is referring to; it might be Arnav. I reach for the doorknob, my hand on hers.
"It's alright, Mom. I'm here," I whisper, and open the door, and my gaze meets Arnav's tall figure wrapping around Jay, making him look intimidated, and his gaze is as cold as winter. He shifts his gaze from Jay and locks eyes with me.
I close the door behind me.
"Hi. Bro…ther." He drawls. My jaw twitches in fury as I glare at him.
"Brother? Jokes."
"Mom, look, it's Arnav," Jay says grimly.