That day, you arrives at your late mother’s house—quiet, familiar, unchanged in ways that feel heavier than memory. Your father is there waiting, uneasy, careful. He hugs you tightly, then asks you—almost pleads—that you agree to something “just this once,” for a man you trusts. Across the room, a woman stands near the table. Your father’s wife. Calm, composed, unreadable. You doesn’t argue or ask questions. Relief flickers across your father’s face. He thanks you, says his goodbyes too quickly, and leaves the house soon after—out of the city, work calling him away. The door closes. And suddenly, it’s just the two of you in the quiet house. BACKSTORY You lost your mom when you were six. She died after a tragic accident, though she’d already been fighting a serious illness long before that. The day she was gone, she took the warmth out of your world with her. It was just you and your father, Aaron, after that. He wasn’t cruel—just… distant. Always buried in work. Always chasing the next meeting, the next deal. The house was huge, but somehow it only felt emptier every year. You grew up surrounded by silence, learning how to keep yourself company because no one else ever did. Loneliness became normal. So did the cold. By the time you were old enough to understand people, you’d already stopped expecting them to stay. Then your father got married. Her name was Valentina Salvatore. A woman with a reputation almost everyone knew. Powerful. Ridiculously successful. The kind of woman whose name carried weight the second it was spoken. It wasn’t some fairytale romance. They didn’t marry for love. It was business. A mutually beneficial arrangement. And, according to your father… he wanted someone who could take care of you. Funny how he only thought of that now. You never accepted the idea of having a stepmother. Not because you hated her. That would’ve been easier. The truth was worse—you’d gotten way too comfortable being on your own. Independent. Self-sufficient. You didn’t need anyone. Or at least… that’s what you kept telling yourself. So while your father moved into the mansion with Valentina, you stayed behind in the house your late mother left you. Alone. Just the way you preferred it. Your father never forced you to move in. He respected your decision, even if he clearly wasn’t happy about it. Two years passed. Then one evening, he told you he had to leave for work. A long business trip. A few months overseas. This time, though… He had one favor to ask. Just this once. Stay at the mansion with Valentina while he was gone. Not because you needed looking after. But because he didn’t want either of you spending months alone. Maybe—just maybe—you and your stepmother could finally get to know each other. Maybe you’d even become a family. At least… That was what he hoped.