~The lost one~

Chapter 39

Simi's PoV

I sat on the edge of my new bed, scrolling through Instagram reels to distract myself from the weird tension that had been gnawing at me since the house tour. Everything here was so grand, so alien to me, that it felt like I had landed in a movie set. My room alone looked like something out of a royal palace—huge windows overlooking the garden, a bed so soft I practically sank into it, and a bathroom that had more buttons than I knew what to do with.

A reel of a kitten getting stuck in a cereal box made me snicker, and I couldn't help but wish I had that simple, stupid kind of problem. Instead, here I was, in my new room, trying to process the fact that this... was my life now. I tried not to think about the mansion, the mafia stuff, or the brothers who looked at me like I was some sort of puzzle they were trying to solve.

A light knock on my door pulled me out of my thoughts. My heart jumped to my throat. I wasn't used to people knocking before entering.

"Simi, princess?" Vittorio's voice was smooth, with that slight Italian lilt I was slowly getting used to. "Dinner's ready. Come down to the dining room."

Princess? That was... new. I wasn't used to terms of endearment from parental figures—especially not ones like that.

I stood up, taking one last glance in the mirror to make sure I didn't look too much like I had been hiding from reality. My hair was fine—mostly. My eyes still had that tired look from the sleepless nights, but there wasn't much I could do about that.

Taking a deep breath, I left my room and made my way downstairs. The mansion felt even bigger at night. The dim lighting made the hallways look longer, stretching on forever, and I felt like I might get lost if I didn't remember which direction to go. Every corner seemed to have some expensive-looking painting or statue. One of them caught my eye—a painting of a woman in a flowing gown. She had the same fierce, determined expression that I'd seen on some of my brothers. Was she family? I couldn't help but wonder if this mansion was filled with stories that I didn't yet know.

When I reached the dining room, I paused in the doorway. The room was as grand as the rest of the house. A massive chandelier hung above the long table, casting a soft, golden light over everything. The chairs were upholstered in dark leather, and the table itself gleamed with polished wood. It looked like it belonged in a castle.

The brothers were already seated. I couldn't help but notice the way they were sitting—so different from each other. Luca was leaning back in his chair, relaxed but with a sharpness in his eyes that told me he was paying attention to everything. Antonio, quiet as always, sat with his hands clasped in front of him, looking like he was deep in thought. Giovann, on the other hand, was leaning forward slightly, his gaze flicking to me with that same curiosity I'd seen before. Rancho and the twins, Enzo and Fabio, were sitting at the far end of the table, speaking quietly among themselves. They were always harder to read, like they were holding back a part of themselves.

Vittorio stood at the head of the table, a faint smile on his face as he watched me enter. "Come, Simi. Sit. We've been waiting for you."

I hesitated for a second, then took the seat next to Luca, who shot me a reassuring smile. He had this way of making me feel less like an intruder, even though I still kind of felt like one.

The table was already set, and the food smelled incredible. There were dishes I couldn't even name—pastas with rich, creamy sauces, roasted meats, fresh salads, and baskets of warm, crusty bread. My stomach growled at the sight of it all, betraying how hungry I was.

"Hope you're hungry," Luca said, smirking a little as he handed me a plate. "We tend to go all out for family meals."

I nodded, trying to act casual, but I felt awkward. This was more food than I'd ever seen at one time. And it wasn't just pizza and pasta like I might've expected. The attention to detail was obvious—perfectly sliced vegetables, meat cooked just the right way. There was even some kind of delicate dessert on a separate plate, like a tiny piece of art.

The chair I was sitting on felt so comfortable it almost made me self-conscious. I mean, who has chairs this fancy? I'd always been used to mismatched kitchen chairs that were either too hard or too wobbly. But this was like sitting on a cloud. Maybe a cloud with an attitude.

The brothers began to eat, and I followed their lead, trying to ignore the fact that they were all watching me, subtly or not-so-subtly. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, even though everyone was pretending it wasn't.

"How's your head?" Luca asked, keeping his voice low as he leaned toward me. "You said you had a headache earlier."

I glanced at him, thankful for the distraction from all the eyes on me. "It's better. Just needed some quiet, I guess."

He nodded, as if that was an answer he understood. "Good. If you need anything, just let me know."

I managed a small smile in return, grateful for his kindness, even if I still didn't know how to fully respond to it. Everything here felt like a test, like I was being evaluated. But by who? My brothers? Or myself?

As we ate, Vittorio cleared his throat and the room fell into a quiet hush. The man had a way of commanding attention without saying much. He glanced around the table before his gaze landed on me, softening ever so slightly.

"I've waited a long time for this," he began, his voice steady, but I could hear the emotion beneath it. "To have you home, Simi. To have my family complete again."

I froze, unsure how to respond. Home? It didn't feel like home yet. It felt... surreal.

"I know this is a lot," Vittorio continued, his eyes locked on mine. "And it will take time. But know that you are a part of this family now. And we take care of our own. Always."

I swallowed, nodding because words wouldn't come. The weight of his gaze was too heavy, too intense. Part of me wanted to cry, but another part of me felt numb, like I was floating outside my own body, watching this whole scene play out from above.

The brothers' reactions were mixed. Luca gave me another reassuring look, while Antonio remained silent, his expression unreadable. Giovann, ever curious, was watching me like I was some puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. Rancho and the twins were whispering among themselves, though their attention occasionally flicked back to me.

As the meal continued, I listened to the light conversation around the table, trying to take everything in. The brothers made small talk, sharing stories about the business, some of which flew over my head, and others that seemed purposely vague. Occasionally, they threw in a joke, trying to lighten the mood, but there was an underlying tension that never quite left the room.

I didn't say much. I couldn't. My mind was still spinning from everything—the grandeur of the house, the family dynamics, Vittorio's speech. It was all too much, too fast.

After dinner, Vittorio excused us, and I practically bolted for the stairs. I needed to be alone. My thoughts were too loud, and the weight of everything was pressing down on me.

When I finally made it back to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It felt like the mansion itself was watching me, waiting for me to slip up or make a wrong move.

I pulled out my phone, needing a distraction again. Instagram reels, cat videos—anything to keep me from thinking too hard about what had just happened. But as I scrolled through, my mind kept circling back to the same thought:

This was my life now. Whether I liked it or not.