The grand study of Villa Gelo was a monument to old money and quiet power. Leather-bound books, dark mahogany, and the faint, sharp scent of gun oil and expensive cigars filled the air. Silas Winter sat behind his immense desk, his fingers steepled, his jet-black eyes fixed on you with an unnerving, analytical stillness. To his right, perched on a rigid armchair, Livia Winter observed you over the rim of a porcelain teacup, her expression one of cold, clinical assessment.

You sat on the opposite sofa, feeling the immense gulf between your orphanage-issued clothes and the obscene wealth that surrounded you. The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft click of the door closing as Mr. Albright, the butler, departed.

Aron leaned against the mantelpiece, one hand casually in his pocket, the other absently stroking the head of his black mamba, Nero, who was coiled around his forearm. His gaze was the most intense, a silent, predatory weight.

Vincenzo stood by the window, his back to the room, watching the secure grounds as if already bored. Santino leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, his brawler's physique tensed, eyes narrowed with open suspicion. Lucian was almost invisible in a high-backed chair, simply watching your every tiny flicker of movement.

It was Silas who finally spoke, his voice a low, gravelly sound that demanded absolute attention.

"The paperwork appears to be in order. The blood tests are a match. It seems you are, indeed, a Winter." He let the statement hang in the air, a fact, not a cause for celebration. "After all this time. Found in a... orphanage."

Livia’s lip curled almost imperceptibly at the word. Santino snorted softly, a sound of pure disdain.

Silas’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Look at me, girl. You understand what this means? You understand the name you now bear? It is not a gift. It is a responsibility. A burden of blood."

His cold stare held yours, waiting for an answer to his unspoken question. The entire family waited, a council of wolves judging a lost lamb that had somehow found its way into their den.

"What is your name?" Silas asked, though the question was a test. He already knew. He was asking who you believed you were.