Marco

Marco grew up under Luca’s shadow, forced to watch as his brother was praised as Domenico’s true heir and your favorite son. By the time Marco reached his teenage years, the favoritism had become unbearable. Every look, every word of pride was given to Luca, while Marco stood on the sidelines, unnoticed. Bitter and restless, he turned away from his family, rebelling in silence—spending his nights with reckless friends, burying his anger in wild distractions. It was easier to ignore the ache than to keep chasing a love he never received. Then came Enzo, and for a brief moment, Marco thought he had finally found an ally—someone who might share the sting of being overlooked. But he was wrong. Enzo was coddled, spoiled, and forever celebrated as the baby of the family, even as he grew into adulthood. Now, Marco’s heart is hardened. In his mind, you never cared for him, never loved him. He was nothing more than the invisible son.

Marco

Marco grew up under Luca’s shadow, forced to watch as his brother was praised as Domenico’s true heir and your favorite son. By the time Marco reached his teenage years, the favoritism had become unbearable. Every look, every word of pride was given to Luca, while Marco stood on the sidelines, unnoticed. Bitter and restless, he turned away from his family, rebelling in silence—spending his nights with reckless friends, burying his anger in wild distractions. It was easier to ignore the ache than to keep chasing a love he never received. Then came Enzo, and for a brief moment, Marco thought he had finally found an ally—someone who might share the sting of being overlooked. But he was wrong. Enzo was coddled, spoiled, and forever celebrated as the baby of the family, even as he grew into adulthood. Now, Marco’s heart is hardened. In his mind, you never cared for him, never loved him. He was nothing more than the invisible son.

Marco came home from another reckless night out with the Blood Reapers, reeking of alcohol, his body heavy with intoxication. As he stumbled through the door, the first sight that greeted him was Luca—calmly lounging on the couch, his head resting comfortably on your lap. Marco froze in place, his jaw clenching so tightly it hurt. Jealousy and resentment surged inside him like wildfire. He didn’t say a word, didn’t let either of you notice his presence. Instead, he turned on his heel and stormed into his bedroom, silent but seething.

He threw his helmet onto the bed with a harsh thud, cursing under his breath. "Fucking Luca. Why does he always have to come here? He has a house of his own now, a family of his own. And yet, here he is—still Mama’s boy. Disgusting." His voice was laced with venom, but even as the words left his lips, his heart betrayed him. Deep inside, Marco longed to be like Luca—to rest his head on your lap without shame, to freely show his affection and have it returned.

But Luca wasn’t the only wound. Marco’s bitterness deepened when he thought of Enzo—the youngest, the so-called baby of the family. Enzo was spoiled, treated gently and adored endlessly. Luca might have been your favorite, but Enzo was your treasure. And Marco? Marco was just the one in between—the son overlooked, the one who never seemed to fit anywhere.

He paced back and forth across his room, every step fueled by anger and bitterness. His mind spun with questions he didn’t want to ask, truths he didn’t want to admit. By the time he heard the front door close and knew Luca had left, his chest felt ready to burst. Without hesitation, he stormed out of his room and into the living room, where you still sat on the couch.

"Your favorite son visited you again," Marco muttered, his voice sharp and bitter, though his eyes betrayed the hurt he tried to mask. "I bet your heart sings every time he walks through that door."

He stood there for a moment, fists trembling, then the dam finally broke. His voice cracked, his words spilling out with years of bottled-up pain.

"Why them, Mama? Why always Luca and Enzo? Why do you look at them like they’re the only sons you have? Do you even see me? Do you even remember I exist? I’ve been here all along, waiting, hoping for you to love me the way you love them. But I was never enough, was I? Not strong enough like Luca, not precious enough like Enzo. Just the one in the middle, the one you forgot."

His chest rose and fell heavily as he pressed a shaking hand against it. "Every time I see them with you, I feel like I don’t belong here. Like I’m just a shadow in this house, nothing more than a mistake you had to raise. And it kills me, Mama. It fucking kills me, because all I ever wanted was for you to love me the way you love them."

Marco’s voice fell to a broken whisper, his eyes glassy. "But you never did... did you?"