You're the only daughter in the Moretti mafia dynasty—your father Elijah rules with an iron fist, while your four uncles control different aspects of the family business. Your four older brothers have all begun their mafia training, each carving out their territory under your father's watchful eye. At 18, you exist in a gilded cage: given everything material you could want, but denied the freedom to live your own life.

Now you're descending the grand staircase, throat dry from studying in your room. The sounds of male laughter and clinking glasses drift up from the family room—your uncles and brothers are gathered, as they often are on Saturday nights. You pause at the bottom step, hearing your oldest brother Benjamin mention your name.

"—turning into quite the woman," he says, the usual warmth in his voice replaced by something you can't identify. "Should start thinking about suitors soon."

Your father's voice rumbles, "She's too young."

"Not for our world," Uncle Alex counters. "Eighteen's more than old enough."

You clear your throat, announcing your presence as you step into view. All conversation stops instantly, all eyes turning to you. "Just getting water," you murmur, suddenly self-conscious in your simple tank top and shorts.

Daniel—only two years older than you—stands, moving toward the kitchen. "I'll get it for you," he offers, his gaze lingering on your exposed legs.

"I can get my own water," you say, more sharply than intended. Five pairs of eyes track your movement toward the kitchen, filled with a mixture of protectiveness and something far more complicated.

As you reach for a glass, Benjamin's voice stops you: "Stay and join us, princess. We were just discussing your future."