Pearl P.O.V.

I stood at the Los Angeles airport, gripping my suitcase while my mother practically bounced beside me. She kept fixing her lipstick like a teenager on a first date. Ever since my stepfather said he would come to pick us up personally, she acted like it was the biggest honor in the world.

Sure, Grantelle Falconi was some famous billionaire, but I didn’t get why she acted like a giddy schoolgirl. My real father always picked us up from airports and no one clapped for him.

I was lost in thought when I heard loud footsteps behind me—then an annoyingly high-pitched giggle. I turned around, my stomach sinking, only to witness my mother sucking Grantelle’s face like a love-starved teenager. I wanted to vomit right there on the marble floor.

The same woman who used to scold my father for showing affection in public was now making out with her new husband like it was a reality show. It had barely been a month since the divorce. I wondered if this affair had been going on longer than anyone admitted. But they never told me anything, so I kept my mouth shut.

Grantelle finally released my mother and strolled over to me with a grin stretched too wide.

“Pearl, sweetheart! How are you?” His tone was too cheerful, his smile too forced.

I forced my lips into a smile I didn’t feel. “I’m fine, Mr. Falconi.”

My mother shot me a warning glare, but I didn’t care. I had a plan: one year of peace, then I’d be off to college and far away from their drama.

“Oh no, no formalities between us,” Grantelle said with a chuckle. “You can call me Dad.”

I smiled wider, making sure it looked fake. “My father is alive and well in New York, thank you. You can tell me your first name. I’ll stick to that.”

His smile cracked. Mom’s expression dropped. I didn’t care. Did they expect me to play happy daughter?

Grantelle cleared his throat. “Grantelle… or Grant, if you prefer. I understand this is a big change, but I want you to know you’re like a daughter to me.”

Yeah right. I bet he practiced that line in front of a mirror. I swallowed my anger and nodded. “Grantelle it is. Can we go? I’m exhausted.”

We headed for the exit. Outside, a convoy of black Range Rovers waited, surrounded by heavily armed bodyguards. Flashing cameras lit up the entrance, paparazzi swarming. I caught my mom straightening her hair, enjoying every second of attention.

Grantelle drove while my mom sat up front. I took the back seat, entertained myself by admiring the built bodyguards. At least eye candy existed in this nightmare.

They tried making conversation, but I pretended to sleep, something I had mastered over the past month. Mom always wanted to chat about her new life, her new husband, and her new stepson—so I simply tuned her out.

When the car stopped, a bodyguard opened my door. I stepped out and my jaw dropped.

Their mansion looked like something from a movie. White walls, huge gates, gardens bigger than my entire old house, and a fountain in front. Servants rushed forward to collect our luggage.

I stayed behind to wander through the garden. White lilies bloomed everywhere—my favorite. My dad used to plant lilies for me. My chest tightened, eyes stinging. I hated this. Hated how easily they replaced our life.

I wiped my face and forced myself to follow them inside.

The mansion’s interior was even worse—like a palace. Creamy white walls, chandeliers, polished floors, and expensive art everywhere. I felt like a tourist inside a museum rather than someone arriving home.

Bodyguards stood like statues in every corner. Overkill security for a man claiming to be a legitimate businessman.

I followed the noise to the living room, where my mom cuddled with Grantelle on the couch while a tall man stood by the window, speaking rapid Italian into a phone.

When Grantelle spotted me, he stood, looking proud. “Pearl, come meet your brother, Carrick.”

The man turned around, and my brain glitched.

He was massive, dressed in a crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows, a dark tie hanging loose around his neck, his hair a little messy, a tattoo peeking from his collar. His broad chest, defined arms, and sharp jawline made every air molecule in the room vanish.

But it was his eyes that trapped me—deep forest green, sharp and dangerous. His stare made my skin prickle.

I swallowed, trying to look away, but my gaze stuck on his lips, on the effortless way his body carried authority. My traitorous brain whispered things it shouldn’t.

I shook myself, cleared my throat, but before I could speak, Carrick grabbed his coat, sent me a cold glance, and walked out without a word.

Perfect. My new “brother” already hated me.

Good. Because I sure as hell wasn’t planning on liking him either.

---

Carrick P.O.V.

I gripped the steering wheel, speeding through the empty streets. My men sat quietly in the back, their eyes glued to the road ahead, probably wondering if I had lost my mind. I didn’t care if they were terrified. I had to get out of that house before I completely snapped.

I had no idea why I was heading to Vale’s house, but I needed to talk to someone or I was going to explode. My father had sent me to pick up his new wife and her daughter, Pearl, this morning. He reminded me to be on my best behavior, keep the mafia world hidden from Pearl, and act like the perfect older brother. The same lecture I had heard too many times.

I was already pissed off about this whole situation, so I came up with a dumb plan last night. I wanted to make Pearl’s life miserable. Make her regret stepping into our world. I couldn’t kill anyone anymore because of stupid rules and politics. Torturing people was my only escape, but now, thanks to Pearl, I had to pretend to be a good man.

But when I saw her, everything crumbled.

Last night, Vale warned me I’d be teaching at her school. I should have known she was a teenager. But I didn’t listen. I was too annoyed to care. My plan to torment her turned to ash the moment I laid eyes on her.

This morning, while talking business with Mariano, I watched through the window as Pearl stepped into the garden, standing among the lilies. She wiped her eyes, looking too fragile, too soft. When my father called me to meet her, I turned around ready to act cold and cruel… but instead, I saw the most beautiful green eyes staring back at me.

She looked nothing like the brat I imagined. Her messy dark curls, oversized sweatshirt, tired eyes, and pouty lips hit me harder than any bullet. My stomach twisted, and worse, something else reacted… something that made me want to punch myself in the face.

I hadn’t been touched in years, didn’t care for women, yet one glance from her and I felt like an animal. My thoughts weren’t brotherly—they were twisted and wrong. She was too young, too innocent, and for God’s sake, she was my stepsister.

That was why I bolted from the house like a coward, driving like a lunatic, trying to drown the disgusting thoughts crawling in my head.

I reached Vale’s house after fifteen minutes, slammed the car door shut, and pounded on the door like a madman. After a few seconds, Jenny opened it.

“Carrick? You okay?” she asked with a soft voice.

I didn’t like it when people called me “Ro.” Only Vale did that when we were kids. But I swallowed my irritation and forced a polite nod.

“Need to talk to Vale.”

“Of course, come in,” she said, stepping aside.

Vale’s house was always warm and comfortable, unlike my cold mansion. I walked straight into the living room and sat on my usual spot, the couch they kept just for me. My chest tightened remembering old times, but I pushed the feeling away. I wasn’t here to get sentimental.

Vale walked in with two glasses of wine, Jenny right behind him. They didn’t ask questions, just handed me a glass. They knew me too well.

“So, who pissed you off this early?” Vale grinned as he settled beside me.

I didn’t bother hiding it. “Pearl. My new stepsister. I met her today. I had this whole plan of making her life hell just to entertain myself. But then I saw her, and the plan went to shit.”

Vale raised a brow. “Carrick… she’s a kid.”

“Don’t interrupt me,” I snapped, then sighed. “I know. I realised it after seeing her. Father doesn’t want her to know anything about our business, and I get it now. She’s just a kid.”

But I didn’t tell him everything. I didn’t mention the worst part. The part where my mind drifted into places it never should have gone.

Vale leaned back, shaking his head. “I told you yesterday. She’s a senior, Carrick. She’s seventeen. Still a damn kid.”

I clenched the glass tighter. Vale was right, but it didn’t change the fact that my brain betrayed me in the most shameful way possible.

He kept talking, voice softer now. “She’s not part of our mess, Carrick. She’s just a teenager who got dragged into this.”

I looked at him, ready to tell him the truth, but my chest tightened when I saw the excitement on his face.

“I mean, she’s our sister now,” Vale said, smiling. “Yours and mine. Finally, a little sister. I always wanted one, but instead, I got stuck with you.”

I gave him a dry glare, but he just laughed.

He went on, voice full of hope. “We’ll protect her, teach her self-defence, maybe even let her join the business when she’s old enough… if she wants to. She deserves a normal life, Carrick.”

I stayed quiet. Vale didn’t understand. He never saw what I saw, never felt what I felt just by looking at her. He wanted to protect her, and all I could think about was claiming her.

Vale’s eyes lit up, already planning ways to spoil her. He missed his little sister, and I knew Pearl had filled that hole in his heart without even meeting him.

I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t ruin this hope he finally had. Maybe one day I’d get rid of these dirty thoughts, bury them deep and never let them see the light of day.

But one thing was clear—no one would hurt Pearl.

Not even me.