Claimed by his twin

We're heading out

The private jet touched down with a soft jolt.

Lia startled awake. Nora squeezed her hand, whispering, “We’re here,”

Outside the window, runway lights glowed in rows, stretching into darkness. Not a commercial airport. Bigger. Cleaner. Too private and silent.

It was Lorenzo’s.

Of course, it was.

Lorenzo stood first. His movements were smooth, precise, like every step he took had already been planned months ago.

“Get up,” he said.

Calm voice.

Too calm.

Nora unbuckled herself and helped Lia with hers. Lia’s small fingers trembled. Nora kissed her forehead. “Stay close to me, okay?”

The jet door opened with a hiss.

Nora flinched. The air felt like a physical reminder, a toxic perfume of her past life.

Cold night air swept in, carrying the faint scent of fuel and ocean water. They stepped onto the metal stairs, and the moment Nora’s foot touched the ground, she felt it—

Something was wrong.

Armed men lined the tarmac. Black suits. Earpieces. Blank expressions. They stood in two perfect lines, forming a path like they were waiting for royalty.

Or a god.

Lia pressed into Nora’s side. “Why are there so many?”

Before Nora could answer, a man approached Lorenzo and bowed slightly.

“Welcome back, sir.”

His voice shook.

Just barely, but Nora heard it.

No one used to tremble around Lorenzo.

They feared him, yes, but not like that.

None of them could even look him in the eye.

“Everything is prepared,” the man said.

Lorenzo nodded once. “Take them to the house.”

Them.

Not “her.”

Not “Nora.”

Them.

She and Lia together.

Nora swallowed, her panic rising. “Where are you taking us?”

Lorenzo looked at her slowly, like someone considering whether to answer an insect.

“Home.”

Her blood iced. " I don't have a home here. "

He stepped closer. ”Don't get me pissed off,” he said, whispering in her ears.

Nora stepped back without thinking.

Lorenzo’s eyes flickered, something sharp, almost amused.

Lia tightened her grip on Nora. “Nora… let’s go,” she whispered.

Nora forced a smile looking at the

Three identical, armor-plated black SUVs, flanked by a dozen heavily armed men dressed in dark tactical gear. The level of security was chilling, designed not just for protection, but for intimidation.

"Get in," Lorenzo commanded, gesturing to the open door of the middle SUV.

It wasn't a request.

Nora hesitated for a second, looking at the armed men. There was no running. Not here. Not with Lia.

She ushered Lia inside. The leather seats were cold, smelling of new car and old money. Nora slid in next to her, pulling her sister close.

Lorenzo got in last. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud, sealing them in silence. The tinted windows turned the world outside into a dark blur.

The convoy moved.

No one spoke. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the soft sound of Lia’s breathing. She had buried her face in Nora’s coat tirelessly, hiding from everything.

Nora didn't hide. She watched him.

Lorenzo sat relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, typing on his phone. The blue light from the screen lit up his face.

It lit up those eyes.

Blue.

Cold and wrong.

He felt her staring. He didn't look up, but a small smirk played on his lips. "Take a picture, Nora. It lasts longer."

"When did you start wearing contacts? " She asked, her voice tight. "You never wore them before."

Lorenzo stopped typing. He locked the phone and slid it into his pocket. He looked at her then, really looked at her.

"People change," he said coldly. "Same way, your long hair was cut short,” he said.

The air in the car got heavy.

Nora’s stomach twisted. "You're enjoying this."

"Immensely," he replied.

He reached into the mini-fridge next to him and pulled out a bottle of water. He offered it to Lia.

"For the girl," he said.

Lia peeked out, eyes wide. She looked at Nora for permission. Nora nodded stiffly. Lia took the bottle while shaking hands. " I'm not grateful,"she whispered.

"You're welcome, pequeña," he said. The Spanish rolled off his tongue perfectly, smoothly. Lia rolled her eyes with attitude.The car slowed down.

Nora looked out the window. Her heart stopped.

The iron gates. The stone lions. The long winding driveway lined with trees that looked like skeletons in the dark.

The Estate.

She knew this place. She knew the screams the walls had heard. She knew the basement.

"No," she whispered, her hand gripping the door handle. "Not here. Anywhere but here."

Lorenzo leaned forward. His face was close now, his voice a low rumble.

"Where else would we go?" he asked. "The King is back in his castle. And he brought his Queen home."

The car stopped.

The door opened from the outside.

"Welcome to hell, Nora," Lorenzo smirked, his blue eyes shining with excitement in the dark.

He stepped out into the night.

Nora sat frozen for a heartbeat.

This was it.

The night air was thick. Humid. It clung to Nora’s skin like a wet sheet.

She stepped onto the gravel, holding Lia’s hand so tight her knuckles turned white.

The house loomed over them. Stone and shadow. It wasn’t a home. It was a mausoleum for the living.

Guards stood by the massive oak doors. Statues with assault rifles. They didn’t blink. They didn’t breathe.

A man stepped out from the shadows of the portico.

Hector.

Nora’s breath hitched. She remembered him. Lorenzo’s right hand. The man who broke fingers like they were twigs.

But he looked different.

A fresh scar ran down his left cheek. His eyes, usually dead and flat, held something new.

Fear.

He wouldn’t look at Lorenzo. He stared at the ground.

“Boss,” Hector said. His voice was rough, like gravel in a mixer. “Welcome back.”

Lorenzo walked past him without breaking stride. He didn’t even look at him or even answer him.

He walked into the house like he owned the air inside it. Nora had no choice. She followed behind.

The foyer was exactly as she remembered.

Black marble floors.

Crystal chandelier, glittering like frozen tears.

The smell of expensive wax and cold silence.

Lorenzo stopped in the center of the room. He turned slowly.

“Take the girl to the East Wing,” he said.

Nora’s heart stopped.

“No,” she said. Her voice echoed too loud in the empty hall. She pulled Lia behind her. “She stays with me.”

Lorenzo looked at her. He didn’t look angry. He looked bored.

“I wasn’t asking, Nora.”

He snapped his fingers.

Two maids appeared from the shadows. They didn’t look like maids. They looked like jailers in aprons. They moved fast.

“Nora!” Lia screamed, grabbing Nora’s waist.

“Don’t touch her!” Nora shouted. She slapped a hand away.

Lorenzo moved.

Fast. Too fast.

One second he was five feet away. The next, his hand was wrapped around Nora’s wrist. His grip was iron.

He pulled her close. His face inches from hers. She could smell his cologne sandalwood and smoke.

“Make a scene,” he whispered, his blue eyes burning, “and she sleeps in the cage.”

He tilted his head.

“Test me and see what I can do."

Nora froze. She looked at Lia. The terror in her sister's eyes broke her.

She couldn’t fight him. Not yet.

“It’s okay,” Nora said, her voice shaking. She looked at Lia. “Go with them, baby. It’s okay. I’ll come find you.”

Lia sobbed, but she let go. The maids took her hands gently, because Lorenzo was watching—and led her up the winding stairs.

Nora watched until she was gone.

A piece of her heart went up those stairs.

She turned back to Lorenzo. Hate boiled in her gut, hot and sour.

“I hate you,” she spat.

Lorenzo smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Good,” he said. “Hate keeps you warm, and that's what I want.”

He turned and walked toward the double doors at the end of the hall. The library.

“Come,” he commanded.

Nora stood still.

He stopped. He didn’t turn around. “Don’t make me drag you, Nora. It ruins the floor.”

She walked.

Her heels clicked on the marble. The sound of a prisoner walking to the gallows.

He opened the doors.

The library was dark. Smell of old paper and brandy.

“Why are we here?” Nora asked.

Lorenzo walked to his desk. He picked up a remote and pressed a button.

The wall behind the desk slid open.

A hidden room.

Nora stepped back. She knew about the safe room. But she didn’t know about this.

Inside, rows of clothes hung on racks. Beautiful, shimmering gowns. Jewels sparkled under soft lights.

It was a closet.

A dressing room for a doll.

“Get changed,” Lorenzo said. He picked up a glass of whiskey from the desk and took a sip.

“Changed?” Nora asked. “For what?”

He turned to her. The blue eyes caught the light, looking almost glowing.

" Because we're heading out," he said, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

" To where? It's already late," Nora asked curiously.

" You'll know once we get there, so dress up,"he said.

" "I'll have to shower first," she said, biting her lip. The dress felt heavy in her hands, a costume for a play she didn't want to act in.

Lorenzo pointed at another door in the dressing room. "There's a bathroom over there."

"Okay," she replied nervously. But she didn't move. She stood rooted to the spot, clutching the silk.

Lorenzo paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. He frowned slightly, eyebrows raised. "Why are you still standing there?"

"Because I'm waiting for you to leave," she said, her voice shaking but defiant.