Life of a Donna

Chapter Four

This was nothing like the plane. The entry alone screamed money—polished marble floors, towering ceilings, and a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace. I turned around to face Dad, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Your wife decorated the home,” I said, my voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. “If the plane is anything to go by.”

Without waiting for a response, I continued inside, my bag still slung over my shoulder. The grandeur was overwhelming, but I tried not to let it show. Instead, I turned back to Dad, raising an eyebrow. “Am I going to be adventuring myself, or will you be directing and touring me around? Maybe even a map, if possible.”

Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “You won’t need a map because of how smart you are,” he said, his tone equal parts teasing and proud. “But follow us to the main seating room. The rest of your brothers and my wife should be waiting for us there.” Dad continued, while coming from behind and taking the lead.

I nodded, though my stomach twisted at the thought of meeting his wife. The woman who wasn’t my mother, the woman who might see me as a threat. I pushed the thought aside, forcing a small smile as I followed behind Dad and my brothers. As we walked through the sprawling mansion, I couldn’t help but feel out of place. But I kept my head high, my expression neutral, refusing to let the discomfort show.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “how many rooms are we talking about here? Just so I know how much territory I’ll need to cover.”

Edward glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “Enough to keep you busy for a while. But don’t worry, we’ll give you the grand tour later.”

“Looking forward to it,” I replied, though my mind was already racing ahead to the meeting that awaited us. As we approached the main seating room, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was to come. I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew one thing: a new start, a new me.

Upon entering the seating room, I was struck by the stark, almost clinical arrangement of the space. Three white circular sofas were positioned in such a way that—if viewed from above—would likely form a semicircle. White, I thought, my lips twitching in mild disdain. Really? Blah.

Each sofa was flanked by end tables stained a deep, rich color, creating a stark contrast against the pale upholstery. My eyes were drawn to the group seated on one of the sofas—eight men, presumably my brothers, arranged in what I guessed was the order from eldest to youngest. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to indifference, and I felt a flicker of unease as their eyes landed on me.

On the opposite side of the room, sitting alone, was a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a glossy magazine—but one that had been left out in the sun too long. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, but there was something slightly off about her. Her face was smooth, too smooth, with the telltale tightness of Botox and a hint of plastic surgery. She was dressed impeccably, but the effort to look youthful only highlighted her age—mid-fifties, maybe older.

For a moment, I stood there, frozen, taking it all in. the sterile elegance of the room, the intimidating presence of my brothers, and the woman who was undoubtedly dad’s wife. My heart was pounding in my chest. This was it. The moment I had been dreading. I did not know how she would react to me, and the uncertainty made my stomach churn. What if she was like the others? What if she hurt me too? I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was to come.

“Well,” I said, breaking the silence with a wry smile, “this is… something.” My voice seemed to echo in the room, and for a moment, no one responded. Then she did.

“You must be Bernadette,” she said, her voice high-pitched and unnaturally smooth, like she had practiced the tone in front of a mirror. “I am your stepmother, and you can call me Mrs. Locatelli.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet her gaze. Her eyes were cold and calculating. I felt a shiver run down my spine. “It’s… nice to meet you,” I said, my voice quiet but steady. I did not trust myself to say more, not when my heart was racing.

The room was silent, the tension so thick it felt like it was pressing down on me. I glanced at my brothers, who were all watching the exchange with varying degrees of curiosity and apprehension. One of them shifted uncomfortably, while another looked like he was holding his breath.

Dad stepped forward on his way over to his wife, his presence a grounding force amidst the tension. “Bernadette,” he said, his tone calm but firm, “this is my wife and the rest of your brothers.”

I nodded. I was not going to let my fear show. Not here, not now. Mrs. Locatelli’s lips curved into a tight smile, but it did not reach her eyes. “Well,” she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness, “I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine.”

I forced a small nod, though my stomach twisted at her words. I didn’t trust her. Maybe not ever. But for now, all I could do was stand my ground and hope that this family wouldn’t break me anymore than I already was.

I was surprised to see four more men sitting on the remaining sofa placed between the other two. Edward and Isaiah moved to stand behind their brothers. I hesitated near the doorway, carefully positioning myself far enough into the room to not appear rude but close enough to the exit that I could retreat if needed. My heart was racing, and I could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. I did not want to give her—Mrs. Locatelli—any more ammunition than she already had.

The room was silent, the tension so palpable it felt like I could reach out and touch it. I kept my posture straight, my hands clasped tightly in front of me to hide their trembling. My gaze flicked briefly to Dad, who stood a few feet away, his expression calm but watchful.

“So, this is my daughter, your sister, Bernadette,” Dad began, his voice steady but warm. He gestured to the men seated around the room, his gaze sweeping over them before landing back on me. “Bernadette, my remaining sons, in birth order: Oliver, Anthony and Michael—who are twins—Corey, Timothy, Justin, and finally Gerard and Matthew, who are also twins.”

My eyes flicked to each of them as he named them, trying to memorize their faces and the subtle differences between them. Oliver, the eldest, had a quiet intensity about him, while the twins, Anthony and Michael, seemed almost identical except for the way they carried themselves. Corey looked serious, Timothy a bit more relaxed, and Justin had a mischievous glint in his eye. The youngest twins, Gerard and Matthew, were still watching me with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Dad turned slightly, gesturing to the other sofa. “And on the remaining sofa, we have Don Alejandro Venetia, his two underbosses, Diageo and Rafael, and finally, the head of security, Raul.”

My gaze shifted to the men on the second sofa. Don Alejandro Venetia was an imposing figure, his presence commanding even in silence. Diageo and Rafael flanked him, their expressions unreadable, while Raul, the head of security, sat with the kind of alertness that suggested he was always ready for action.

I waited a moment, taking in the sea of faces and names, trying to anchor each one in my mind. It was overwhelming, to say the least, but I didn’t want to make a mistake. Not here, not now. Finally, I spoke, my voice soft but steady. “It’s… nice to meet all of you.”

Oliver was the first to respond, giving me a small nod. “Welcome, Bernadette,” he said, his tone polite but reserved.

The others murmured similar greetings, though their expressions ranged from curiosity to ambivalence. Gerard and Matthew exchanged a quick glance but didn’t say anything. From the second sofa, Don Alejandro Venetia inclined his head slightly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turned his attention back to Dad. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. This is my family now—or at least, the family I was supposed to belong to. It was a lot to take in, and I wasn’t sure where I fit in this puzzle yet.

Taking advantage of the silence, I decided to address Don Alejandro directly. I knew this moment mattered—not just for me, but for how I’d be perceived in this new world. My heart was pounding, but I kept my voice steady, my tone respectful.

“Don Alejandro, Diageo, Rafael, and Raul,” I began, meeting each of their gazes. “It’s a pleasure and an honor to meet you. Dad mentioned this family was a leading one, but I didn’t expect my arrival would call for such a turnout from such important men. I didn’t think I’d have the privilege of meeting you until much later.”

The words felt formal, almost stiff on my tongue, but I hoped they conveyed the respect I intended. I could feel the weight of the room’s attention on me, the silence stretching as everyone waited for Don Alejandro’s response.

He studied me for a moment, his dark eyes sharp and unreadable. Then, a faint smile touched his lips, though it would have been easy to miss as it did not reach his eyes. “Bernadette,” he said, his voice deep and measured, “your father speaks highly of you. And from what I’ve seen so far, it seems he’s not mistaken.”

I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging his words. “Thank you, Don Alejandro. I’ll do my best to live up to that.”

His underbosses, Diageo and Rafael, exchanged a brief glance but said nothing. Raul, the head of security, gave me a small nod, his expression neutral but not unwelcoming. Dad, standing a few feet away, looked both relieved and proud. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he offered me a warm smile.

Mrs. Locatelli, however, remained silent, her expression unreadable. I could feel her gaze on me, sharp and calculating, but I refused to let it rattle me. The room remained quiet for a moment longer before one of my brothers—Corey, I think—spoke up. “Well, she’s got manners, at least,” he said, his tone teasing but not unkind.

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, breaking the tension. I allowed myself a small smile, though I was still acutely aware of the scrutiny I was under. For now, it seemed I’d passed the first test. But I knew this was just the beginning. In a family like this, every word, and every action mattered.

The room fell silent again, the weight of my words hanging in the air. I turned to face Mrs. Locatelli, her icy gaze fixed on me, unyielding. I knew this moment was crucial—not just for her, but for how I would navigate this new family dynamic.

“Mrs. Locatelli,” I began, my voice steady but soft, “I understand that my coming here could be uncomfortable for you, and I respect that. While it’s not a traditional arrangement, you are married to my dad and the mother to my brothers. I’ll respect you, if possible.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “It’s not something that’s going to be comfortable for either of us, and I know I’m… unwelcome. But I don’t want to change anything. I simply want to get to know my family.”

I stopped speaking, holding her gaze, hoping to convey sincerity despite the chill in her eyes. My heart was pounding, but I kept my expression open, my posture unassuming. I was not here to challenge her place, I just wanted a chance to belong. For a moment, she said nothing, her face unreadable. The room was so quiet I could hear the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance. Then, she tilted her head slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“We’ll see,” she said finally, her voice cool and measured. “Time will tell if you’re sincere.”

The tension in the room did not dissipate, but it shifted slightly, as if everyone had been holding their breath and could now exhale. My brothers exchanged glances, some of them looking relieved, others still wary. Dad stepped forward, his expression a mix of pride and concern. “Bernadette,” he said, his voice gentle, “thank you for that. It’s a good start.”

I offered him a small smile, though my stomach was still in knots. I knew this was just the beginning of what would likely be a long and complicated journey. Mrs. Locatelli’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she turned away, her posture as composed as ever. I did not expect her to warm up to me overnight—if ever—but at least I had made my intentions clear. For now, that would have to be enough.