Mom sighs and reaches into her purse to retrieve an envelope, handing it to Ophelia.“I was hoping I would never have to show you this.But your mother wanted us to be happy after she was gone.”
Ophelia removes the handwritten note from the envelope and studies every word on the page.Her eyes widen, and then her gaze flicks back to the top of the page so she can reread it.
“At first, I wasn’t sure I could do it,” Mom explains, “but things have changed between your dad and me.We sought comfort in each other and ended up falling in love.”
With a snarl, Ophelia stuffs the page into the envelope and hands it back.I expect her to run again, but she stares at each of us.
Apollo stands at my side with Atlas on his right.The three of us are only one year apart in age since my younger brothers are twins.They have similarities but are not identical.Atlas has a baby face, and Apollo has a more serious look about him, like he’s much older than twenty-four.
“It’s her handwriting,” Ophelia says after a long pause, eyes downcast.“I can’t believe Mom wanted this.”
She’s coming around to the truth, the bag sliding down her shoulder as she spins to the left.Then, without another word, she heads into the dining room.
Belen lets out a sigh.“I’m sorry.”His eyes move from my mother to me and then to the twins.He lifts the bags of food and tips his head at the dining room.“Shall we eat our first meal as a family?”
I want to laugh at how easily he let us into his carefully guarded world.Look at the great and powerful Belen Drakos simping over a woman.
Dumb fucker.
He was so wracked with grief that it made him an easy target.For my mother, this arrangement is about money.But for my brothers and me, it’s about revenge.We’re here because of what Belen did to our father ten years ago.Belen doesn’t know it, but we’re coming for his empire.
And his little girl.
ChapterFour
OPHELIA
I suddenly hate moussaka,even though it’s my favorite meal.My mother would make it for me every Sunday until she got sick.Then, we started ordering from Mykonos.
We had our tradition.
Mom felt like shit toward the end, but didn’t want us to stop making memories.She said I would remember those days long after she was gone.
Mom was right.
I lived for Sundays.
They were my favorite.
Until today.
How could my dad break the news of his engagement today?Of all days.It’s not just a Sunday but the six-month anniversary of her death.I was upstairs sleeping because I was too depressed and whacked out on sleeping pills to leave my bedroom.
Before my father left the house, he promised to eat dinner with me so we could spend some quality time together.Little did I know that meant dinner with my new family.
Fuck.
Ares and his smirks.
I hate him most of all.
I’m stuck between Ares and Apollo, with Atlas on his twin’s right.Fuck Apollo and his pretty-boy good looks.And fuck Atlas and that adorable baby face.
Fuck all of them.
I stuff a forkful of moussaka, the Greek version of lasagna, into my mouth.A drop of sauce falls onto my chest, right between my cleavage.
I lick my thumb and wipe away the sauce, but not without three sets of eyes on me.
