TEMPTED BY MY MAFIA STEPBROTHER

Silvia pov

“Silvia, it is the summer holiday; you're not expected to leave this house, do you hear me?” My mom's voice echoed from the Kitchen. I ignored it, scattering it through my wardrobe; I just needed to leave the house; always getting this silly summer holiday with my stepdad being around sucks. I can't even think of anything other than strangling him to death.

“Did you hear me, Silvia?”

“Isn’t it obvious that I don’t care about whatever you say now mom? ” I yelled out loud not minding how my mom took it.

The smell of my mom’s cooking wafted from the kitchen, blending with an unsettling scent that I couldn’t quite put my finger on—one that had lingered since my step dad moved in.

“Silvia, I said don’t even think about it!” Mom’s voice cut through the air, sharp and demanding as usual. It was frustrating how she never saw what I saw or heard the things he said when she wasn’t around. His soft comments and the smirks he thought no one noticed were all too evident to me. I couldn’t stand him—I truly despised him, and I refused to share space with someone who made my skin crawl.

Pulling a t-shirt over my head, I felt my hands shake with frustration. I didn’t want to be here, confined with him. The thought of spending summer under the same roof—with him around—was unbearable.

“You can’t do this, Silvia! You’re staying here with us for the holidays, got it?!” Her voice escalated, slicing through the tension like a knife. I realized she didn’t understand my feelings, nor did she seem to care about the toxic environment I was being forced to endure.

I took a deep breath, needing to ground myself at this moment. I was done allowing my emotions to bubble over. I am not staying here—no matter what.

I grabbed my shoes and practically tossed them into my bag. With determination guiding my steps, I headed for the door, barely sparing a glance at my mother. I was making a choice for myself, and I wasn’t going to let her outburst deter me.

“Did you hear me, Silvia?” she called after me, her voice softer but still insistent. I knew I had to stand firm in my decision.

I paused at the door, acutely aware of her gaze piercing through me. I turned slightly, determined to confront her. “Mom, stop screaming. It won’t change anything.”

She stepped closer, her face a mask of fury. “I’m your mother. You will listen to me, Silvia.”

My hands clenched at my sides, unwavering. “I don’t care.”

“I’m not staying here with you and him.”

The bitterness of those words stung, but I refused to sugarcoat my feelings. I loathed my stepfather, and it was time to be honest about it. This situation was intolerable, suffocating me day by day.

“You know what it’s high time I made you understand that the man you married , yes my stepfather can never earn my trust because he’s a psycho and very soon you’ll get to understand what an evil person he is. ”

I shot these words at my mom knowing so much that it will make her furious but I don’t care anymore. All that matters to me is leaving this house and nothing will stop me.

“Don’t you dare speak about your stepfather like that!” Mom’s face flushed red, her voice quaking with familiar anger.

“I don’t care!” I shot back, my voice sharp. “Every holiday, every occasion—he ruins it.”

“I'm done, Mom. I’m going to Granny’s. You can keep the whole house to yourselves.” I emphasized the last word, letting the disdain seep through.

Just as I reached for the door, I heard her footsteps, rushing toward me with an urgency that insisted she wouldn’t let me go easily.

I halted, my hand on the doorknob, feeling the weight of her anger pressing against my back. “You never listen to me. You don’t care about my feelings.”

“Of course I care,” she said quickly, but the hesitation in her voice was unmistakable. It was the same pattern—her attention fixed on him while I felt neglected.

“Then why do you let him treat me like I don’t exist?” I turned to face her, fueled by emotion. “Why defend him when he clearly doesn’t care about me?”

Her eyes widened for a moment, betraying a flicker of guilt, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she stepped back slightly, lowering her voice but intensifying her stance.

“You’ll regret this, Silvia. You always do. You can’t just run away when things get tough. It’s time for you to grow up.”

"Grow up." Those words hit me with unexpected force. I had grown up, and it was about time she recognized that. I was finished pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.

“I’m not running away, Mom. I’m leaving because I refuse to be here with him. Every time I try to have a good moment, he ruins it. He’s a monster, and it’s infuriating that you can’t see it.”

At that moment, the door swung open, and just as I was about to step into the hallway, a voice—deep and calm—cut through the tension.

“Silvia.”

I froze. A man stood in the doorway of the living room, casting a long shadow in the dim light. He had dark hair, thick brows, and sharp features that suggested he could easily be a model. Yet, there was something magnetic about him that made me hesitate.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice steady despite the slight rush of adrenaline. It felt strange to have a stranger in my house.

He smiled, an easy confidence radiating from him. “My name’s Derek,” he said smoothly, with a hint of a Moroccan accent. “I’m here to see your stepfather. He’s expecting me.”

The mention of my stepfather twisted my stomach. I stepped around him, refusing to let him distract me from my intention to leave.

“I don’t care who you are,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze for a brief moment. I needed to escape this suffocating situation.

But Derek's voice followed me, calm but insistent. “You don’t have to leave, you know. You can stay; we’re meant to be a family. I guess I came just in time.”

I didn’t look back. My grip on the door handle tightened as I steadied myself. “I don’t want to stay,” I asserted, my voice clear and unwavering. “I refuse to be anywhere near him.” Deep down, I knew I wasn’t ready to dismiss the spark I felt around Derek, but my boundaries were non-negotiable.

“I won’t be leaving the house anymore, but your husband needs to understand that he won’t ruin my holiday.” I said it with conviction, turning my gaze to them, prepared to stand my ground.

T