I bounced higher and higher on the trampoline, my little heart bursting with the joy of my sixth birthday. The thrill of trampolining filled my veins, making me feel like I could touch the sky with every jump. The air lifted me, carrying me to new heights as I giggled with pure delight. Birthdays were the best, and trampoline parks made them even better.

Amidst my adventures, Mum called me over with a wave. Her smile was like sunshine, making my own grin stretch wider across my face. I loved it when she smiled—it made her green eyes twinkle in the corners, and it felt like a warm hug.

She told me something super exciting —she was going to get my special birthday treat, Slush Puppies. Not just any Slush Puppies, but the blue ones with lots of E-numbers. Mum said birthdays deserved lots of E-numbers to make them extra special. I didn't really like numbers in Maths class, but the ones in my slushies were different. They turned my tongue all blue, and that made me giggle. Mum only let me have them on special occasions like today though.

Pointing up at the café window where lots of parents were gathered, Mum assured me she would be within view while she was gone. She asked me to stay by the bench, promising she would be able to see me from there.

With a wave, I sent Mum off on mission Slush Puppy, while I stayed back with my best friend, Elly, by my side. Everyone thought Elly was just a stuffed bunny, but I knew better. Elly was the bestest friend in the whole universe. We shared secrets, whispered dreams, and we stayed up past bedtime talking.

Even though I had invited some friends at school to celebrate with me today, they didn't come. That's okay, though. Making friends wasn't easy, and Mum didn't have time for school activities like baking cookies or sharing school runs with other parents. But Elly was always there, and that made everything okay.

Sitting on the bench, my legs swinging back and forth, I spotted an obstacle course nearby. It looked so much fun, and for the first time, there was nobody on it. The bubbling thrill inside me couldn't resist the invitation. Leaving the bench behind, I hurried towards the obstacle course, my smile stretching wider across my face. I was determined to conquer it, to show Mum just how brave and strong I could be. I wish she was here to take a picture of me and put it on the fridge at home.

But when I reached the top of the climbing frame, I felt scared. It washed over me so suddenly. The ball pit below seemed so far away, and the thought of jumping sent shivers down my spine. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn't hold back the choked sob that escaped me. Panic took hold of my heart, and I felt lost and unsure.

Then, out of nowhere, a man appeared beneath me, standing at the bottom of the climbing frame. He was wearing the same purple t-shirt that the friendly woman at the front desk wore. He looked younger than the others, though, but his smile was kind and gentle, like a ray of sunshine.

"Can I help?" he asked, his voice sounding soft and caring too.

His words reached my ears, and through my teary gaze, I looked down at him. There was something about him that felt comforting, like he was my very own guardian angel. Sniffing, I nodded hesitantly.

"Don't cry," he said, his voice a soothing melody. "You can trust me. I'll catch you."

Suddenly the pitch black space gave way to a blinding white light and I couldn't help but wince.

"Maddie, can you hear me?" the voice was distant, from another realm.

With great effort, I managed to half-flutter my eyes open, only to be met by a blinding white light that pierced through one of them, causing me to emit a pained whimper.

"It'll be over in just a moment," a man's voice whispered from somewhere near my head, and I felt the comforting touch of a hand resting upon mine.

Seconds later, the torturous light shifted, now targeting my other eye, and I instinctively tried to turn my head away. However, a gentle but firm grip prevented me from escaping its harsh glare.

"Good, good girl, all over," the same voice was filled with reassurance.

Though I longed to fully awaken, I remained trapped in that space between sleep and consciousness.

"Verdict, doc?"

"A mild concussion," he replied. "Otherwise responsive. Any idea what from yet?"

"We didn't get much from Isabel other than a car accident. We don't know if Maddie was involved, but it seems likely," the man's initially gentle voice took on a darker tone, tinged with unmistakable anger.

A distressed sound involuntarily escaped my lips upon the mention of Isabel's name and perhaps the anger in the man's voice, but he swiftly acknowledged my distress and gently hushed me.

"Shh, back to sleep," he soothed in a calming manner, his anger subsiding as he stroked my hair rhythmically. Whether intentional or not, his touch was gradually lulling me back into the embrace of slumber.

"I see," the doctor's voice was full of professional concern. "I'd prefer her to be more awake to determine the specific circumstances."

"Understood. We'll keep waking her up every four to six hours."

"She should wake up naturally by then. If she doesn't, you know where I am."

"Will do. Harley should be landing in an hour or so."

At the mention of the name 'Harley,' my ears perked up, momentarily piquing my curiosity. However, the allure of sleep tugged at me relentlessly, pulling me deeper into its comforting realm.

"Good. I'll stick around downstairs to update him on her condition."

"Thanks, Doc. We owe you."

"Not at all. We're all just relieved she's home."

As the voices gradually faded away, the person by my side continued to stroke my hair with tenderness, their touch serving as an inadvertent lullaby, beckoning me into the realm of dreams.

My bottom lip quivered as I glanced down at the man and the considerable distance between us. But the man lifted his arms, closing the gap just a little bit, and it gave me a glimmer of hope.

"Do you want me to help your elephant down first?" he asked, his eyes filled with the same tenderness to her that he showed towards me.

I let out a small giggle, feeling comforted by his presence. "She's a bunny!"

"So she is," he said with a playful wink. "What's her name?"

"Elly. She's scared," I replied in a hushed whisper, as if sharing a secret. I didn't want Elly to hear me.

"That's okay, because I think Elly's also brave," he assured me with a gentle smile.

"Yeah," I agreed, a spark of courage igniting within me. Taking a deep breath, I mustered all of the bravery I could find. "Don't drop her," I said seriously.

"I would never," he replied, his voice brimming with sincerity. "I pinky promise."

Just as our pinky fingers were about to connect, a sudden and piercing shout echoed through the air, slicing through the tranquility of the moment. "Harley!"

Startled, I lifted my gaze towards the window where Mum was supposed to be. But what I saw there filled me with an indescribable dread. Her face, usually warm and comforting, was contorted with panic. Her hands beat against the glass in a frantic rhythm, as if she were trapped in a nightmare. The name she used was beating at me like her own hands - I recognised it from somewhere. Where?

I reached out towards mum, my trembling hand suddenly covered in a sticky, crimson liquid. Blood. It stained my small fingers, causing a surge of fear to ripple through my body. The sight made me pause, my heart pounding in my chest.

My eyes darted down to where the man had been standing moments ago. Harley. But he was gone, replaced by a lifeless figure lying on the ground. Isabel. Her vacant, dark eyes bore into me, telling a chilling story without words.

I leaned over the edge of the climbing frame, desperately yearning to reach out to her, to bring her back. But an invisible force held me back, my body paralyzed by fear. Why couldn't I go to her? Why was I trapped?

Frantically, I wiped my blood-stained hands against the wooden frame, as if trying to rid myself of the horrifying reality. I searched around, hoping to find the man who had offered comfort before. But he had vanished, leaving me alone in this distorted trampoline park, where colors blurred and sounds turned into a haunting melody.

Suddenly, the piercing screech of tires shattered the air, ripping through the silence like a jagged knife. My attention snapped back to Mum, still pounding against the window, her eyes wide with terror. The world around me dissolved into chaos, as if reality itself had unraveled.

In a split second, the familiar café behind the glass window transformed into a nightmarish inferno. Flames licked hungrily at the walls, devouring everything in their path. The realization struck me with a brutal force, stealing my breath away.

"Maddie!" Mum's voice sliced through the cacophony, a desperate plea for help. Her fists hammered against the glass, the sound echoing in my ears.

She needed me, but I was frozen at the top of the climbing frame, imprisoned by my own fear. The fire encroached closer, billowing thick smoke that clouded my vision. Through the haze, I could glimpse Mum's anguished face, her eyes begging for my rescue. But I couldn't move. I was trapped, powerless to save her.

Tears streamed down my face as I watched her fade away into the engulfing smoke, her calls for help fading into a whisper. The weight of my helplessness crashed over me like an overwhelming wave. I couldn't save her.

Startled, I awoke, my eyes flew open as confusion clouded my senses. Where was I? Gasping for air, my chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Beads of sweat dotted my forehead as the memories of the nightmare washed over me like crashing waves. A nagging discomfort tugged at my neck, and I instinctively reached up to soothe it, only to wince at the lingering ache.

A soft rustling sound emanated from the corner of the room, where a window allowed a sliver of dim light to filter in. I strained my eyes, gradually making sense of the shape of an old armchair and a figure stirring upon it. My heart pounded in my chest, and I swiftly sat up, shuffling backward until my back met the support of the headboard, a sharp twinge of pain shooting through my ribs.

"Maddie?" The figure rose from the armchair, and recognition flooded my senses. It was Mason, the man I had encountered the previous night.

Curling in on myself, I mustered the courage to speak, "Don't hurt me."

He froze in his tracks, his silhouette outlined against the darkened sky beyond the window. The night still blanketed us, obscuring the time. Was it the same day? The evening? Or had I been asleep for days?

Taking a tentative step closer, Mason sensed my apprehension, causing me to inch further back, seeking refuge against the sturdy headboard. Fear amplified my instinct for self-preservation.

"Just turning on the lights," he reassured me, his hand finding the switch and filling the room with a gentle, warm glow. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the soft, comforting hues as I surveyed the surroundings.

Curiosity stirred within me, and I summoned the courage to inquire, my voice barely above a whisper, "Where am I?"

The room unfolded before my eyes—a beautiful, spacious guest bedroom adorned with beige walls, a large armchair by the window, a desk, and a door that likely led to an en-suite bathroom. It surpassed any space I had ever seen, its size exceeding necessity, yet still giving a surprisingly cozy ambiance.

Mason redirected my attention from my disorientation with a gentle question, "How are you feeling?"

I snapped my eyes back to him, taking in his appearance. He still wore the same suit from last night, except his dark jacket now hung over the arm of the chair by the window. His white shirt was slightly ruffled, and I sensed that he was a man who preferred things in order. So, it surprised me to see him looking slightly disheveled.

"What am I doing here?" I asked again, refocusing on the matter at hand.

"What do you remember from last night?"

Argh. Would he not just answer my question?

"I don't know," I replied, my mind racing as the memories of the previous day came tumbling back. Car chases, the accident, my mom's death, Isabel's death, gunshots, kidnapping, Elijah, a needle... I paused, my hand instinctively reaching for my tender neck. My eyes shot to Mason, and ignoring any self-preservation, a surge of anger overcame me.

"You drugged me."

"Ah," he said, understanding filling his face. I couldn't tell if his blue eyes shuttering slightly indicated guilt or a mere recollection. "It was necessary, I'm afraid. You were going to run us off the road or hurt yourself further," he explained, his gaze meaningful as he glanced down at my battered hands and knees.

Following his gaze, I realized that I was still in the clothes I wore the previous night, minus my shoes and light summer jacket. My shorts and t-shirt were torn, dirty, unrecognizable from the outfit I had chosen for a beach day in Sicily with my mum less than twenty-four hours ago. Tears welled up at the thought, and my throat tightened. I would give anything to turn back time. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast?

"How about changing into something more comfortable for sleeping?" he suggested, interrupting my thoughts. His voice held a gentle tone, as if he could sense my inner turmoil.

I gave myself a mental pep talk, reminding myself to stay strong. I couldn't afford to wallow in grief or self-pity over what had already happened. It was done. Nothing would change that. Now, all I could do was seek answers.

It struck me as ironic that the man who had kidnapped and drugged me was now concerned about my comfort. I welcomed the confusion and anger swirling inside me, hoping that focusing on those emotions would distract me from the overwhelming grief. I straightened my shoulders.

"Tell me who you are," I demanded, meeting his gaze head-on.

He gave me a measured look, seemingly seeing straight through my bravado. "I'd prefer it if you got some more rest first."

"I just slept."

"It's nine-thirty. Elijah should be up soon with some food. Will you eat first?" he proposed, offering a compromise.

"Okay," I began, momentarily swayed by his reasonable voice. Then, remembering my pep talk, I backtracked with more strength, "Wait, no. Tell me who you are."

He took a few steps forward, and despite my reservations, I allowed him to approach. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward the bed, seeking permission to sit.

I shrugged my shoulders, pretending it didn't bother me. But as he settled down, just inches away, I couldn't help but shuffle backward slightly. Mason's blue eyes remained fixed on me, and I knew I had given myself away. I also noticed, as I peeked at his eyes, that they bore a remarkable similarity to my own. Although where mine were more the colour of the ocean with a little teal, Mason's were pure midnight, the colour of the night sky when the stars came out.

I waited for him to say something, but he didn't seem to be in a rush. His intense gaze made me uncomfortable, as if he could see right through me, shattering any facade I tried to maintain.

"Stop it," I blurted out, overwhelmed by the intensity of his scrutiny.

"Stop what?" he inquired, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

That... that... infuriating man. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Looking at me like that," I mumbled.

He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Looking at you like family?"

A dead silence followed.

I froze, my heart catching over a beat. It couldn't be possible. Yet, if it were such an outrageous concept, why did his words trigger something deep within me?

Shock enveloped me, and the only word I managed to stammer was, "W-what?"

"You're our sister, Maddie."

Sister. The word triggered a flicker of recognition, a faint memory from last night. Sorellina. Was that the word Mason used? Suddenly, fragmented recollections of Isabel's final words surged to the forefront of my mind. Something about family. Fratelli. Is this what Isabel was trying to tell me? Warn me? Was this what my mother meant when she told me Isabel would bring me home? Was this my home? Were these brothers?

"No," I said, paralyzed by the enormity of this situation.

"No?"

Think rationally, Maddie. Ignore your body. Use your head. You're an only child. Your mother told you that.

"You're not. I... I don't have siblings," I insisted.

"But you do," his voice was low yet persistent. "You have six."

"Six siblings?" I repeated, incredulous. I attempted a half-hearted chuckle, hoping to downplay the impact, but it sounded feeble even to my own ears.

"Six brothers."

My mouth gaped open in astonishment, and my mind struggled to process the magnitude of this revelation. How could it be true? How could I have siblings I knew nothing about? Nothing made sense. The next question was inevitable.

"Prove it," I demanded, my voice quivering with doubt.

"Are our eyes not proof enough?"

His tone sounded almost testing, but I couldn't deny the impact his words had on me. As I gazed at him, I noticed something else. He also had my dark hair. Actually, now that I thought about it, his ears curved at the same place as mine too.

Damn it.

Still, I stubbornly refused to acknowledge our similarities.

He sighed. "Fortunately, I anticipated that you might have questions."

I glanced back at him as he reached for a folder he had brought with him and placed on the bed. He handed it to me, and I accepted it warily, uncertain of its contents and whether it held the answers I desperately sought.

"Open it," he suggested, nodding toward the folder.

With hesitant movements, I complied, my hands trembling slightly as I unveiled a birth certificate on the first page. Madison Costello. I closed my eyes briefly, fearing and hoping that the name would disappear. But when I opened my eyes again, it was still there, staring back at me in bold black print. Madison Costello. Another name instantly sprang of the page and I had to hold my hands steady not to scream into the folder. Abigail Costello. The name was unrecognisable, because my mother was always Williams to me. Abigail Williams. Just as I was Madison Williams. Was.

But it was the third name that held my gaze captive.

Santino Costello.

Father. My father. My stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Questions I had pleaded with my mother to answer as a young child about my father were now right in front of me, readily available, and it was overwhelming.

"You might hate me, but I promise, everything we did was for you."

I quickly turned the page, seeking an escape, but in reality, I was merely descending deeper into the rabbit hole. The next page, with the same two parental names and signatures, featured a different child: Mason Costello. I turned again. Elijah. And like clockwork, the next four pages, all with the same parents listed, presented different names: Blake, Harley, Cole, Xander.

No. No.

Overwhelmed by the weight of this newfound reality, I promptly closed the folder, struggling to process the truth contained within its pages.

"This doesn't prove anything," I bit out, the hurt in my voice palpable, though we both knew the truth, even if I refused to accept it.

His silent reaction frustrated me. It would have been easier to confront him if he challenged me. But he didn't. He remained infuriatingly patient.

"You could have forged them," I argued.

It appeared he had anticipated another argument from me, as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his black leather wallet. What was he going to do? Pay me off to convince me? Instead, he opened it, revealing a black matte-finished business card tucked into the left sleeve.

"Your business card?" I scoffed, my voice filled with lingering doubt.

With deliberate movements, he removed it and set it aside. Behind it, a crumpled photograph awaited my gaze. Unfolding it, he handed it to me, unveiling an image of six boys and a little girl. A little girl with navy eyes and dimples, her smile radiant. In that moment, as I stared at the faces captured in the worn photograph, tears welled up in my eyes, emotions rushing through me like a tidal wave.

I looked up at him. His silence was confirmation enough. But it was the tenderness in his eyes that undid me. I quickly averted my gaze, but there was no way he could have missed the tears forming. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Tears of frustration, tears of grief, tears of overwhelming emotions pushed their way out, and all at once, I choked on a sob.

Well, there was no turning back.

"You're really my brother?" I choked out the words, a mixture of disbelief and uncertainty.

He nodded, unable to find the right words or choosing to remain quiet for my sake, allowing me to navigate my own whirlwind of emotions. Probably not the wisest decision.

As the emotions within me battled for control and power—grief, sadness, relief, pain, exhaustion—one emotion seemed to triumph. One that promised no vulnerability and served as a trusted shield against tears. Anger.

"You... You drugged me! You drugged your own sister!" I exclaimed, anger and hurt colliding in a fierce battle.

I caught a momentary surprise on his face at my chosen response, but he quickly masked it.

"Technically, we sedated you," he clarified, his voice composed, though a hint of regret seeped through.

"You kidnapped me!"

"Semantics," he countered, using my own words against me.

IIn a more coherent state, perhaps I could have conjured a suitable comeback, but now, devoid of energy and lacking stamina, all I could do was stare at him. Stare at my brother. The family I never knew. My eyes searched for a connection. All I could do was numb myself to the emotions. Anger was too exhausting. Grief was too painful. Relief was too bewildering. But numbness—I could manage that.

"Why... why didn't Mum ever tell me about you?" I asked, my voice quivering.

His midnight eyes softened. "She had her reasons."

"You might hate me, but I promise, everything we did was for you."

My emotions were a tangled mess of confusion, disbelief, and a flicker of hope. I wanted to trust Mason, to believe his words, but the enormity of the situation made it difficult.

I gazed down at the photo, tracing the contours of their faces with my fingers, absorbing the reality that I had a family I never knew existed. Questions flooded my mind, threatening to overwhelm me.

"But... why? Why didn't you make an effort to find me? To be a part of my life?" I asked, the hurt seeping into my voice, causing me to avert my eyes. It was easier to grapple with the situation without direct eye contact.

"Maddie, I understand that this is a lot to take in," Mason said, his voice gentle. "But trust me, none of us chose this separation willingly. There were circumstances beyond our control."

"I was three," I murmured, remembering his comment about it being ten years. I looked at him, my eyes an ocean of desperation and vulnerability. "Did you miss me?"

In that moment, the façade that masked his own emotions crumbled, caught off guard by my inquiry. I witnessed the regret, the sorrow, and the pain etched upon his features, and just as I was certain he was about to respond, a resounding knock on the door fractured the trance we were in.

"Come in," Mason finally said, his voice filled with a mixture of resignation and relief.

The door swung open, revealing Elijah, the kind-hearted man I had met the previous night. He paused, his eyes filled with the same comforting warmth I distinctly remembered.

"Maddie..."

Interrupted by the resounding thud of heavy footsteps reverberating down the corridor, Elijah shot a look to Mason.

"Dinner's still in the oven," Elijah started. "Does she..."

"She knows."

"Good," Elijah nodded, stealing a quick glance down the corridor. "I tried to keep them back for as long as-"

"Where's my baby sister?" a loud voice interrupted, growing closer as the footsteps neared.

The door swung open, and my heart skipped a beat. It's rhythm jolted as if a rollercoaster had abruptly screeched to a halt. I willed myself to move, to react, to do something, but my mind and body were disconnected, leaving me rooted to the headboard.

"...to buy as much time as possible," Elijah finished, his tone heavy with regret, stepping aside as two men entered the room.

My heart raced as I locked eyes with the first man, who seemed to be in his late teens or early twenties. He stole my attention completely as he rushed towards me.

"Careful," Mason's voice, quiet yet stern, interjected, causing the man to abruptly halt by the bed, his gaze firmly fixed on me.

For a moment, we simply stared at each other, his emerald eyes mirroring those of Elijah and our mother. Of course, he had her eyes too. He resembled a carefree surfer with shaggy sandy blonde hair, a boyish face, and the infectious joy that erupted across his features.

"You're here," he said quietly, replacing Mason by my side and enveloping me in a tight embrace.

My ribs protested against the tightness, and Mason's observant gaze caught the wince that escaped my lips.

"Cole," Mason cautioned.

The name suited him perfectly—Cole, my brother.

When Cole made a subtle move to release me, a surge of determination coursed through me, refusing to let him go. I clung onto him tightly, my arms enveloping him. Resting my head against his shoulder, I drowned out the world around us, with nothing but the thunderous rhythm of my own heartbeat echoing in my temples and the deep breaths escaping the man who held me, as if afraid I might vanish into thin air at any moment.

We remained locked in that embrace, those precious moments, for what felt like an eternity until the hushed words he whispered in my ear gradually registered.

"You're home. You're safe. You're home."

His voice resonated with joy and genuine relief, and his contagious smile stirred up a giddy feeling within me. Despite everything that had gone wrong, in that moment, something felt undeniably right.

But that feeling slowly dissipated when I turned my gaze to the other man standing in the doorway. If the folder of certificates were anything to go by, this must have been Xander.

The contrast between the twins couldn't have been more striking. Apart from sharing the same shade of green eyes and similar heights, the similarities ended there. This man had dark brown hair, a collection of tattoos adorning one arm, and an imposing stature. He exuded an air of indifference, his body withdrawn. Yet his body, taut with tension, betrayed his indifference, with clenched hands at his side giving away that he was on the verge of exploding.

Our eyes met, and his green orbs blinked, as though he couldn't quite believe it was me, before he averted his gaze.

And as I basked in the warmth of one twin's embrace, an icy chill coursed through me as I watched as the other silently turn on his heel and exit the room without uttering a single word, leaving behind a palpable tension in his wake.

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A/N: Happy Tuesday everyone! How's your week going?

What do you think of Mason? He's a little different this time round... spot the difference? Do you prefer him? And we meet the infamous twins. Could Cole and Xander be more different??

And Harley is trampoline man... do you think it's just a dream or a flashback? Questions will be answered in chapter 3!

I love reading your comments and will try get back to all of them! They make my day! Please also vote if you're able💜