The front door clicked open.
Eleni strolled into the house like it was any other normal Saturday evening. Cargo pants back on. Hoodie up. Sneakers squeaking.
She even hummed.
The house was unusually quiet. Suspiciously quiet.
She glanced at the couch—empty.
The kitchen? Pristine.
She passed the hallway, eyebrows raised. No bickering. No Nerf gun ambush. No Antonio trying to fight someone over cereal.
Weird.
She made it all the way to the stairs before she heard it.
"Eleni."
Her foot froze mid-step.
Lorenzo's voice. Calm. Too calm.
She turned around.
And there they were.
All nine of them.
Matteo, back early from law school, leaning against the wall like he paid the mortgage.
Enzo, arms crossed, motorcycle keys spinning around his finger.
Leonardo, stone-faced with a mug of espresso and a single raised eyebrow.
Lorenzo—her own twin—with the ultimate betrayed-sibling face.
Antonio, Marco, the tech twins Francesco & Giovanni, and even little Nico (arms crossed like a disappointed 12-year-old dad).
Lined up like a mafia panel.
Matteo spoke first.
"So… how was Lilith's?"
Eleni didn't flinch. "It was good. We studied. Watched a movie. Ate snacks."
Enzo smiled. "That's cute. You wear lipstick to eat snacks now?"
Eleni blinked. "Excuse me?"
Leonardo held up the photo booth strip like it was evidence in court.
Her heart dropped.
Leonardo held up the photo booth strip like it was evidence in court.
Her heart dropped.
Lorenzo: "You kissed Noah Lee?! In a tube top?!"
Nico: "Knee socks, Lorenzo. You forgot the knee socks."
Antonio looked like someone had killed his dog. "We raised you better."
Francesco pulled out his phone and muttered, "I'm texting Nonna."
Eleni's eyes widened. "Don't you dare."
Giovanni whispered, "She's not gonna make you lemon cookies anymore."