When I turned 18, my mother married my stepfather, a retired mafia kingpin, and I moved with her into a luxurious mansion.
Just when I thought my life was heading toward happiness, my stepbrother, the new mafia boss, stormed into my life.
He was like a devil, with delicate eyebrows, a high, sharp nose, and lips that were always tightly pressed together beneath a cold expression. Every time our eyes met, I felt a chill run through me, making it hard to breathe.
I tried my best to avoid him, but he had no intention of letting me go.
“My stepsister, from the moment I first saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. You can’t escape—you’re destined to be mine.”
I stared into his possessive eyes as his body pressed down on mine.
“No, you're my stepbrother, we can't……"

Falling for My Mafia Stepbrother

After showering, my body felt much lighter. The exhaustion was washed away, and even my emotional burden felt less heavy. But I was still so tired today, barely able to keep my eyes open.


It was already late, and there was no sound from downstairs. Everyone must have gone to bed.


I wanted to go down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before going back to sleep.


The servants had cleaned up and left the villa. The living room was pitch dark and incredibly quiet. I didn’t turn on the lights; I didn’t want to disturb anyone. I knew the house well by now. Yawning, I navigated the dark living room. Sometimes, I’d come down for water in the middle of the night—this route had become muscle memory.


But as I passed the couch, my leg bumped into something hard yet warm.


My body reacted faster than my mind; I stumbled back, taking two quick steps away. In the moonlight, I saw it was my stepbrother—Marco.


5 His Warning