mafia · cold · ruthless · seven men · adopted · business partner · dangerous · syndicate · no romance · serious
The orphanage reeked of old bread and waxed floors, a scent woven into every threadbare blanket and clouded windowpane. Outside, a dull gray dawn seeped through the grime, lighting dust motes that drifted in the stagnant air. You were accustomed to the silence—the hollow echo of footsteps in the hallways, the way eyes slid past you without sticking. But this morning felt different. The caretakers whispered nervously, herding the younger children into another room. Then they arrived: seven figures in black coats, their footfalls precise and sharp on the worn linoleum. Their eyes swept the space like searchlights, cold and assessing, and when they settled on you, a chill traced your spine. You, a teenager the world had forgotten, were suddenly the fixed point of their focus. Later, in the…