Where I Belong - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Sitting in the back of Officer Jones' car, heading off to the new place I would be living, felt surreal. This was a situation I never thought I would find myself in.
What would my brothers be like? Do they even want to take me in or do they feel obligated to? Would they expect me to follow the same rules my mother and Roger imposed on me?
I wasn't sure how long the drive was but I could feel the car slowing as it approached a massive gated property. It looked more like a mansion than the ordinary house I was expecting. My hands were sweating, and my heart was racing as I tried to take in the sight of it.
Office Jones fiddled with her phone, and a moment later, the gates swung open, prompting her to drive through.
"Here we are", she said softly, turning toward me with a small, reassuring smile.
I barely had time to react before she was out of the car and opening my door. We walked towards the front entrance, and before we could even knock, the door opened.
Standing there was a man who radiated authority – tall, broad-shouldered, with dark eyes which held such intensity that even Officer Jones had to look away.
"Mr Romano", Officer Jones greeted him.
The man - whose first name I still didn't know - nodded once, sharply. His eyes flickered towards me for a brief moment, then stepped aside without a word, allowing us to enter.
I hesitated before stepping into the house. I felt like I was stepping into somewhere I didn't belong in and it made me feel even smaller than I already was.
As I entered, my gaze was immediately drawn to the men in the living room. All of them were looking at me, and I wasn't sure what to do with all the attention. It felt slightly suffocating.
The first to approach me was one of the men standing by the door. He was a little shorter than the man who opened the front door, but he still stood at a rather impressive height of around 6"3. His dark hair was kept slightly messier than the other man, and his warm, brown eyes softened when they landed on mine.
"Hey", he said gently, offering a comforting smile. "You must be Olivia. I'm Elijah, your second oldest brother." His smile was so genuine that for a moment, it felt like I wasn't meeting a stranger at all.
I nodded, unsure what else to do.
"You ok?", he asked, his tone fill of concern, as though he could sense the fear radiating from me. He stepped forward, but not too close – just enough to show he wasn't a threat. "You don't have to say anything. We're all just all so happy you're here."
I nodded again, my eyes shifting back to the other men in the room.
I could just make out the end of Officer Jones' conversation with the man by the door. She gave me a quick, reassuring smile before saying goodbye and quietly telling me not to hesitate to contact her if I needed anything. As much as I appreciated the offer, I knew I would never reach out. I gave her a small nod, the only response I could offer, as she left.
The man let her out then came back into the room.
"It is good to have you back, Olivia," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "I'm Zane, your eldest brother." He glanced at the other men.
The man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, locked his eyes with mine and was next to break the silence. "Theo, third oldest", was all he said. He didn't smile and his demeanour remained intimidating. His muscly build suggested he worked out regularly, and I could tell just by looking at him that he was somebody you didn't mess with.
I shifted uncomfortably, my gaze dropping to the floor.
The last two brothers remained silent. One of them, sitting on the sofa, grinned the second our eyes met. He jumped to his feet, his bright energy slightly breaking the tense atmosphere.
"Hi, I'm Silas! It's so nice to have you back!" His voice was upbeat, and his bright smile almost me feel a little less out of place.
The other brother, who was sitting next to him, didn't move. His eyes were cold, fixed on me with an intensity which made my stomach tighten.
"Don't mind my twin," Silas said with a roll of his eyes. "He's just...like that."
But one sharp look from Zane had Silas quieting down and standing up straighter. Zane gave a similar look, if not a darker one, to the boy who was still seated.
"Eros", he said in a low voice before getting up and leaving the room.
Zane had a hard look on his face but before he could say anything, Elijah spoke up.
"Silas, why don't you show Olivia her room. I'm sure she's quite tired and could do with some rest before dinner", he suggested.
"Come on", Silas said, breaking the slightly awkward silence with his light tone. "I'll show you to your room. We've got plenty of space for you here."
I followed him upstairs and began walking down a long corridor, until he stopped in front of a door. Silas opened it and motioned for me to step inside.
The room was unlike anything I had ever seen. A massive four-poster bed sat in the centre, with a desk and a huge TV mounted on the wall. There were two doors to the left, one leading to a walk-in closet, the other to an en-suite bathroom.
"I'll leave you to get settled in," Silas said, pointing to a small pile of clothes on the desk. "Officer Jones left some things for you. We'll go shopping soon to get you whatever else you want and need, okay?"
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything.
"I'll come get you when dinner's ready", he added, moving towards the door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back. "I'm really glad you're here, Olivia," he said quietly, giving me a small but genuine smile before leaving and shutting the door behind him.
I didn't know what to do now I was left alone in a new room, in a new house, where I felt like I didn't belong.
I wanted to cry but I couldn't bring myself to. I wouldn't let myself be weak. And besides, nothing had happed yet to warrant tears. So far, apart from a few intense stares, no one had done anything which made me feel the way Roger and my mother did.
Being lost in my thoughts was dangerous. I could easily drown in them. I must have been stuck in my head for longer than I realised because the next thing I knew, Silas was knocking on my door to tell me that dinner was ready.
I wasn't quite sure what that meant. Did they want me to cook something? Serve them? Or would they call me downstairs to make me sit and watch them eat? I hoped it wasn't the last one. I didn't know how much longer I could go without eating, but the thought of watching them eat whilst I sat there made it feel even worse.
As we walked down the hallway, Silas filled the silence with light conversation, almost as if he knew that I needed a distraction. "So, how's the room? Is it comfortable enough? Let me know if you need anything, we should have spare things around the house in the mean time until we go shopping for you."
When I didn't reply, he stopped walking and turned around to face me. "Olivia," he said gently, "you do know you can talk to us, right? You don't have to, but you can. I'd love to talk to you more but it's totally fine if you're not ready. I've been told I talk enough for everyone anyway", he added with a teasing grin.
I hesitated. That fact that he said I could talk without consequence, felt like permission. Maybe it was okay to speak.
"It's good", I replied quietly, my voice barely rising above a whisper.
His smile softened. "Great! Once we go shopping and decorate your room however you want it, it'll feel like home in no time!"
Home. I hadn't felt that word in so long. Not with my mother and Roger and not here – not yet, at least.
"It's pasta for dinner tonight," Silas said as we descended the stairs. "I hope that's okay."
Pasta? I wasn't sure what to make of that. Was this some kind of trick? Back at the house with Roger and Mom, meals were either non-existent or whatever my mum decided to make – burnt toast or instant noodles. Those were the meals she made for Roger. I'd learned to hide my hunger, to stay as quiet as possible, so I could eat whatever was left when Roger finished. He always complained when I ate too much.
"I'm...I'm not sure I'm hungry," I whispered, my voice barely audible. The words felt like a lie, even to my own ears. I was hungry, but the idea of eating in front of them felt wrong, like something I didn't have permission to do.
Silas paused, waiting for me to catch up. His usual easygoing attitude faltered for a split second before giving me a softer smile. "That's okay, I get it. But listen - there's plenty of food and you can eat however much you want."
You can eat however much you want.
The words echoed in my mind. No one had ever said that to me before.
With Roger and my mother, food was always something to be controlled, rationed or withheld. Eating had always been about survival, not enjoyment. There was always shame attached to it, as though I needed to justify why I needed food, as though I didn't deserve to each too much of it.
"Come on", Silas continued, his voice lighter now. "It's just us and trust me, you don't want to miss Zane's cooking. It's...well it's definitely not burnt toast," he added with a small laugh.
Zane cooked?
I blinked again, almost in disbelief. The Zane I had seen in the hallway earlier – the serious, imposing figure with the cold, watchful gaze – was the one who made dinner? My throat tightened at the thought of it. I couldn't imagine him cooking.
I gave him a hesitant nod, and together we entered the dining room. The room was large but warm, filled with dim golden light from the chandelier overhead. The long dining table was set with plates, silverware, and glasses of water, all neatly arranged. The moment I entered, all of my brothers turned to look at me.
Zane was at the head of the table, his face unreadable as usual, but his presence was commanding, even when he was silent. Elijah, always the warm one, gave me a soft, welcoming smile and gestured to the empty seat beside him.
"Come on, Olivia. Sit with us," Elijah said gently, his voice as reassuring as always. "You can eat whatever you want. There's no rush."
Theo, standing beside the table with his arms crossed, nodded as well, though his gaze was slightly guarded. He had a tough exterior, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes, something I couldn't place. There was something about him which made him hard to read, like he was always observing but never fully revealing what he was thinking.
Eros was seated across from me, at the far end of the table. He didn't look up when I walked in. In fact, he hadn't even acknowledged me. When our eyes briefly met, there was nothing in his expression – no warmth, no curiosity, nothing. He just looked through me, like I wasn't even there.
"Yeah, just dig in," Silas added with a grin. "You've gotta try Zane's pasta. It's seriously legendary."
I hesitated. Every instinct in me screamed to step back, to make myself as small as possible and just watch them eat from the sidelines. I felt out of place in this massive room, surrounded by people I didn't know. But the sight of the food caught my attention, and for a moment, it was all I could focus on.
My throat tightened. I didn't know what to do.
Zane, at the head of the table, was the first to lift his fork. His movements were slow, deliberate, and almost measured, as if he was aware of how every action in this house had weight.
Elijah also picked up his fork and began eating, his eyes flickering to me as he took his first bite, as though waiting for a sign from me. He chewed slowly, his gaze flickering over me again. I could feel his eyes on me, not out of pressure, but with the patience of someone who was trying to figure out what I needed.
Theo's hands were quick, eating with an almost casual speed, as if he were focused on finishing his meal more than the atmosphere around him. But every so often, his gaze would flick up, and he'd glance at me like he was double-checking that I was okay, that I was with them.
But it was Silas, of course, who broke the silence. He didn't need an invitation to speak – his natural energy was like a constant hum, keeping things from becoming too tense.
"Okay, Liv," Silas said, his voice light and easy. "Are you just gonna sit there and stare at your plate or are you gonna eat with us?"
I blinked, my throat tightening at the question. I hadn't realised it before, but the truth was sinking in – I was waiting for permission. In my mind, I couldn't move until someone told me it was okay. I couldn't just take something. I couldn't just eat. It had always been a battle, an exchange, a negotiation where my worth had been measured by how little I needed. How little I took. How quiet I could be.
And yet, here, with these men – my brothers, though I wasn't sure how that word felt yet – I wasn't sure what the rules were. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to do something so simple as eat without first waiting for a cue.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, my fingers trembling slightly at my sides. My eyes darted between the brothers, but no one had said anything directly to me. The silence in the room felt like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest, and my stomach twisted with unease.
Zane looked up from his plate. His expression, as always, was unreadable, but his eyes softened just slightly when they met mine. It wasn't much, just a brief flicker of something that might have been understanding, or maybe it was just the natural calm that he wore so easily. He took another bite, chewing slowly, and then, after a beat, his voice rumbled low and steady, almost imperceptibly.
"You can eat, Olivia. You never have to ask for permission to eat," he said.
The words hung in the air for a moment, and for the first time, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. It was simple, but it was enough.
I hesitated for a moment longer, my eyes flicking to the food on my plate. I wasn't sure if I'd had misheard, if I was imagining things, but there it was. The permission.
Slowly, I reached for my fork, my movements cautious at first, testing the waters, making sure I wasn't about to make a mistake. I picked up a piece of pasta on my fork and ate it.
The taste was different – warmer and tastier than anything I had ever been given. It didn't taste like punishment. It didn't taste like I had done something wrong. It was just food.
Elijah smiled at me, his eyes glowing with quiet approval. "Good," he said, his tone gentle. "Take your time."
Silas leaned back in his chair with a wink. "Told you it wasn't that bad," he teased, his tone still light but with a layer of kindness that I had never heard before.
Theo glanced at me with a small nod. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and I caught a brief flicker of something unspoken, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
The pressure that had been building inside my chest began to ease with every bite. I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting there, waiting for permission to eat, but the release of tension was immediate. The weight on my shoulders wasn't gone, but it was lighter, less suffocating.
Still, there was a small voice inside me, a whisper of doubt, that told me I shouldn't be eating too much. That I shouldn't take more than my share, that I didn't deserve it. But for once, in this strange house full of unfamiliar faces, I let myself push that voice down, just a little.
I ate, slowly, quietly. And for the first time in a long time, the food didn't feel like a battle. It didn't feel like survival. It felt like something I could simply enjoy.