I stretched my arms and headed downstairs. Thankfully, it's Saturday today. No more stressing about how I'll survive being around those guys. I sat down and glanced toward Enzo. My brother really did look handsome today—husband material, even. He was cooking while I watched him quietly.
"Enzo, where's Mom?" I asked.
"She went out. She'll be back later," he said without even glancing my way. That's when I noticed the bruise on his arm. And the small one on his cheek—barely visible, but enough for me to notice. I didn't need to ask who did that. I already knew. It was Mom.
That's why he hates me—because Mom loves me more than him.
"Can I help you with that?" I asked softly. He looked at me with those cold eyes of his, but I ignored it. I'll try to get close to him. Like they say, keep your enemies closer. Maybe I can change the plot.
"I don't need your help," he said flatly.
