POV Mira Holy shit. I've fucked three men. Three. As in tres in Spanish. As in a foursome. Never in my entire life did I imagine this would be my story. That my virginity - my one big first - would belong not to one man but to three. And not just any three. Brothers. Triplets. When I was twelve, I pictured losing my virginity like some perfect scene from a cheesy romance movie. The bedroom would be filled with rose petals, fairy lights glowing, soft music playing while he whispered sweet nothings in my ear. Then Wattpad happened, and my idea of romance... shifted. Suddenly I wanted to be bent over a balcony while someone growled in my ear. And eventually, dark romance novels came into my life. And I thought, maybe a gun pressed in my coochie wouldn't be the worst thing. Screw you, Zade Meadows, for ruining my standards. But this? This was beyond anything I could've ever imagined. This was something so insane that if I'd written it down, people would've called it unrealistic. And yet... here I was. "You're deep in thought. Penny for it?" Victor's voice pulled me back, low and smooth but tinged with curiosity. I blinked, realizing I'd been staring out the car window so long the passing houses had blurred into one endless streak. "Oh... I was just thinking." His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "About yesterday?" Heat rushed to my cheeks so fast it was almost dizzying. I looked away, focusing on the trees lining the road. "Maybe." When I woke up this morning, I was in a bedroom I didn't recognize. The walls were painted in muted cream, sunlight spilling in through half-open curtains. I was wearing pajamas softer than anything I'd ever owned. The fabric slid over my skin like warm clouds. Victor had been there, seated in an armchair across from the bed, watching me with that quiet, unreadable expression of his. He was the one who handed me a glass of water and asked if I was hungry. Then Leo had appeared. Brief. Businesslike. No warmth, no lingering glance. He told Victor to take care of me while he was out of the country for a few days. Then he left without another word. And Milo... Milo was nowhere. Not a note. Not a shadow of his presence. Victor had filled the silence with small details about their family. Their parents were retired now, living in Bali, Indonesia, in a beach house they rarely left. The brothers often visited them, sometimes for weeks at a time. He spoke about it casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world, while my mind spun with questions about what kind of parents could raise these men. "What's your dream country to visit?" Victor asked now, his voice pulling me back into the present. We were nearing the end of the long, winding driveway that led away from the mansion. I shrugged. "I don't know. I've traveled a lot, but so far... I loved Istanbul the most. I'd definitely go back there." I tilted my head toward him, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. "Don't you get annoyed when people think you're Leo?" He let out a deep, unhurried laugh, the kind that seemed to roll through him. "Not really. I hate standing in the spotlight like Leo. I'd rather stay in the background, watch, analyze." "Oh really?" I raised a brow, curious. "So what did you major in? Something boring in business?" "Psychology," he said simply, almost like he was testing my reaction. I blinked at him. "Psychology?" He nodded. "Much to my parents' dismay. They thought it was a waste of time, that I should've studied finance or law to help with the company. But I've always been fascinated by people. What drives them, what scares them, the little habits they don't realize they have." His gaze flicked to me, holding for just a second longer than necessary before turning back to the road. "It's useful." There was something about the way he said that last word - useful - that sent a faint shiver up my spine. Like he wasn't just talking about strangers. We turned into my street. All the houses looked eerily identical - same beige siding, same manicured lawns. It was like they'd been copy-pasted from the same design file. My chest tightened, a subtle weight settling over me. Home was safe... but also suffocating. Victor slowed the car to a stop in front of my house. The engine cut off with a soft hum. He stepped out first, moving with that quiet, deliberate grace he had. Before I could reach for the handle, he rounded the car and opened my door. His hand rested lightly on the frame, his eyes flicking to mine in silent invitation to step out. I barely had time to plant my feet on the driveway before the front door of my house slammed open with a deafening crack. My father stormed out, his face twisted in anger, his voice already raised before he'd even closed the distance between us. "Where the hell were you!"