After Tony's little warning, I was even more afraid of him. It was simplest to avoid him, which I managed excellently since he didn't seek out spending time with me either. 

Fortunately, I usually went to school with Shane. I enjoyed traveling with him the most because at least I could talk to him, even if our discussions weren't always of the highest caliber. Tony mostly stayed silent around me, and Dylan could never resist throwing in a nasty comment.

As for school life, the boys at the academy still feared to approach me even for trivial matters. Every guy would discreetly look around before interacting with me (and there weren't many of these interactions) to ensure the Monet brothers weren't hiding nearby. It started to seriously irritate me. Dylan, Shane, and Tony acted with impunity, and the whole school seemed to cheer them on and get out of their way. 

I felt like we'd reverted to medieval times, and they were playing the roles of royalty. This was one of the reasons I avoided them between classes. I didn't identify with their superstar lifestyle, and it was enough that I lived under the same roof with them. Unfortunately, even though I tried to stay in the shadows, completely cutting off from them was impossible.

I spent the long breaks with Mona and Audrey, the girls I had befriended. The former was particularly eager for my attention, and her overly enthusiastic demeanor seemed so genuine that I was drawn to her too, finally longing to belong to at least one group of friends. Even a small, three-person one.

That day, we decided to take advantage of the last nice moments of the year and went outside for lunch. We weren't the only ones with this idea. The schoolyard was filled with students, and almost all the picnic tables were taken. We managed to snag one and basked in the warmth, relaxing before the second part of the day, when suddenly we heard the sounds of some commotion.

I opened my eyes and shielded them from the sun to glance toward the gathering crowd forming a little way from us. Mona was already craning her neck and was the first of us to take steps toward the growing throng. Audrey and I followed her lead and soon knew the reason for the sudden crowd.

Two boys had started fighting, and I froze when I recognized Tony in one of them. "Fighting" was an overstatement; my brother was the only one really delivering blows, while his victim clumsily tried to defend himself. With horror, I watched as Tony's tattooed hand grabbed the victim by the tie. I scanned the faces of the gathered people. Some laughed and cheered Tony on, others grimaced at the brutality of the scene, but few seemed as frightened and disgusted as I was.

When, after an especially hard punch, blood spurted from the boy's nose, I'd had enough and, without thinking much, rushed into the middle of the fray. The fact that Tony was, after all, my brother gave me courage, otherwise, I'd probably stand like a statue, just like the rest of the onlookers. 

He might not like me, but surely he wouldn't hit his own sister, right?

I didn't get to find out because, before I could insert myself between him and the bleeding boy, someone grabbed my arm and stopped me. I turned, knowing it wasn't one of my new friends – the grip was too strong.

And I was right, because it was Dylan who stopped me from getting involved in the fight. I looked into his eyes. I saw a warning mixed with disbelief, but I was too agitated to take it seriously and back down – as I would have in another situation.

I couldn't watch my brother, whom I'd had breakfast with this morning, now so aggressively and heartlessly hit someone in the face, leaving bruises that would last for weeks. I tried to break free but to no avail because I didn't stand a chance against Dylan's muscular arm, so I finally gave up and tried to use verbal persuasion.

"Stop him!"

In response, I received a blank stare.

"Please, he's hurting that boy..."

Nothing.

"He'll get in trouble..."

In the background, I heard the prolonged groan of Tony's victim. The people closest to me and Dylan started paying attention to our confrontation as well. Some even more than the fight itself.

"Dylan, do something!" I finally yelled hysterically.

"Be quiet, don't get involved."

Now disbelief painted my face. I couldn't do anything because when I glanced at Tony, wanting to yell at him to stop, the beaten boy was already lying on the ground, barely conscious. Tony leaned over him and whispered something in his ear, then gave his jacket one last yank, looking at him with disdain.

Just then, a woman with a red face, bristling eyebrows, and tightly pressed lips appeared, with exceptionally deep wrinkles forming around them. Someone whispered from the side that it was the principal. Well, bravo, just in time because Tony had just finished turning another student into a pulp.

My brother was immediately dragged to the principal's office, a nurse was called to the scene, and Coach Mendoza, a tall man with a dark beard, started dispersing the crowd, shouting and whistling at us like any respectable PE teacher. I winced as Dylan dragged me toward the school building. Halfway there, he stopped to the side and turned me to face him.

"Why the hell did you get between them? You could have gotten hit."

"Why did Tony beat him up?" I asked reproachfully.

I had my values well sorted, so I knew who really deserved a reprimand here, and it wasn't me.

"That's none of your business."

"Then why didn't you stop him? That boy was bleeding!"

I crossed my arms over my chest. I tried to ignore the people passing by who were eavesdropping, hoping for another Monet drama. Dylan looked down at me for a moment in a strange way, as if he didn't understand English, then shook his head and sighed.

"Go back to class, Hailie."

I dropped my arms to my sides.

"But..."

"No buts."

I obeyed him because of that sharp tone. My relationship with Dylan wasn't the best, so I preferred not to worsen it for my own good. On the way to class, I stopped by the bathroom to look in the mirror. My face surely bore signs of the agitation from a few minutes ago – my eyes still shone, and the corners of my mouth wouldn't lift or even straighten. I was still pale, so I pinched my cheeks, hoping to add some color to them. I once read about noblewomen doing this in the old days.

When I deemed myself presentable enough to go to class, I slung my bag over my shoulder, and then my phone slipped out of an open compartment. Before I could react, it fell on the tiles, and its screen shattered into a million pieces. The damage must have been severe because it didn't even want to turn back on.

I panicked. My first thought was of Mom, who wouldn't be thrilled if I brought home the news that I'd destroyed my phone. I'd likely have to do without it for a while. Especially since this one was relatively new; I got it about four months ago. It wasn't top-of-the-line, but it met my basic needs, and I liked it. I also knew it was quite an expense for Mom.

In the end, I stayed in the bathroom longer, first begging the universe for the phone to magically work, passing it from one hand to the other, rubbing and pressing the buttons repeatedly. Unfortunately, no one heard my prayers. No one ever listens to them. Then I started the process of preparing to face people again. This time, I also had to dry my tear-streaked eyes.

Great, I'll look like I cried because of Tony's fight.

Getting through the rest of the classes was absolutely awful. I kept checking to see if the phone hadn't miraculously fixed itself. I was sad because my whole bookstagram world was on the phone, and I wasn't ready to lose it. I also stressed that maybe someone – like Vincent – might decide to call me today, and I wouldn't be able to answer. He had clearly stated that he always wanted to be in contact with me. At the same time, I was afraid to inform the boys about the damage. I still hoped the phone might turn on. Or, I don't know, this was all a dream.

As if that wasn't enough, I also had to endure people discussing Tony's fight in hushed tones all day. I defended myself against the gossip because analyzing the event was no pleasure for me, and nothing I heard sounded like confirmed information. Mostly, they were snippets of baseless guesses that the beaten boy owed Tony something or even got "what he deserved." 

The version that worried me the most was the words of one girl from my brothers' year, who whispered feverishly to her friends that Tony beat up the boy who had spoken rudely about his sister. I doubted Tony cared what someone might have to say about me, but it still gave me chills, and I decided I definitely wouldn't delve into the topic.

After the last class, I walked out with Mona. My foul mood must have been radiating from me. She didn't try to talk to me much, which was unlike her. Not wanting to alienate one of the few people I could call a friend in this school, I confessed to her about my broken phone, still hoping she might miraculously offer a solution.

"Did you try turning it off and on?"

Never mind.

"I tried everything."

"You know, even if it somehow turns back on, the screen is so cracked you won't be able to see anything anyway," she said, glancing at the phone in my hand with little interest. "Maybe just tell your brothers, they'll get you a new one. It's just a phone, right?"

As I listened to her, I felt my chin start to tremble. To avoid looking like an emotionally unstable crybaby who couldn't control herself over a stupid phone, I clenched my jaw.

"Yeah, you're right," I said, forcing a smile that probably looked nothing like a real smile. "See you tomorrow, right?"

Without waiting for an answer, I headed towards the Lamborghini, clutching my books to my chest with one hand and gripping the broken phone in my pocket with the other. I felt sadness and anxiety seeping into my heart. I was upset about breaking the phone my mom had given me. I remember how happy I was when I got it. It was another thing that reminded me of her, and now I'd probably lost it.

Moreover, now I'd have to tell Vincent everything, which wasn't exactly a comforting thought either.

Dylan and Tony were standing by the Monet's parking spots, laughing about something. I hadn't met them since the fight and wasn't looking forward to seeing them again. And Shane was nowhere in sight. Shane wasn't much of a support since he didn't usually take my side with the brothers, but at least he was kinder than those two.

As I got close enough for Dylan to give me a scrutinizing look, I quickly started studying the asphalt. I didn't like my brothers' observant nature. Vincent was the master of it, but the others weren't far behind. Even Tony, who seemed completely indifferent to what was happening to me. 

Now he frowned at the question Dylan immediately asked me.

"Why were you crying?"

"I wasn't crying," I replied quickly.

"Did someone say something to you?"

I shook my head, stopping by the passenger door. I felt for the hidden button and pressed it to open the door, but the car was locked, and I had to look up at Dylan standing on the other side of the vehicle. His tense face showed determination. I realized we wouldn't leave the parking lot until he got the reasons for my sadness out of me. I wished he preferred to handle this in the car, where we'd have more privacy, without Tony breathing down my neck.

"Are you sure?" Dylan clenched his fists on the car roof. "Is it because of Tony's fight?"

He nodded towards our brother, who was straddling his motorcycle, turning his helmet in his bandaged hands. I wondered how it was possible that he hadn't been sent home. I realized how strange and unbelievable that was. The principal had seen what happened with her own eyes! He should have at least been suspended.

"No, it's not because of the fight."

"Don't lie, Hailie."

"I'm not lying!"

I sighed and, with trembling hands and reluctance, reached into my uniform pocket, pulling out the shattered phone. I hadn't planned to admit what had happened to Dylan and Tony. They didn't need to know. But if they were going to accuse me of lying, I preferred to tell them the truth.

"I dropped it."

There was a moment of silence. Dylan looked at the phone in my hand as if it were some strange contraption he was seeing for the first time, then raised his eyebrows and looked back at me.

"You cried because you dropped your phone?" he asked.

"It doesn't work."

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes again. They'd start streaming down my cheeks any minute now, and I'd feel even more embarrassed. I turned my head and saw that Tony was also looking at me with a dumbfounded expression. He was frowning and making a strange face as if he didn't understand what I was saying, even though I was holding the evidence in my hand. The brothers exchanged glances.

"Get in," Dylan instructed me. His voice sounded different than it had a moment ago. Softer. I might even say I heard a note of indulgence in it. Like a parent feeling worn out by their child's harmless antics.

Well, I didn't need to be told twice. I sniffled, put the phone back in my jacket pocket, and this time, when I pressed the button, the door opened without any trouble.

During the drive home, I felt relieved that no one had yelled at me yet. I had no phone screen to lose myself in, so I stared at the increasingly familiar dense forest. Forests cover over fifty-eight percent of Pennsylvania, or so I read somewhere. That surprised me because my observations suggested it was closer to one hundred percent.

The whole way, I thought about the trees and didn't speak, just like Dylan, who only occasionally glanced at me with a look that suggested he wanted to say something but then changed his mind. As soon as we got home, he disappeared somewhere, and I trudged to the kitchen, where Eugenie, as usual, served me an overly large portion of dinner.

I liked my brothers' housekeeper, but she had a hard time grasping that I wasn't a physically active teenage boy but a small girl with a perpetually tight stomach. I picked at the nuggets without much pleasure, sometimes even forgetting to dip them in the barbecue sauce bowl.

When the twins showed up, I tensed at the sight of Tony. I realized I was genuinely afraid of him, especially when alone with him. Thinking about it, I was a little scared of all my brothers, but Tony seemed the most unpredictable.

I watched as he served himself dinner. I couldn't take my eyes off his muscular, tattooed arm and strong hands. The bandage on his hand was gone, and I felt faint at the sight of his scraped knuckles, which were recently covered in blood.

Tony, however, paid no attention to me. Shane, on the other hand, might have been more inclined to talk if not for the nuggets catching his eye. He piled them high on his plate and didn't even notice when I added the rest of mine to his.

I slipped into my bedroom, relieved to finally retreat into its quiet sanctuary. I changed into comfortable clothes and sat at my desk, ready to do my homework. Today, I worked much slower and more meticulously than usual, trying to delay as long as possible the inevitable mission of finding Vincent.

However, I was in for a surprise, and some time later, still poring over my desk and pondering the choice of highlighter color, there was a knock on my door. Very soft and single, as if someone had accidentally tapped it, but as I mentioned before, the Monet Residence was very quiet, and such sounds didn't occur there without a reason. 

I was right because when I hesitantly invited the guest in, my legal guardian appeared at my bedroom door.

I immediately tensed at the sight of him. He not only rarely called me but never visited me in my room. His face looked tired, but he still looked fantastic in a white shirt and dark suit pants.

He sat down on my armchair, and I turned on my seat to face him. He remained silent for a long time, but I waited patiently for him to make his move because he seemed like the kind of person who preferred to decide not only when a conversation should end but also when it should start.

"Hailie, I want to talk to you about Tony's fight," he said. After a day full of business meetings, his voice still sounded cold. "Dylan told me you saw it."

"The whole school saw it."

I twisted my torso and clenched my fists on the back of the chair. I rested my chin on one of them, glancing at my oldest brother as innocently as I could.

"He also told me how you reacted to it."

"Vince," I began, probably addressing him by his name for the first time in my life, and in a diminutive form at that. I tried to make my voice sound reasonable and matter-of-fact. I knew that to achieve this, I needed to control my emotions, but it was incredibly difficult to curb my agitation. "That boy was lying there, unable to defend himself. Tony had no mercy, even when blood started pouring from his nose!"

Vince looked at me in silence for a moment, then began rubbing his chin.

"I'm not saying that school grounds are the right place for handling such things, and Tony definitely has an anger problem. He should have controlled himself better. I will remind him of that – I promise. But I'm here to make it clear that I want you to stay away from such incidents in the future. And certainly not to throw yourself into the center of them. It doesn't matter if one of your brothers is involved or not. It's just dangerous."

"But..."

"That wasn't a request."

"But it's a serious matter! If I beat someone up, would you just shrug it off?"

Vincent's eyes darkened.

"No, I wouldn't shrug it off, you can be sure of that, dear Hailie. Now lower your tone and understand that I'm not trying to be spiteful. Never, no matter what happens, get involved in your brothers' affairs. Both at school and outside of it."

"So what, next time I should just stand and watch?"

"It's best to walk away."

I grimaced in frustration and looked away.

"Hailie, listen to me carefully," Vincent continued. He stood up with that inimitable elegance of his. When he looked down at me, the effect of his words gained more power. "We live in a particular world, and I can't guarantee that your brothers' actions will always be an example for you, unfortunately. And to be clear... I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if I found out you voluntarily got involved in some incident."

Could such words be considered a threat? Could my siblings not have a normal conversation? The only thing I managed to say after Vincent's speech was a reply in a voice half-choked with emotion:

"I don't take part in fights. And I didn't take part in this one either! It was Tony who beat up some boy during break; how am I getting reprimanded for it? And what does this mention of the world even mean?"

Vincent tilted his head slightly as if fascinated by the fact that I dared to continue the conversation.

"I'm explaining to you that Tony is not your concern. I'm here to clarify this situation with you, exclusively. If you had done something to deserve, as you put it, remprimand, our conversation would be different, I assure you. Is what I'm saying clear to you?"

I gripped the back of the chair tighter, discreetly taking a deep breath. If Vincent was as perceptive as he appeared, he surely noticed how much it cost me to control my emotions. With a bit of luck, maybe he even appreciated my efforts.

"Clear," I finally said. Of course, I had many objections to Vincent's words, but conversations with him were unpleasant, and I knew we'd finish faster if he got his way. I wasn't wrong; there was a flash of approval in his eyes.

"I'm glad we finally understand each other. Do you have anything else to add?" he asked, glancing simultaneously at the white face of the watch on his wrist.

"Uh, actually, yes," I whispered. I had momentarily forgotten about my phone issue but just remembered, and maybe it wasn't the best time to mention it, but I felt there wouldn't be a better one. "My phone is broken. I'm just saying, in case you, I don't know, try to call me. You know..." I let out a distorted nervous giggle. "... I won't answer."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, and I sighed again.

"It's my fault, I broke it myself," I admitted. "It fell, but it was an accident, really, I don't know how..."

"Mhm, enough. I know about it. The boys told me."

He approached the chair I was still clinging to and looked down at me, and I saw a hint of gentleness in his eyes for the first time since our conversation began. I flinched at his touch as he lightly lifted my chin with two fingers. His dark signet ring gleamed on one of them.

"Hailie, never worry about such trifles again."

I stared at him, surprised, as he walked away, and he paused for a moment with his hand on the doorknob.

"I have a new phone for you. Come down to the kitchen for dinner, and I'll give it to you."

And he left.

Let's sum it up. I got reprimanded for trying to save a beaten-up boy, whom I wanted to protect from more serious harm caused by my aggressive brother, but not for carelessly destroying my cell phone?

I turned back to my desk, finally allowing my back to rest against the chair. I even ran my hand over my face, rubbing my eyes a bit. Why did all conversations with Vincent have to be so multilayered, unpredictable, and complicated? This wasn't what I had been accustomed to for fifteen years of my life. My mom's rules, for example, were clear, and the punishments for breaking them were simple and logical. Thanks to that, I always knew when I was in trouble and what reaction I could roughly expect from my mom. 

With Vincent, it was always a game of roulette.

Not wanting to irritate my guardian or miss the promised phone, I went downstairs promptly at dinner time. I had already said goodbye to my broken cell phone and tucked it into a drawer, not having the heart to just throw away a gift from my mom.

In the kitchen, I found only Vince. He was sitting at the table, looking just as tired as he had a few moments ago. He was calmly sipping tea and swiping through pages on his tablet, while a small white box stood on the counter opposite him.

With a sandwich from Eugenie, I took my place, moving the box slightly to the side but not too far away, glancing at it with curiosity. Just from the packaging, you could tell it was not just any model. For a moment, I toyed with the slice of bread, fighting with myself not to act like an excited child and patiently wait until the end of dinner to unpack the new gadget, but I quickly lost the internal battle. I put the sandwich back on the plate and grabbed the box in my hands, confirming with Vincent:

"This is for me, right?"

My brother looked up at me, blinked, then nodded, as if the answer to my question was obvious. Yes, it was a gift for me, containing the latest phone model. Perfectly designed, at least visually. Its color was described by the manufacturer as silvery granite bathed in starlight, or something like that. The device was flat and lightweight, but not too light to feel like a knockoff or a Chinese toy. Gosh, I was almost afraid to hold the phone, yet I wanted to explore all the features it had to offer, right now. I weighed it in my hand, looking at my brother.

"Wow," I whispered.

He glanced at me and gave me his signature smile, which I rarely had the pleasure of seeing.

Vince smiled.

Double wow.

In a sudden burst of boldness, which I wouldn't have suspected in myself, I carefully put the phone back in the box and stood up. Hearing the scrape of my chair, Vincent raised his head, and I saw him opening his mouth to comment on how dare I stand up from the table without even touching dinner, but he closed it when he saw that I was just circling the furniture to stand next to him. I noticed he tensed up because who ever saw a younger sister invading his personal space?

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"Thank you," I whispered in his ear, ignoring the cold emanating from him, and even hugged him tighter. It was a strange feeling – like hugging a seaside rock or a dead tree branch. Except branches didn't hug back, and Vince did, and I didn't have to wait long for it. He hugged me and patted my back lightly.

"You're welcome."

That was the day I hugged Vince for the first time, and I felt that our brother-sister bond tightened just a little bit.