Family Man branch

The Bianchi Family’s Dark Summer Begins

Torino's oppressive heat clung to the Bianchi household like a second skin, the air thick with unspoken desires and the weight of crumbling morality. Stefano Bianchi, a once-respected archeologist now reduced to a museum tour guide, slumped onto the couch, his fingers kneading his temples as the echoes of his wife’s distant laughter—laughter that wasn’t meant for him—haunted his thoughts. Jessica had been different lately. Distant. Secretive. The way she lingered on her phone, the way she dressed when she went out—too polished, too eager.

But Stefano’s mind wasn’t on his wife right now.

No, his hazel eyes were locked onto the sway of his daughter’s wide hips as Rebecca bent over the kitchen counter, her athletic shorts riding up just enough to reveal the sinful curve of her ass.

Damn.

She was his daughter, and yet—

“Dad?” Rebecca’s voice, sweet like poisoned honey, snapped him from his trance. She turned, her emerald eyes glinting with something hungry. “You okay? You’ve been staring...”

Stefano swallowed hard. “Just… thinking.”

Rebecca smirked, rolling her hips as she walked toward him, her toned thighs flexing with every step. “About Mom?”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Among other things.”

She perched on the armrest beside him, her fingers trailing along his shoulder. “She doesn’t deserve you.”

Stefano’s pulse spiked.

Dangerous territory.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Michele Bianchi lay sprawled across his bed, his laptop open to an incognito tab—stepmom, milf, taboo. His cock throbbed as he scrolled, his mind replaying the way his mother’s blouse had gaped open at breakfast, the way her nipples had just peeked through.

Fuck.

He needed advice. But who could he talk to about this?