Chapter 3

I kept my head down as I walked back to my seat.

The next class was Corporate Strategy & Leadership—a mandatory course for heirs of Mafia families.

Our instructor, Professor Moretti, was formidable across campus.

Students called her the Dragon Lady behind her back.

Last week she’d assigned a Management Competency Sheet.

All we had to do was hand it in.

Simple.

Mine, which I knew I placed in my bag, had vanished.

“Front. Now,” she ordered.

“Ten push-ups. Go.”

By the third, my arms were trembling.

By the tenth, I was shaking, every movement a struggle, but she didn’t flinch or offer a word of mercy.

“Failure to comply reflects failure in discipline. Stand in the back. And pray you learn.”

At the Valenti-Colombo Academy, instructors held full disciplinary authority.

Punishment wasn’t just humiliation—it became part of our official assessment.

A stain on one’s record meant jeopardizing graduation…

or the family’s trust.

I had never been punished before.

Not once.

Forty-five minutes dragged like forty-five years.

By the time class was over, Luca had made his way to me, moving with that infuriatingly lazy confidence.

He lifted the Management Competency Sheet carelessly between two fingers.

My sheet.

Then he tore it straight down the middle.

“You were out of line earlier,” he said with cold, deliberate calm.

“Consider this your punishment. A taste of what you put Rossi through.”

He tossed the shredded pieces at my desk.

“If you want this to end, go apologize to her. Do that, and we move on.”

My throat closed.

Something inside me snapped so quietly I almost didn’t hear it.

By lunchtime, the cafeteria was nearly empty.

I ordered braised short ribs—my favorite—but the smell alone made my stomach churn.

I sat by the window, food untouched.

I didn’t even notice Elena Rossi approaching until she slid gracefully into the seat across from me.

Her eyes sparkled with that pathetic, rehearsed innocence she always wore when she was about to stir up trouble.

“Sofia,” she purred, eyes glittering with fake innocence, “aren’t you curious? How my competition keynote ended up in your desk? Or who ripped it?”

I felt my patience snap—not in anger, but in pure exhaustion.

The pretending.

The way she acted all innocent while clearly trying to get under my skin.

I stood up, brushed my hands off, and without a second thought, tipped my warm seaweed–egg soup straight onto her perfectly powdered face.

“Elena,” I said, voice low, flat, and utterly uninterested, “before you try another cheap stunt with me, think very carefully.”

“I’m not interested in your games. I don’t have the time, and I certainly don’t have the patience. So let me make this simple—get out of my way.”

“I can make you disappear from this academy without lifting a finger.

I can make sure no school touches your name again.

I can make your whole family unemployable overnight.

So tell me—where exactly did you find the courage to act superior in front of me?”

Her eyes filled instantly—big, glassy, perfect tears.

“Fine—yes,” Elena choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I admit your family has more money, more influence, more everything than mine.

But does that mean you get to do whatever you want?

Does having money give you the right to ruin someone’s entire future?”

Her thoughts, however, dripped like poison:

"All that cash and she thinks she’s some kind of queen. Newsflash: she’s just a spoiled little leech riding on her parents’ name. Totally useless. Can’t even keep her childhood sweetheart in line."

"Honestly, he’d jump through hoops for me—do whatever I wanted. And she’s acting like she’s better than me? Give me a break."

I crossed my arms and let out a cold laugh.

“Yes,” I said. “Money does let me do whatever I want. If you don’t believe me—try provoking me again.”

She rushed out, wet and seething.

After the first afternoon class, our group chat exploded.

A recording was leaked.

The conversation from the cafeteria.

My words—my threats—every sentence blasted publicly.

Elena ran up to me, blocking my path, her eyes crimson and watery.

“Sofia, please, it wasn’t me! I don’t know who recorded it—I swear! Please, don’t hurt me—or my family.”

And then Luca appeared.

“Sofia, what exactly are you so proud of?” His voice boomed across the room.

“Your family used to be a small arms dealer. Now you’ve got some money and think you can terrorize people?”

“If I’m here, Rossi is off-limits. Touch her again and you’ll answer to me.”

He took a breath—slow and lethal.

“And starting today, I’ll make sure my parents cut all ties with the Colombo family. All agreements. All cooperation.”

Elena shot me a smile.

Triumphant. Predatory.

Her Heart-Voice:

Sofia, you will never beat me. I’ll take everything from you piece by piece. Luca is only the beginning.

“Apologize. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Before I could even move, he shoved me with all his strength, and I hit the wall with a sickening thud.

A sharp pain shot through my skull, and a thin line of blood ran down my forehead.

His eyes flickered with something—guilt?

And then—

A mechanical voice echoed in my mind:

“Host Sofia, you have unlocked the Heart-Voice Sharing System.

Please choose the person who will receive shared thoughts.”

My breath caught.

The system…

shared other people’s inner thoughts with whoever I chose.

Which meant—

If I selected Luca…

Luca Valenti would hear Elena Rossi’s real thoughts.

Every vicious, manipulative word of them.

My hands trembled.

“Host, please confirm the shared recipient: Luca Valenti.”

I exhaled.

“Confirm.”