Sophia's POV
Three Days Later “Knock knock,” Dad said, gently pushing the door open with his shoulder. His hands trembled slightly as he balanced a tray of tea and buttered bread. I didn’t respond. I hadn’t responded in days. Since the moment I learned the truth — that I had been offered like some token, bartered away to a man I barely remembered — I had barely moved. Just lying on my side, the same spot on my pillow still damp from tears that refused to stop falling. Dad set the tray down on the little table by the window. The scent of warm bread filled the room, but it only made my stomach churn. He sat beside me on the bed, his weight barely dipping the mattress. “Sophia,” he said softly, “you haven’t eaten in three days.” I turned my face toward the wall, away from him. Silence was easier than rage. He rubbed his fingers together — a nervous habit he’d had since I was a child. Guilt. He was swimming in it, but I didn’t care. It couldn’t undo what he had done. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “If I hadn’t… if I didn’t do what I did, I would’ve lost you. And Ava.” His voice cracked on her name — Ava, my mom. His wife. The pain in his eyes when he said it was enough to crush any anger I still held. “If I hadn't agreed to the arrangement, I would’ve lost you and Ava both,” he said, each word drenched in guilt. “I had no power to do anything for Ava back then. I still don’t. But Leo... he gave me a choice — to save your life.” “But you gave up my entire life, Dad,” I finally said, voice muffled against my pillow. “How do you expect me to marry your age mate?” Tears wet the side of my face again, hot and angry. My fists clutched the pillow tight, holding in the scream clawing at my throat. “I’m older than Leo,” Dad said, as if that made it better. “And the Leo I know… he’s a good man. He’ll take care of you.” He was crying now too. I didn’t turn to see it — I didn’t need to. I could feel the shame dripping off his words like blood from a wound. “Just leave me alone,” I said, voice hoarse. “I’ll leave the food here,” he whispered. “I’ll come back for the tray later.” The door clicked shut behind him. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. No matter how I twisted it in my mind, I couldn’t see a future where I belonged to someone like Leonard Morano. Not with our age difference. Not with the way he looked at me like I was his before I even had a say. Not with the power imbalance stretching like a chasm between us. “No,” I whispered to the ceiling. “No, I won’t let this happen.” I sat up. If Leo thought he could choose my life for me, he didn’t know who I was. He didn’t know I could fight back. ********** KINGS BAR It was like stepping into another world. The outside was plain enough — just a black-bricked building with a red neon sign. But once I pushed through the heavy double doors, my breath caught. The bar was magmatic in atmosphere — dim lighting that glowed like embers, velvet-lined booths nestled in shadow, glass chandeliers that shimmered like molten gold. Music played low and sensual, a jazzy undertone that made your heart thrum without knowing why. I wore a short black velvet dress, the hem brushing just above mid-thigh, showing enough leg to be noticed but not enough to be mistaken. My hair was swept into a soft updo, curled tendrils falling across my cheeks, and my makeup was dramatic — smoky eyes, bold lips, just the kind of fire I needed to wear as armor. I didn’t want to look lost, even though I was. I kept my back straight and my stride confident, weaving through bodies and perfume-heavy air as if I belonged. I was looking for him. Guards loitered around every exit, their eyes scanning lazily, but they didn’t stop me. My dress earned me passage. Appearance was currency here, and I was wearing mine like a weapon. I found the room toward the back, behind beaded curtains that pulsed red with the ambient lighting. I peeked through and my breath hitched. There he was. Leonard Morano. Sitting at the head of a long velvet booth like a king on his throne, flanked by dangerous-looking men who leaned in as he spoke. He wasn’t smiling — Leo rarely did. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough. That tailored suit, the way he draped his arm along the top of the booth, the way everyone listened when he spoke. He was in his world, commanding it like it belonged to him. And technically… so did I. I started to move toward the curtain. A hand landed on my shoulder — firm, uninvited. “Where do you think you’re going?” a low voice asked. I turned, heart jumping into my throat. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a fitted black suit. His jaw was squared, his tone clipped. “You can’t go in there,” he said, eyes scanning me. “It’s dangerous.” I stepped back slightly, nodding. “Okay,” I murmured. He didn’t trust me. Good. He went back to his post beside another suited guard. I shifted course and moved to the bar, taking a seat at a high stool with a view of the private room. I could still see Leo, still hear fragments of his voice. I didn’t know what I was going to do — slap him, scream, throw wine in his face? Maybe all of it. But something about the way he sat, the way his fingers tapped once on the table and men immediately quieted — it stirred something beneath my anger. Control. He radiated it. And then something odd caught my eye. The guard who had spoken to me earlier — he kept glancing my way. Not in the usual sleazy bar way. No. His gaze was puzzled, searching. Like I was a riddle he was trying to solve. Did he recognize me? “Hey, beauty,” a voice slurred next to me. I turned — a man with too much cologne and not enough sense stood with a wine glass in hand, clearly mistaking my silence for an invitation. I rolled my eyes. “I love that,” he chuckled. “The way you roll your eyes. You’ve got beautiful ones.” I ignored him. The bartender set a glass down in front of me. Pale gold, chilled. “You’ve been sitting here long enough,” he said. “Here, juice. You need something in your system.” I gave him a tight smile, took a sip. Sweet, slightly tart. My throat welcomed it. The man next to me was still talking. “You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s just get to know each other, you know—” “I’m waiting for someone,” I cut in. He backed off with a laugh, moving down the bar. I turned back toward the room. And that’s when I saw it. The guard who had been staring earlier was now inside the private room, leaning down and whispering something into Leo’s ear. Leo’s face turned toward him. Then — slowly — his gaze followed the direction the guard pointed. To me. Our eyes met. In that moment, the entire bar seemed to fall silent. His expression didn’t change immediately. But then it did. Fury. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. A flicker of something primal passed over his features. That look… it sent a chill all the way down my spine. It wasn’t confusion. It wasn’t curiosity. It was command. “What the hell are you doing here?” his eyes seemed to ask. And I had no answer. I had just lit the match. And now I was about to find out how fast the fire would spread.Sophia's POV"Let me go!" I yelled, pounding my fists against Leonard's back, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t stagger—as if my resistance was nothing more than a feather brushing his shoulder.Without a word, he threw me onto the bed like I weighed nothing. I bounced lightly against the mattress, stunned."Don't stain the bedsheet," Leonard said coldly.I immediately shifted, removing my bleeding wrist from the pristine white linen. The searing pain reminded me of Thelma’s grip, but what hurt more was the memory of him standing still as she clung to him like a proud prize."What the hell do you want from me?!" I snapped, my voice shaking with a mixture of pain and fury.Leonard ignored the question. He walked to a drawer, opened it, and retrieved a first aid box. Setting it gently on the floor before me, he knelt with one leg, the picture of calm control. My heart thudded, confused. This man... this wasn't the Leonard who barked orders and dealt in threats. This felt different.He opened
Sophia's POV "Leo!" Thelma exclaimed as she released her grip on me and ran into Leonard's arms like a desperate lover seeking validation. “Is she not ashamed? Look at how she’s clinging to him.” A maid murmured to another.“Right in front of his wife... does she think she owns him?” Maria murmured back“This is too much... does she think she controls this place, how shameless” Giovanni murmured “I thought Lady Sophia was the wife. Why is Thelma acting like she runs this house?” Luisa murmured.“He hasn’t said a word to her... look, he’s staring at Lady Sophia instead.” Giovanni murmured with a satisfying smile.“I feel so bad for Lady Sophia. Her wrist is bleeding and no one seems to care.” Maria murmured back to them.“It’s like Thelma wants to humiliate her. This is cruel. She should know better than to touch the boss like that in public.” Luisa murmured back.Grace looked at the girls and made a keep quiet sign with her index finger on her lips, one that only the maids noticed
Sophia's POV "Well, well, well. Look who's trying to play the role of the perfect wife." The venom in Thelma's voice was sharp enough to slice through flesh. I turned slowly, my eyes scanning her from head to toe, refusing to let her words rattle me. She was exactly as I remembered—always hungry for a fight, desperate to maintain her invisible crown in this chaotic house. "You think you can just waltz in here and take my place? I don't think so." Thelma added I held my calm, not because she didn’t deserve a response, but because I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she could get under my skin. "I'm not trying to take anyone's place. I'm just fulfilling my duties as his wife," I replied evenly. Her face twisted, the calm mask slipping just slightly—eyes narrowing, lips twitching. I could already sense the rising storm within her. "I'm not interested in your opinion or your approval," I added, turning to walk away. But before I could take another step,
Sophia's POV Standing in the hallway, I found myself surrounded by a flurry of movement.It was early evening, and everything seemed unusually chaotic. Maids rushed past me, arms laden with folded linens, trays of cutlery, silver candelabras. Their shoes clicked urgently against the marble tiles, skirts swaying as they navigated the halls like dancers in some unseen ballet. The guards, usually so stoic and still, walked briskly through the corridors, speaking into earpieces or adjusting their jackets as if they were about to march into war.Something was happening.Something important.But I wasn’t part of it.The scent of garlic, simmering tomatoes, and freshly baked bread floated from the kitchen, drawing me forward. As I neared the arched entrance, I could hear Grace’s voice—crisp and commanding—cutting through the steam and the chatter.“All right, girls, let’s get moving! We need to make sure everything is perfect for the boss’s meeting tonight.”Her voice held that particular t
“What the hell are you doing here?” The voice behind the gun snarled, low and venomous.Massimo didn’t move.He knew that voice.“Logan?” he asked, turning his head slowly.The cold metal of the gun barrel pressed against the back of his skull until Logan lowered it slightly, revealing his furious face.Massimo let out a breath, his body relaxing marginally. “Can you stop pointing the gun at me?” he said, eyebrows raised, lips curled into a half-smile. “You’re not exactly making this easy.”Logan didn’t smile back. “How did you get here?” he demanded, stepping forward, the gun still pointed toward Massimo’s torso. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”“I didn’t mean to,” Massimo replied, carefully. “The door was open. I got curious.”Logan’s eyes narrowed. His finger danced dangerously near the trigger.Massimo raised his hands slightly again in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry for entering your room. My bad. Seriously.”But Logan didn’t lower the gun. “I can underst
POV 3One month later.“I’m at the mansion. I’ll get the documents and be back in the next thirty minutes,” Massimo said, his voice firm as he pressed the phone to his ear, pacing briskly through the long hallway of the Morano estate.The place was alive with the soft murmurs of house staff moving like shadows across the walls. The hallway breathed with ambient light—dim, golden, mysterious. The towering chandelier above the mansion's sitting room shimmered like a constellation, scattering its diamond-like reflections across the marble floors and sleek surfaces. Time here felt suspended, as though secrets hung in the air with the dust motes floating in shafts of light.Two guards trailed behind him, their steps crisp, their black suits neat, guns strapped just beneath their coats. Massimo was used to this rhythm as Leonard's favourite bodyguard. He had enjoyed the privilege of leading above the other guards in the empire."We need to get the documents, there is barely time for that. I