Sophia never expected her investigative work to lead to the altar. When her stepsister vanishes under suspicious circumstances, Sophia is thrust into an arranged marriage with Ricci Russo—a billionaire, as ruthless as he is mysterious. Ironically, he also happens to be the subject of her next exposé. Ricci, a cold and calculating investor, demands Gerald Williams's daughter as collateral for a high-stakes deal. But when the intended bride disappears, he is given Sophia instead. What he doesn't know is that she's not just an unwilling bride—she's also a journalist determined to uncover his secrets. Trapped in a marriage built on deception and ulterior motives, Sophia and Ricci are drawn into a dangerous game of power, secrets, and unexpected desires. As tension brews and the lines between truth and lies blur, one question remains: Will their forced union spark a love undying or will the weight of their secrets be their own destruction?
View MoreSOPHIA
My sister needs help. I did it! I had finally gotten an achievement to be proud of. One of the untouchable, corrupt, and monstrous prime ministers in the country was about to go down, thanks to me. The headlines tomorrow would be the bomb! After pulling up in the driveway, I practically ran into the building to see my editor and boss. Benjamin King. We had spoken over the phone, and I could literally hear the excitement rolling off him in waves. I had barely stepped into the office when he pulled me into a hug, taking me by surprise. It also set off a million butterflies in my stomach. I had had the biggest crush on him for a long time. He gestured for me to sit beside him on the sleek leather couch, and his eyes gleamed. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He flipped through the pages of my report, eyes shining like he had seen gold. He nodded approvingly before stating, "I always knew you were the very best, Sophia!" "Thanks, Benjamin," I muttered. Heat crept up my cheeks as he stared at me in admiration. "You've proven yourself again and I'm so proud of you," he stated. Walking over to his desk, he pulled out a file and handed it to me. "That's why you're the only one I can trust with this. We need all the information you can get about that billionaire. Sources tipped us off that he has some dirt on his nails. I need you to dig it up." I glanced through the profile. This was high-class, nothing like before. The world-class billionaire, Ricci Russo. "It's huge, but the bigger the fish, the bigger the price," he stated, taking a seat close to me again. "Consider it done," I stated, a smirk crawling across my cheeks. "As for this victory, will you be chanced for us to have dinner later too—" My heart leaped but plunged when he was interrupted by the sound of my phone. I had waited for Benjamin to make this move for a long time, only to have it ruined by some annoying caller. Annoyance swirled within me. "Please, excuse me," I stated to Benjamin ruefully before stepping out to take the call. Harsh words were on the tip of my tongue until I heard the voice on the other end of the line. "Sophia," a tiny, sniffling voice called from the other end of the line. I paused, pulling the phone away from my ear to see the caller ID. "Sara?" It couldn't be. How long had it been since she spoke to me.. years? She burst into tears once I placed the phone back to my ear. Her sobs were heartwrenching. "Talk to me, Sara. What's the matter? Why are you crying?" Her words came out, choked and stuttered. "Can you imagine? Dad wants me to get married to a total stranger! He says I have no choice. Can you even believe that he says in getting married in two weeks? Two weeks!!" My heart skipped a beat. What was Dad up to now? How could he even think of just marrying his daughter off? "I don't understand. Why is he making you get married, and why the rush?" She sniffled on the other end of the line, sucking in a deep breath before speaking up finally. “His business is in trouble. It has been for a while, but a few weeks ago, it got the final blow. He tried everything to save it. Nothing worked. Then, suddenly, a few days ago, he came home excited, saying he found a way he could finally save his business and his wealth.” Her voice wavered. “I was so happy for him until he told me the condition. He found an investor… but the deal comes with a price. A marriage alliance.” I felt my entire body go stiff as the words fell from her mouth. “A marriage alliance? What the hell is this, a Victorian-era drama? We live in the 21st century! Nobody does that anymore!” Sara fell silent at my outburst but soon spoke up. “Please, Sophia. Help me talk to him. I can’t… I can’t do this. I can't get sold into a marriage. There won't be joy. I won’t survive this marriage. I can't survive the alliance.” Her desperation was suffocating and already giving me the hiccups. I sighed, rubbing my forehead to display my confusion even though I was not quite feeling complete pity. "Okay, okay. Calm down. I’ll talk to him.” But in my heart, I already knew this wouldn’t end well. He doesn't like me a single bit, and I believe talking to him is a total waste of everything. ******* “Who the hell do you think you are...huh?” My stepfather, Gerald's, voice thundered through his expansive home office, making me flinch slightly. Crippling fear slithered through my body as he slammed his palm on the mahogany table. “Coming into my house, telling me what I can and cannot do?” I swallowed hard but held my ground, even though fright threatened to silence me. “Father, Sara is miserable already. You can’t force her into this....” “Enough of your shit!” he roared, his face turning pale red. “Do you think I want this for her? Do you think I enjoy watching my daughter cry? I have tried everything I could ever think of! Every single door slammed in my face. I have a family to take care of! Your mother. Your brother. If the company collapses, we lose everything! Will you provide for us? Your little job, can it take care of this family? Can it pay any bills?” The sneer in his voice as he spat out the words made my stomach churn in anger. I had worked my ass off for years, trying to gain even a sliver of his approval. But he never cared about that. Still, I shoved my emotions aside. Now wasn’t the time for feelings. Now wasn't the time to bring unnecessary issues to the table. "Who is this investor?” I asked, keeping my voice steady and calm, not trying to display my emotions. He grabbed his jacket and briefcase, preparing to leave. Then, with one last glance, he said, “Ricci Russo.” Time seemed to pause. “Ricci Russo? The world’s second richest man?!” His expression was unreadable at this point, as my heart pounded. “Yes. And in two weeks, Sara will be his wife. That’s final.” With that, he strode out of the house, leaving me standing there, stunned, helpless, furious, and mostly confused. Sara’s fate had already been sealed, and there was nothing I could do... or could I?SOPHIA It had been three months since I remembered everything.It didn’t come back in a rush. It came in fragments. The scent of cigarette smoke on Ricci’s coat. The sound of my laugh echoed against the kitchen tiles in our mansion. The feeling of his hand sliding over mine in the dark....I hated myself for not remembering sooner.When the final piece fell into place, it wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t steal my breath or send me into a breakdown. It was quiet. Like unlocking a room inside myself I’d boarded up out of fear.Ricci didn’t say anything when he saw it happen. He just looked at me, waiting.And I whispered, “I remember, Ricci.”He didn’t move. Just one tear rolled down his cheek. One. And then he pulled me into his arms like he’d been holding his breath for years.Now, we were here.A quiet countryside villa outside Florence. No bodyguards. No board meetings. No whispers of Sara or Project Lucifer. The media had moved on. And Ricci… he had started breathing again. So had I.Tha
RICCI The storm hadn’t stopped since.It was still roaring outside, the thunder rolling low like a warning from some angry god, but none of that mattered. Not when she collapsed into my arms like that. “Sophia?! Sophia—look at me, please. Look at me—!” Her name tore from my mouth.She wasn’t answering. Her face was pale, and her breath was very shallow. Her body went limp against mine, and for a second—I swear—I thought I was losing her again. I had almost started crying tbh.I carried her. I didn’t care that my boots tracked mud across the hardwood or the carpet. I didn’t care that I could barely see straight through the panic fogging my vision. I just needed her somewhere safe... somewhere quiet.I laid her gently on the couch. Her mother followed behind. She was asking questions I couldn’t answer. And that made me more angry.... frustrated....tired? All of them...or none of them? I didn't know....I didn’t know what the hell just happened. I didn’t care about explanations. All I c
SOPHIA I tossed a towel at him and rolled my eyes, biting back a smile.Twenty minutes later, he returned—fresh, damp curls, cotton shirt hugging his arms. He kissed the top of her head before sitting down at the small dining table, picking up his fork.The food was plated perfectly. As if he hadn't eaten for days…he hurriedly took one bite.He froze.Then looked up, chewing slowly. “You… this is illegal.”I smirked, sipping from the wine. “That’s the sauce I nearly ruined, by the way.”“Tastes like heaven. Or maybe I’m just drunk on you,” he said.“To fire hazards and foreplay.”She tilted her glass toward him. “To you,” he murmured. “And every damn moment like this.”“ Sophia" I heard my name the first time—barely. I didn’t answer.“Sophia?”This time it came louder. Right after a loud clap of thunder that made the window panes tremble. I blinked, suddenly aware of the room around me again. The dining room. The smell of sauce in the air and the faint scent of mom's perfume. My ha
RICCI The scent of garlic and seared butter curled through the air like an invitation. I stood by the stove, apron tied lazily around my waist, stirring the Alfredo sauce with one hand while swaying a little to the soft jazz spilling from the speaker on the counter. It was one of those evenings that felt almost too quiet. The kind where the city pulsed beyond the window, but inside this house—our house—there was only warmth, flickering light, and the sound of something soft simmering.I had just reached for the pepper grinder when I heard the front door click open.Then… footsteps.“Bambina,” came his voice. Deep….Slightly hoarse. And a little tired.I didn’t turn around. “You’re late.”“Blame the board,” he said, his footsteps drawing closer, “and a thirty-minute call about something they could’ve emailed.”I heard the soft thud of his briefcase hitting the entryway bench, followed by the loosening of his tie. My heart beat just a little faster—stupidly so. Even now. Even after all
SOPHIA It was quiet downstairs—too quiet, honestly. After a few days of being cooped up in my room like some fragile doll, I needed to feel something again. Movement perhaps….or maybe sound. I didn't really know. Even if it was just the hum of the refrigerator or the clinking of plates.We were back in New York now. And strangely, everything felt both familiar and distant, like a dream I kept dipping in and out of.But Mom was right—I was starting to remember things.Still, I won't deny it. I missed Mabel. A lot more than I expected to.Little flashes were coming back gradually. I remembered working for Mike to bring down someone whom I couldn't remember. I didn't know why Matilda helped me a lot in remembering Isabella, and I also remembered I loved dandelions. The way the living room light slanted in from the window around this hour. It didn’t always last, but it came in stronger waves these days.I wandered into the living room and paused near the side table. There was a photo fra
MABEL It had just been two days since Vivienne took Sophia back to New York.Two slow, dragging days.She said she had a company to oversee—some fashion thing or luxury firm or whatever rich people do when they’re not breaking hearts—and that Sophia being in the city might jog her memory. I didn’t argue, but Lord knows I wanted to.I didn’t want her to go.Not because I thought I knew best—no. But because that girl had curled herself into my home, into my routine, into my life. There was something tender about the way she folded laundry or stirred her tea or stared at the ceiling like she was searching for someone who never came.You don't watch a girl like that walk away and feel whole again.But what could I do? Say no to Vivienne Williams? That woman could put ice in a volcano and still walk out with her hair done.So now the apartment was quiet again. Not empty, but quieter in the saddest way. And here I was, on a Saturday, wiping down the same wooden table for the third time bec
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