Chapter 7

The next morning, I forwarded every screenshot of Sofia's messages to my lawyer. I didn't call the police. It wasn't because I thought she was harmless. It was because, so far, those messages only proved she was taunting me. They didn't prove what she was planning to do.

My lawyer wrote back, promising to back up the original records first and telling me not to go anywhere alone for the next few days. I agreed. At ten that morning, I headed to the rehab center as usual.

My driver was Paolo Greco. He had driven for the Moretti family for almost eight years. Since I woke up, he'd been the one who took me to the hospital every time. On days when I was moving slowly, he'd even have the car waiting at the nearest door. So when we passed a familiar intersection, I didn't suspect a thing until he failed to turn left.

"You missed the turn." I looked up.

Paolo didn't answer. Instead, the man in the passenger seat slowly turned around. I didn't know him.

He had a gun in his hand.

"Put the phone down, Ms. Moretti."

My first reaction wasn't fear. I went for the door handle. Locked. Then I reached for the emergency button beside the seat, and the man raised his gun higher.

"Don't make me."

"Who sent you?"

No one answered. I looked in the rearview mirror. Paolo couldn't bring himself to meet my eyes.

"How much did she pay you?"

His hands trembled for a moment. That was how I knew I'd guessed right.

"Paolo." I stared at him in the mirror. "Once my dad finds out, how long do you think that money's going to last you?"

He went pale.

The man in the passenger seat swore. "Don't talk to her."

The car suddenly sped up. The instant the gunman turned his head, I kicked the back of his seat hard, and the whole car lurched. He slammed into the door, and his gun swung away from me.

I lunged for his wrist. But my shoulder and back still hadn't fully healed, and I was nowhere near as strong as he was. In the chaos, something slammed hard into the side of my neck.

Everything went black. When I came to, the first thing I noticed was the smell of rust and seawater. My wrists were zip-tied behind the back of a chair, and the concrete under my feet was damp.

A single old white light hung overhead. It took me a few seconds to figure out where I was. A warehouse at the docks.

Sofia was sitting on a wooden crate across from me. She had changed into a black jacket and tied her hair back. There was no trace of the fragile girl she always pretended to be in front of my parents.

"You're awake?"

I tugged at my wrists. The ties were tight.

"You're insane."

She actually smiled.

"That's what all of you say."

"You kidnapped me because of that one message you sent yesterday?"

"It's not kidnapping," she corrected me. "I'm just keeping you here for a few hours."

I looked at her.

"You can explain that to a judge."

Her smile faded a little.

"I'm not planning to hurt you."

"So paying off my family's driver and bringing me here at gunpoint doesn't count as hurting me?"

"As long as you cooperate, nobody will lay a hand on you."

She got down from the crate and walked over to me.

"I just want you to see one thing clearly."

"What?"

"Who they'll choose."

A weight settled on my chest. But Sofia looked like she had finally gotten to the most exciting part.

"There are two warehouses here. One for you, one for me. In a little while, my people will text Matteo and your parents at the same time.

"They'll know we've both been taken, and they'll know there are gunmen at both places."

"And then?"

"Then we'll see which warehouse the first team goes to."

I could hardly believe she was talking about this so casually.

"With real guns?"

"They're just standing guard."

"And you can control every one of those people out there?"

"I paid them."

"You paid them. So that means they won't demand more money at the last minute? They won't get scared? They won't start shooting? They won't sell the information to someone else? How can you be this stupid? I'm the heir to the Moretti family!"

Sofia finally faltered. I stared at her.

"You have no idea what you're doing."

"I do." Her voice suddenly rose. "I know better than you do."

She took a step closer.

"My dad died for you."

"I know."

"I took a bullet for Matteo too."

"I know that too."

"Then why am I always just someone you feel obligated to thank?"

Her eyes were red, but her voice grew harder.

"The minute you woke up, everyone told me your place had to go back to you. Your room had to go back to you. Matteo had to go back to you too. Why should it all be yours?" She pointed at her own chest. "You were lying there, and you didn't know a thing. When Matteo got drunk, who took the gun out of his hand? When your mom cried over your picture every night, who sat with her? When your dad didn't come home all night, who waited up for him in the living room?"

"I'm not denying you did any of that."

"But once you came back, they acted like I should just disappear." She suddenly laughed. "That's why I want to know who actually matters more to them."

I looked at her, and for the first time, I understood. What she really wanted wasn't Matteo's love. It wasn't my parents' love either.

She wanted to win.

"Even if they save you first, what does that prove?"

"At least it'll prove they couldn't just throw me away the moment you woke up."

I drew a slow breath.

"Sofia, who they save first isn't what you should really be afraid of."

She frowned.

"What you should be afraid of is that once this starts, it might not stop the way you planned. And then neither of us might make it out of here alive."

The words were barely out of my mouth when a rapid burst of gunfire erupted outside the warehouse.

Sofia went white. The door burst open. A man ran in, his head covered in blood.

"Those guys outside aren't ours!"