Chapter Eight: The Echo Of His Words

Sofia’s POV 

I pushed the apartment door open with more force than I intended, the weight of his words still circling in my head ‘why does your face look familiar?’ That single sentence stayed with me throughout the entire day, refusing to leave my head even as I dropped my bag by the couch.

My heels came off first, I kicked them aside, peeling the tight fabric of my blazer from my shoulders. The silence of my small apartment was a relief after the suffocating hours in that fortress of a company, in his presence, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the echo of his voice. Why would he say that? Why did it matter so much?Did the mask slip?

In the kitchen, I set water to boil while pulling leftovers from the fridge. Pasta from last night, still in its container. I slid it into the microwave, mechanically going through the motions, but my mind wasn’t here. It was back in that office, in the way his eyes searched me as though he could peel away every layer I’d built, that can't and wouldn't happen, I have come too far to get caught now, and by him?

A soft meow broke through my thoughts. I glanced down and smiled despite myself. “Hey, sweet boy, come here.” My cat wove himself around my legs, tail flicking in expectation. I bent to scoop him up, pressing my cheek against the soft fur. He purred instantly, a sound steadier than my own heartbeat, a gentle calm settled on my chest, exhaling a burden I didn't even know I was carrying.

I set his bowl down and watched him eat, his little body hunched with satisfaction. For a second, I envied his simplicity, no masks, no past, no vendetta gnawing at his insides, no wandering thoughts. Just hunger and contentment.

The microwave beeped. I ate mechanically, twirling pasta around my fork, but my thoughts spun faster than I could swallow. What did he mean by familiar? I could swear I had never seen him before. Even when I was gathering intel on Roberto, Leonardo had been little more than a background figure, photographs, short mentions, nothing to sink into, I wasn't interested in him. My war wasn’t with him, he was not the one I came for.

So why did the way he looked at me feel like recognition? Like a mirror I hadn’t meant to stand before?

I shook my head, forcing the thought away. It was dangerous. Letting him crawl into my mind was not part of the plan. My plan had always been sharp, clean, with no room for distraction. Yet here I was, picking apart a single sentence like it carried the weight of my mission.

I dropped my fork with a sigh, pushing the plate aside. “This changes nothing,” I muttered under my breath, as if saying it out loud might steady me. Leonardo Moretti could see whatever he wanted in my face. He was not my target. He was just another wall between me and what I truly wanted, and I don't care how, I will get what I want.

Still, even as I stood to wash my dish, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was lying to myself, well lying to myself doesn't matter right now, I'm just concerned if he noticed any crack in my mask, that has to be the worst thing that can happen right now. I brought out my encrypted laptop, I had jammed and intercepted the cctv I could get to during the meeting, my previous kills, their companies were always the last on the list but since Roberto is so hard to reach I will have to draw him out with Moretti Global Holdings.

“But how do I do that?" I murmured slowly, under my breath, tapping the laptop, moving from office to office with my cursor, I was able to get the conference room, sales department and Leonardo's office, I need to get access to the archive room, that's where all hard copy of all Moretti Global Holdings’ collaborations and partners are kept, both front business and mafia related business. I guess we'll have to take this day by day. I'm here already, there's no need to rush things, everything is in play already.

I closed the laptop and went to the kitchen to make tea, I took the tea to my couch and brought out work laptop, I need to plan Leonardo's schedule for tomorrow, I checked my list of calls I had taken throughout the day and reminders during the meeting, filtered the important ones, piece by piece, I arranged how the entire day will go, organized and smooth, Morning board meeting at nine. Negotiation with an overseas investor just after lunch. Two follow-up calls with construction partners. And then, as a gamble, I penciled in a late-afternoon security update, men like him never ended a day without one.

Shadow leapt onto my lap, purring as though satisfied with my progress. I scratched behind his ears absently, rereading the list I had typed out with careful attention, every hour accounted for, every possible gap sealed.

This wasn’t just about looking competent. This was survival. If I fumbled even once, Leonardo, or worse, would start pulling threads, and when threads were pulled, cracks would show, masks would certainly be unraveled. I leaned back, letting the glow of the screen fill my face. My tea had gone cold on the counter, shadow had fallen asleep, my muscles ached from the day, and yet I couldn't ignore that small thrill of something dangerous.

“You look familiar.”

I pressed my fingers against my temple, shaking it off, he didn’t know me, he couldn’t. Tomorrow, I would walk in as Camille Martins,a professional,efficient secretary. If Leonardo Moretti thought otherwise, then I’d just have to prove him wrong over and over till I get what I came there for.