The morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Remington estate, casting soft golden streaks on the polished hardwood floors. Sophia sat at the breakfast table, sipping her coffee, but her mind was far from the tranquility of the moment. Across from her, Andrew read the financial section of the paper, his brow furrowed in concentration. His presence was comforting, grounding even, but Sophia's thoughts were miles away—back in Sicily, where the shadows of her family lingered like a storm cloud she could never escape.
Her phone buzzed on the table, the vibration jolting her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and felt her stomach twist. The message was from Matteo.
"You're falling behind. Call me."
Sophia's breath caught. Matteo rarely communicated directly; he preferred to operate through intermediaries, keeping his hands clean. The fact that he had messaged her personally meant only one thing—he was losing patience.
"Everything okay?" Andrew's voice broke through her thoughts.
Sophia forced a smile, slipping the phone into her pocket. "Yes, just a reminder about an appointment."
Andrew nodded, his attention returning to the paper. But Sophia's mind was already racing. She knew she couldn't avoid Matteo's demands forever.
Later that afternoon, Sophia found herself alone in the estate's library. The room was quiet, the scent of aged leather and paper filling the air. With trembling fingers, she dialed the number Matteo had sent her. The call connected almost instantly.
"Papa," she said softly, her voice betraying her anxiety.
"Sophia," Matteo replied, his tone deceptively calm. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."
"I haven't forgotten," she said quickly. "I've been careful, like you asked."
"Careful isn't enough," Matteo snapped, his voice hardening. "You've been in their home, in their circle, for months now. And what do I have to show for it?"
Sophia swallowed hard. "It's not that simple. The Remingtons are… different. They're cautious. It takes time to gain their trust."
"Time is a luxury we don't have," Matteo growled. "Do you think Andrew would hesitate if the roles were reversed? Do you think Evelyn Remington isn't already digging into your past, trying to uncover our secrets?"
Sophia's chest tightened. She knew Evelyn was suspicious of her; the woman's probing questions and sharp gaze had made that abundantly clear. But Matteo's words carried an edge of truth that she couldn't deny.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I want results," Matteo said coldly. "Evelyn is the key. She controls that family, even if Andrew thinks he's the one in charge. Find out what she knows. Get access to their accounts, their contacts, anything we can use to tighten our grip on them."
"Papa, I can't—" Sophia began, but Matteo cut her off.
"You can, and you will," he said sharply. "Or do I need to remind you what's at stake?"
Sophia's hands tightened around the phone. "No. I understand."
"Good," Matteo said, his tone softening slightly. "Remember, cara mia, this isn't just about me. It's about the family. Everything I do is for us."
The call ended abruptly, leaving Sophia staring at the phone in her hand. The weight of Matteo's expectations pressed heavily on her chest, suffocating her. She had always known that her engagement to Andrew was part of Matteo's grand plan, but hearing it spelled out so clearly only deepened her sense of entrapment.
That evening, Sophia retreated to the privacy of her room. She locked the door and sat at her desk, pulling out a small notebook where she kept her most private thoughts. She flipped to a blank page, her pen hovering over the paper as tears blurred her vision.
"How much longer can I do this?" she wrote. "How much more can I sacrifice before I lose myself completely?"
Her phone buzzed again, drawing her attention. This time, it was a photo—a grainy image of her mother's grave in Sicily. Beneath it, Matteo had written: "Family first. Always."
Sophia's breath hitched, her tears spilling over. Matteo rarely made direct threats, but his meaning was clear. If she failed to comply, he would find a way to remind her of what she stood to lose—just as he had always done.
She clenched her fists, anger and despair warring within her. She had tried to build a life with Andrew, to believe that love could be her escape. But Matteo's grip was unrelenting, his power stretching across oceans to remind her that she would never truly be free.
The next morning, Sophia threw herself into wedding preparations, using the flurry of activity as a distraction from her inner turmoil. She smiled and laughed with the planner, nodded along to Evelyn's suggestions, and played the role of the perfect fiancée. But beneath the surface, she was unraveling.
Andrew noticed the change. He watched her closely during their meetings, his concern growing with every passing day. That evening, as they sat together on the terrace, he finally addressed it.
"Sophia," he said gently, reaching for her hand. "Talk to me. What's going on?"
She hesitated, her heart pounding. "What do you mean?"
"You've been distant," Andrew said, his tone filled with genuine concern. "You're here, but it feels like your mind is somewhere else. Is it the wedding? My family? Something I've done?"
"No," Sophia said quickly, shaking her head. "It's not you, Andrew. It's… everything. The pressure, the expectations. I just want to be perfect for you."
"You don't have to be perfect," he said softly. "I just need you to be honest with me."
Her throat tightened, and for a fleeting moment, she considered telling him the truth. But Matteo's threats loomed large in her mind, and the risk was too great.
"I'm fine," she said finally, forcing a smile. "I promise."
Andrew didn't look convinced, but he let it go for now, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm here if you need me. Always."
Sophia nodded, leaning into his embrace. But as she rested her head against his chest, her mind raced. Matteo's message was clear: she had no choice but to comply. And the longer she stayed in this game, the more dangerous it became—not just for her, but for everyone she cared about.