Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
SOFIA
I sat on the floor, my back still against the door, for what felt like hours. The tears had dried on my face, leaving tight, salty tracks down my cheeks. Marco was dead. My cousin. My stand-in brother. My protector. The one who'd given me the ability to walk away.
Now he was gone.
I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. The house was quiet, empty. I'd always liked the solitude before—had cherished it after growing up in a household where privacy was nonexistent and silence meant danger. Now that silence pressed in on me, heavy with the weight of all that shadowed my past and my name.
My phone buzzed in my purse, and I flinched.
Ernesto. It had to be.
With trembling hands, I dug through my bag, but the name on the screen made my chest tighten. Meredith. Not my uncle.
I watched the call, unable to accept it. Not right now, not while I was still dealing with the weight of all this.
It finally ended, and a text came through a moment after.
Home safe?
A small smile touched my lips as a coldness seeped into my bones. Meredith really was my adopted family, someone who'd accepted me for who I was from the moment we'd met. Who'd become like a sister to me.
I waited a few moments before texting back.
Sorry, was in the shower. Home safe! Have fun, don't get too sore ;)
Faking happiness and cheeriness was too easy for me sometimes.
All good, and I'll do my best. Love you x
I sucked in a shaky breath as I tapped in a response.
Love you too x
I scrolled through my contacts until I found Ernesto's number. I'd kept it, though I hadn't used it in years. Just in case. Always just in case.
In case something like this happened?
My thumb hovered over his name. I should call him back. Find out what happened to Marco. Learn what he meant about me coming back. But I couldn't bring myself to press the button. Instead, I scrolled down to Marco's name.
There were no past messages, this number had been a new one I'd gotten after I'd left, but I'd added in the numbers of family for times like this. Their direct cells just for family conversations. Burner phones were for business.
In case I ever wanted to reach out or something happened.
I closed my eyes as tears burned once more.
I should've reached out to him. Thanked him more for setting me free. Told him how much he'd meant to me over the years.
"Pull it together, Sof. People die, it's part of the business." I choked out a miserable laugh, not believing my own words for a second as I hung my head.
This family was a mess of blood and power. It always had been. Very few who bore my last name lived long lives.
But it didn't make it any easier.
I pushed myself off the floor and headed for the kitchen. If Ernesto wanted to talk, he'd call again. And in the meantime, I needed to keep myself busy or I'd go insane.
I started with the dishes in the sink—just a coffee mug and a plate from breakfast the other day. I told the smart home system to blast some music in order to drown out the chaos in my mind. Then I moved on to wiping down counters that were already clean, reorganizing cabinets that didn't need it, and finally scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees until my back ached and my fingers were pruned.
Anything to avoid the swirling thoughts and questions in my brain.
When the kitchen gleamed, I moved to the living room. Dusted shelves. Vacuumed corners. Rearranged pillows. The mindless tasks kept my hands occupied, if not my thoughts.
Marco's face kept flashing through my mind. Not as I'd last seen him—serious, with hard eyes that had seen too much, ready to step in—but as he'd been when we were kids. Laughing as he pushed me on a swing. Teaching me to ride a bike in the long driveway of my father's estate. Sitting beside me at the weekend family dinners, kicking me under the table when I looked bored during Uncle Ernesto's long-winded stories.
Taking me away from the house when both my uncle and father were there, pissed over some business failing or rival family causing issues. Ever since he’d learned that they’d take some of their anger out on me, he’d started removing me whenever he could.
Always protecting me.
By the time I finished cleaning the entire first floor, the sun was setting. I hadn't eaten since breakfast with Gray, but the thought of food made my stomach turn. Instead, I poured myself a glass of wine and curled up on the couch, turning on the TV for background noise.
I flipped through channels until I landed on a comedy show—something mindless and light. I needed the distraction, needed to hear laughter, even if it was canned.
I wasn't really watching, just letting the colors and sounds wash over me as I sipped my wine. But then a scene caught my attention—two siblings arguing over a family business, the older one insisting the younger one take responsibility.
"You can't just walk away from this," the actor said, his face serious despite the laugh track. "It's in your blood."
I hit the power button so hard my finger hurt. The screen went black, leaving me in the dim light of my living room.
Marco had said something similar to me once, years ago, when I told him I was leaving after naming him my replacement.
"You think you can just walk away?" he'd asked, not angry, just curious. "It's in your blood, Sofia. The family. The business. All of it."
"I don't want it," I'd told him. "I never have. It’s why I named you.”
He'd studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "I know. That's why I'm letting you go."
"Letting me?"
"Don't play naive," he'd said, but gently. "You know what happens to people who try to leave without permission."
I did know. I'd seen it firsthand.
"Family is forever, Sofia. You can't just walk away, not fully. But I know this is what you want. And I understand. You need to do this. So I'll do this."
"Why are you giving me permission?" I'd asked. "Why are you okay with it?"
He'd smiled then, a rare, genuine smile. "Because you deserve better than this life. Because you're smart enough to make something of yourself. Because..." He'd paused, looking away. "Because someone in this family should get out clean. I want the same for Bianca too. But my father will never allow it, so I’ll do my best to make it safer for her, better.”
I hadn't understood then what he meant. Now I did. Marco had been trapped his whole life, groomed from childhood to take over from his father if he wound up in power. He'd never had a choice. But he'd given me one.
I had no brothers myself, my mother never falling pregnant again. It’d caused many fights, many nights where my father had explosive rages at her, even hitting her before he’d come for me and blame me. Say I’d somehow been the reason she could no longer fall pregnant.
So Marco had been the only sibling-like person I’d had.
And now he was dead.
I drained my wine glass and set it on the coffee table with a thunk. Without Marco's protection, without his influence keeping the family at arm's length, what would happen to me? Ernesto wanted to pull me back in. But what would he want from me? Surely he was going to take Marco's place now, like he had wanted from the beginning, but the family hadn't allowed it, not after his fuck up.
Why contact me at all? Why hadn't he chosen to just keep me in the dark completely? I was out, with no intention to come back or cause any issues.
Was it just to inform me of Marco's death as a courtesy? Was he worried I posed a threat now and wanted to drag me back?
My stomach churned at the thought. What threat could I be? And if I was, why reach out? Why not have me killed off with no warning. Wouldn't I be more of a threat if he pulled me back in?
No, there was something more going on.
Either that, or my uncle had softened over the years I'd been gone, and then with his son's death, had chosen to inform me since we'd been close.
A part of me would've liked to have believed that. But it was unlikely. Ernesto had been a hard, cruel man, and not even such a loss would have changed that. The last I'd heard, the death of my father had only infuriated him, especially since he'd not been granted the position as head of the family, his own son taking the place instead.
Was it possible Marco's death wasn't an accident?
I closed my eyes, knowing these were questions I couldn’t get the answers to right now. Besides, taking the life of your own blood, your only son, was not something I'd even think Ernesto was capable of.
I curled deeper into the couch cushions, pulling a throw blanket over myself. Tomorrow. I'd deal with it all tomorrow. Maybe by some miracle, Ernesto wouldn't call again. Maybe he'd be too consumed by his son's death to worry about his wayward niece and whatever he thought he'd needed me for. Maybe I'd fall back into the background, a Savoca who had lost all meaning to the family.
It was a stupid hope, but I clung to it anyway as I drifted into an uneasy sleep.
* * *
For the next two weeks, I went through the motions of my life. I worked my shifts at the hospital, came home, ate whatever I could stomach, and fell into bed. I checked my phone obsessively, both dreading and expecting Ernesto's call, but it never came. Whether or not that was a good thing, I had no idea.
But there was also no news on his funeral. Would I even be invited if there was?
Be ready.
What had he meant by that?
Maybe Ernesto had forgotten about me after all. Maybe his words that I needed to come back, that they needed me, was just his grief, and now he'd accepted he didn't want me there. Maybe I was free.
I wasn't sure how to feel about it, but I also wasn't willing to reach out and get dragged back in.
I'd replied to a handful of messages from Grayson over the days after the wedding, trying to keep our messages short and to the point. Whatever we'd shared, it was over, and we needed to move past that.
Even if my last message to him had been harsh about leaving the past behind us.
It was on the fourteenth day after the wedding, the day after shutting Grayson down completely, while I was changing out of my scrubs after a particularly hectic shift that my phone rang. My heart lurched, but the caller ID showed Meredith's name, not Ernesto's.
"Hey," I answered, trying to sound normal. "How was the honeymoon?"
"Absolutely perfect," Meredith gushed. "The island was gorgeous, the weather was amazing, and Leo was... well, Leo was Leo."
I could hear the smile in her voice, the newlywed bliss. For a moment, I envied her simple happiness.
"That's great, Mer. I'm so happy for you guys."
"We just got back this morning," she said. "I'm exhausted, but in the best way. I had to call you, though. I've missed you! How have you been?"
How had I been? My cousin was dead. My uncle had told me I needed to come back to them and then gone radio silent. I'd been avoiding talking to Grayson properly after our fun at her wedding, then shut him down fully yesterday.
I felt like a mess, like I was barely holding it all together right now. Like my carefully constructed life felt like it was beginning to crumble around me and I was desperately trying to wrap a band-aid around it and look the other way.
"I've been okay," I lied, unwilling to dampen her joy after her honeymoon. "Just working a lot."
I wanted to tell her about Marco. Wanted to unload all of it—the call from Ernesto, the unease I'd been living with for two weeks, how I was avoiding it in hopes it would fade away.
But if I said it out loud, if I acknowledged it, it would become real in a way I wasn't ready to face. Every time I thought of Marco or had memories, I'd shoved them aside, refusing to deal with it.
And stupidly, I worried that talking about it might somehow summon Ernesto, like saying Bloody Mary three times in front of a mirror.
"You work too hard," Meredith said. "You need to take some time for yourself."
"I take plenty of time off when needed."
"Yeah, true." She paused for a moment. "Are you sure you're okay? you sounded a little off. Something going on?"
Of course she could sense it. We were best friends after all.
"Yeah, just tired, the hours have been long, and we've had some tough cases. How does it feel to be a married woman?" I shifted the conversation.
"Honestly? Not that different. Except I keep catching myself staring at my ring. Then it hits that I'm actually married."
I glanced down at my own hands, at my grandmother's rings that I always wore. I twisted one around my finger, a nervous habit I'd developed over the years.
"Oh, by the way," Meredith continued, "we absolutely grilled Grayson about that mystery woman he met at the wedding while he was with us."
My heart jumped into my throat as I stilled. "Really? And?"
"He was super evasive, but Leo finally got it out of him that he spent the night with someone incredible. Wouldn't tell us who, though. Just said she was beautiful and a lot of fun. We joked about if we'd be seeing more of her."
I swallowed hard. "Really? What'd he say about that?" I did my best to keep my tone casual and light despite the thrum of my heart.
"No luck, he said it's unlikely to become anything, she's got other ideas in life that he won't fit into. Leo asked if he'd invited her to the Bahamas, and he said he tried but she turned him down. Poor Gray. I kinda think he liked this one."
My stomach twisted with a mixture of guilt and something else. Something I shouldn't have felt.
Had he really wanted more? Or had he just said that for them?
Either way, it was not something I could wonder about. Not now.
"Anyway," Meredith continued, oblivious to my internal crisis, "I need to see you. After I have a recovery day, of course. I'm still on island time. But then we're going to start working on restoring the theater, and I could really use your help. You have such a good eye for design."
The theater. Leo had bought the old Victorian-styled theater for Meredith, knowing how much she loved the historic building. It had been closed for years, falling into disrepair, but Meredith had always talked about how beautiful it had been.
"That sounds fun," I said, grateful for the distraction. "It's a date."
"Perfect! How about day after tomorrow? I'll bring pastries if you get the Starbucks."
"You know the way to my heart."
We set a time to meet, and then Meredith had to go—something about unpacking and laundry and married life. As soon as we hung up, my thoughts turned to Grayson.
He'd texted me a few times since that night. Nothing pushy, just casual messages that somehow managed to convey his interest without explicitly stating it. And now I was thinking over them once more.
Just landed in the Bahamas. The view's beautiful. You would've liked it.
Haven't seen Meredith or Leo all day. Wonder if my niece or nephew will be conceived here? (laugh emoji)
Nice weather today. Where's your dream holiday destination?
I'd responded to each one, but kept my replies as neutral as I could.
Enjoy the sun!
It's definitely possible. Try to have fun too.
Somewhere with the ocean. Nothing beats the ocean breeze.
Yesterday, though, he'd been more direct, and things had had to change.
I know we said no strings, but I can't stop thinking about you, Sofia. Would it be so bad if we talked more? Got to know each other better? Outside of your friendship with Meredith?
I'd stared at that message for too long, closing it and leaving it before finally replying after work, once I had accepted what I needed to say versus how I felt.
We need to step back and let what happened fade away. We had fun, but that was the end of it.
His response had come quickly.
What about a continuing friends with benefits situation? No strings, just... benefits when we both want them?
The offer had been tempting—more tempting than it should have been. Had I even had a wild dream about another night with him? Maybe, but it was something I couldn't pursue.
If I was dreaming about him, then that meant I felt things that were out of place in my life right now. Too much risk. Not to mention with everything that had happened with Marco and Ernesto, the last thing I needed was to complicate my life further with Grayson Cassaro.
I don't think that would work for us. I'm sorry. Plus, I lost another patient this week. This one hit hard. I'm not in a good place right now.
It wasn't entirely a lie, just a reminder of the pain I was still enduring. I had lost someone—Marco, and it was not something I was going to easily move past. And I definitely wasn't in a good place.
Grayson had been understanding.
I get it. I'll back off. But if you ever need to talk about your patient, or anything else, I'm here. No benefits required.
I hadn't responded to that one. What could I say? That no patients had died, just my cousin who had been like a brother to me? That had set me free by taking my place and giving me permission to leave? That I had no idea if my uncle had plans for me or if his one call was something I needed to dismiss? That I was waiting for a call to figure out what the hell was going on, but I was too scared to make the call myself for fear of what my family wanted from me?
No. Better to let it go. Better to keep Grayson at a safe distance, away from the darkness that was creeping back into my life. He may be involved in this world, but not in the way I had been.
The blood on his hands was different than the one on mine.
The Savocas were not like the Donati. They didn't have such high moral codes.
I finished changing into my comfy clothes, trying to focus on the present. On the mundane details of my day. On anything but the storm I could swear I could feel gathering on the horizon.
For now, Ernesto hadn't called again. For now, I could pretend my life was still my own, that I was free from my family and all that entailed. For now, I could breathe.
But deep down, I knew it wouldn't last. The Savoca family never forgot their own. And sooner or later, they would come for me in some way, ask things of me.
Especially now with Marco gone.