19. Sofia
19
SOFIA
I stand in front of the mirror, carefully applying my makeup and smoothing down my hair. I want to look presentable for my family, want to give the impression that everything is fine, that my new life as a married woman is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
But as I stare at my reflection, I can’t help but feel a sense of unease, a nagging doubt that tugs at the edges of my mind. Is this really what I want? Is this the life I’ve always imagined for myself?
I look down at the large diamond engagement ring on my finger, the stone twinkling in the morning light. It’s a beautiful piece, a symbol of the wealth and power of the Sicura Family. But it feels heavy on my hand, like a weight that I can’t quite bear.
I twist the ring nervously, my fingers brushing against the cool metal of my wedding band. Should I take them off? Would it be a sign of disrespect, a slap in the face to my new husband and his family?
I hesitate for a moment, my heart racing as I consider my options. But then I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. Who am I kidding? My parents would be furious if I showed up days after my wedding without my rings on. They’d see it as a sign of weakness, a lack of commitment to my new role as a Sicura wife, a slap in the face to my father’s wishes.
So I leave the rings where they are, a glittering reminder of the life I’ve been forced to choose, the path others have set me on. I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as I head downstairs.
As I step outside, I call the Sicura driver, instructing him to ready the car for my journey home. But as the word “home” leaves my lips, I feel a pang of uncertainty, a sense of displacement that I can’t quite shake.
Is it really home for me now, now that I’m married, now that I’ve left behind the life I’ve always known? Or is it just a place I used to belong?
No, that’s ridiculous. My father’s house will always be my home.
As I make my way down the paved driveway, the morning breeze caresses my skin, providing a welcome respite from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. The rhythmic clacking of my heels against the concrete is almost soothing, a steady beat that helps to calm my racing thoughts.
But as I approach the six-car garage where the driver is waiting, I catch sight of a man who seems entirely out of place. He’s tall and dark, with a brooding intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. Despite myself, I can’t help but admire his rugged good looks, the way his chiseled features seem to be carved from marble.
Guilt washes over me almost instantly, a bitter reminder that I’m a married woman now. I shouldn’t be noticing other men, shouldn’t be letting my heart race at the sight of a handsome stranger.
Easy, Sofia.
But there’s something about this man that draws me in, that makes me want to know more. He seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the Sicura house with an intensity that borders on obsession.
Before I can stop myself, I find myself walking toward him, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Excuse me,” I call out, my voice sounding oddly breathless to my own ears. “Who are you? Are you alright? Do you need anything?”
The man turns to face me, his dark eyes boring into mine with a depth of emotion that takes my breath away. “My name is Luca,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Luca Strambo. And the only thing I need is revenge. Are you in the business?”
I let out a laugh. “No, I’m not. But it seems like Dom has a line of people who hate his guts.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, a bitter truth that I’ve been trying so hard to ignore. But there’s something about Luca that makes me want to confide in him, that makes me feel like he might understand the tumultuous emotions that are tearing me apart inside.
Luca’s gaze sharpens with a newfound interest as he assesses me, his dark eyes glinting with a blend of curiosity and calculation. “So, who else is in line?” he asks. “Who else has a bone to pick with the infamous Dominico Sicura?”
I let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating even to my own ears. “Well, I am, obviously,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m the poor soul who became his wife, after all.”
The words are meant to be a joke, a flippant remark to mask the pain that’s tearing me apart inside. But even as I say them, I feel a wave of bitter anguish wash over me, a reminder of all the ways Dom has hurt me, all the times he’s made me feel like just another notch on his bedpost.
I really thought I was special, that I was the only one for him, the girl who would finally tame the wild Sicura heir and make him settle down. But I was just fooling myself. I’m just another name on a long list of girls he’s used and tossed aside, another heart for him to break and discard like yesterday’s trash.
Luca’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise and something else—something that looks almost like admiration—crossing his face. “Well, well,” he murmurs, his voice low and intense. “It seems there’s more to you than meets the eye, Mrs. Sicura.”
I know I should walk away, should put an end to this conversation before it goes too far. But there’s something about Luca that draws me in, that makes me want to throw caution to the wind.
And so I find myself smiling back, my heart pounding with anticipation. “Please,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Call me Sofia.”
“Sofia,” he murmurs, making it sound like a caress.
I feel a flush of heat rise to my cheeks, a mix of pleasure and unease at the way he says my name, like it’s a secret he’s been entrusted with. “I’m just a woman who’s been wronged,” I say, trying to keep my voice light and casual. “Like so many others, I’m sure.”
But Luca shakes his head, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. “Oh, I don’t think you’re like anyone else, Sofia,” he says. “In fact, I think you might just be the most interesting person I’ve met in a long, long time.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to ignore the way his words make me feel, the way they send a shiver of excitement racing down my spine. “That’s very kind of you to say,” I manage, my voice sounding oddly breathless to my own ears. “But I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
Luca leans in closer, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that steals the breath from my lungs. “What I’m getting at,” he murmurs, his voice low and conspiratorial, “is that if you ever need help exacting your revenge on dear Dominico, I’d be more than happy to lend a hand.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my mind racing as I try to process his words. Is he serious? Is he really offering to help me get back at my own husband, to make him pay for all the ways he’s hurt and betrayed me?
A part of me is tempted, so tempted to take him up on his offer, to let myself be swept away by the dark, dangerous thrill of revenge, to finally take control of my own destiny and make Dom suffer the way he’s made me suffer.
But I know I can’t. I know that as much as I may want to hurt Dom, as much as I may want to see him brought low… I can’t stoop to his level. I can’t become the kind of person who takes pleasure in other people’s pain, who revels in the destruction of the ones they once loved.
And so I force myself to smile, to shake my head and let out a soft, tinkling laugh. “Thank you for the offer, Luca,” I say, my voice warm and sincere, “but I think I'll have to pass. Revenge may be sweet, but it’s not really my style.”
My sisters would completely disagree with that statement. After all, I am a Marino. Revenge is in my blood.
But Luca doesn’t need to know that.
Luca nods slowly, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he masks it with a rueful smile. “Fair enough,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. “But if you ever change your mind… you know where to find me.”
I nod, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of my lips even though I don’t know where to find him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, my voice soft and sincere. “And thank you, Luca. For the support, and for the reminder that I’m not alone in this.”
He inclines his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Anytime, Sofia,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “Anytime at all.”
And with that, I turn and walk away, my head held high and my heart racing in my chest.
As I settle into the back of the car, my mind can’t help but drift back to the strange interaction with Luca. The way he was watching the house so intently, the intensity of his gaze and the weight of his words… it all feels surreal, like something out of a movie or a dream.
I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts from my mind. I have enough to worry about without adding mysterious strangers and cryptic offers of revenge to the mix. Right now, I need to focus on my family, on the people who have always been there for me no matter what.
I pull out my phone, opening up the group chat with my sisters. My fingers fly over the screen as I type out a message, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
“Hey ladies, I'm coming home for a visit. I’ll see you in a few!”
I hit Send , leaning back against the plush leather seat as I wait for their responses. I can already picture their reactions—Mia’s excited squeals, Chiara’s warm smile, Bianca’s playful teasing.
But to my surprise, only one notification pops up on my screen. It’s from Bianca, and the message is short and clipped.
“Ok . ”
I stare at the screen, my brow furrowing in confusion. That’s it? Just “ok”? No excited emojis, no questions about when I’ll be arriving or how long I’ll be staying?
It’s not like Bianca to be so terse, especially not with me. She’s usually the one who's always up for a good gossip session, always eager to hear about my life and share her own stories in return.
And then there’s the fact that she's the only one who responded at all. Mia is practically glued to her phone, always sending rapid-fire texts and memes and TikTok videos. For her to be silent, especially when I’m coming home for a visit… it’s more than a little strange.
I try to push down the unease that's building in my gut, telling myself that there’s probably a perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe Bianca is just grumpy that I woke her up early. Maybe Mia and Chiara are still sleeping, their phones on silent mode as they catch up on some much-needed rest.
Yes, that must be it. I’m probably just overthinking things, letting my own anxieties and fears color my perception. My sisters love me, and they’ll be thrilled to see me no matter what.
I take a deep breath, letting the car’s leather upholstery scent wash over me. It’s a small comfort, a reminder of the life I’ve always known, the world I’ve grown up in.
But even as I try to relax, try to let myself be soothed by the gentle motion of the car and the soft strains of music playing over the speakers… I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That there's more going on than meets the eye.
I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat as I try to quiet my racing thoughts. I need to focus on the present, on the moment at hand.
* * *
As I step through the front door of my childhood home, a sense of unease washes over me. The house is too quiet, the air heavy with a stillness that feels almost oppressive. It’s a far cry from the warmth and chaos I’m used to, the constant buzz of activity and laughter that always filled these halls.
The butler greets me at the door, his face drawn and his eyes shadowed with worry. “Welcome home, Miss Sofia,” he says, his voice low and somber. “It’s good to see you.”
I try to smile, but it feels forced, almost painful. “It's good to be back, Marco,” I say, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. “Where is everyone? Where's my father?”
Marco hesitates, his gaze darting away from mine. “He’s in his room, Miss Sofia,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your mother is with him.”
A cold knot of dread settles in the pit of my stomach, a sickening sense of fear that I can’t quite shake. I nod, mumbling a quick thank you to Marco before I’m racing up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest as I make my way toward my parents’ bedroom.
I burst through the door, my breath catching in my throat as I take in the scene before me. My father is lying in bed, his face pale and drawn, his body looking frail beneath the sheets. My mother is sitting by his side, her hand clasped tightly in his, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying.
“Papa,” I whisper, my voice cracking on the word. “What… what happened?”
My mother looks up at me, her face a mask of grief and exhaustion. “Oh, Sofia,” she says, her voice trembling with emotion. “I'm so glad you're here.”
I move to my father’s bedside, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress as I take his hand in mine. It feels so thin, so fragile, like it might break at the slightest touch.
“His health has taken a turn for the worse,” my mother says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I feel like I've been punched in the gut, the air rushing out of my lungs in a painful whoosh. This can’t be happening. Not now, not when I need my father more than ever.
“But… but he was fine at the wedding,” I say, my voice shaking with disbelief. “He was walking and talking and… and he seemed so strong.”
My mother shakes her head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “He was putting on a brave face for you, Sofia,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “He didn't want you to worry, didn't want to spoil your special day.”
I feel a wave of guilt wash over me, a sickening sense of regret that I didn't see it sooner. I was too caught up in my own drama, my own petty problems, to notice that my father was slipping away right before my eyes.
“Papa,” I whisper, leaning in close to his face. “Papa, I'm here. I'm right here.”
His eyelids flutter, his gaze focusing on me with a clarity that takes my breath away. “Sofia,” he rasps, his voice weak and thready. “My beautiful girl.”
I feel tears welling up in my eyes, a lump forming in my throat that I can't quite swallow past. “I'm sorry, Papa,” I say, my voice cracking with emotion. “I'm sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t… I didn’t know.”
He shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t be sorry, Sofia,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were where you needed to be. With your husband, building your future.”
I feel a stab of pain in my chest, a bitter reminder of all the ways my marriage has fallen short of my dreams. But I push it down, forcing a smile onto my face as I nod.
“Yes, Papa,” I say, my voice soft and soothing. “I'm building my future, just like you always wanted.”
He nods, his eyes drifting closed as he sinks back against the pillows. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice fading away. “That's good.”
I sit there for a long moment, holding his hand and watching the rise and fall of his chest. I feel like I'm in a dream, like none of this can possibly be real.
But it is real. It's happening, right here and now, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.