Chapter 41
SOFIA
no te deseo lo peor :) – MARLENA, Paula Mattheus
“Be careful,” Ilias’ voice came through the phone, laced with concern. “You don’t know them. And we still don’t know what they really want.”
“I looked them up,” Sofia admitted as she walked through Ericeira’s narrow streets, now brimming with tourists. June wasn’t exactly high season, but the town had become a hotspot for surfers, and she didn’t mind. More people, more tours, more income.
TerraVive’s sponsorship had given her the chance to upgrade her gear, hire Penelope, a smart, funny Portuguese girl who had just gotten her PADI and was studying marine biology, and pay Jo?o a modest stipend (though he kept refusing it).
But she needed Salacia and its tours to stand on their own.
And Ericeira had been the right choice to do so.
“And? What did you find?” Ilias asked. From the background noise—waves crashing, voices chatting—he was likely calling from the Athlete Zone.
“They’re legit. A fast-growing startup. Basically, their job is sniffing out whether eco-institutes are bullshitting or not.” Her pace slowed as she turned a corner and saw the trio waiting for her near the restaurant. “I have to go. Just got here.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Are you wearing that sundress?”
“Nope,” Sofia grinned. “A new one I bought. I’ll send you a picture later.”
“You’re playing with me, habiba.”
“Focus on the competition, Ilias.”
“I will. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
She hung up before her mouth betrayed her heart. The second she did, she sent him the photo of the chocolate brown sundress she had bought on a second-hand online shop a couple of days ago. Then she slipped the phone into her purse and walked toward the waiting trio.
“Hello, Sofia!” Asma chirped.
“Hi. Let’s head inside, I booked a table.”
The message was clear: We’re doing this on my terms.
Gianpaolo greeted her with his usual blazing smile. A Tuscan transplant who had moved here thirty years ago to surf, long before Ericeira was trendy, he was now a local legend.
“Sofia, che piacere rivederti! Rosa mi ha detto della prenotazione. Come stai? E Ilias?”
He launched into a flurry of questions about her life. She hugged him tightly. He was around her father’s age, perpetually youthful in spirit and permanently dressed like he’d just stepped off a longboard. He had definitely followed her on socials because, gosh, he knew all the gossip.
“Everything’s great,” Sofia smiled, answering in Italian. “Could you put us in a secluded corner? We need to talk business.”
Gianpaolo eyed the trio behind her, and nodded.
“Come with me,” he said, switching effortlessly to English, probably knowing that they weren’t from around there just from their looks. The trio followed her without question.
He led them to an interior patio, a hidden gem with a grapevine canopy, a tiled fountain, and the classic Portuguese calcada beneath their feet. They took seats at a round table tucked into a private corner. Asma sat on Sofia’s left, Leif on her right, and Callum across from her.
“You’re part Italian, right?” Asma asked, breaking the ice.
“Yes. My dad’s from Genova. Do you know where that is?”
“Close to Cinque Terre?” Callum asked, his accent thick but manageable, for now.
“Sort of.”
“It’s beautiful there. How’d you end up opening a business in Ericeira?” Leif asked. His Nordic lilt, Swedish? Norwegian? She wasn’t sure, curled subtly around each word.
“It’s ideal. Whale migrations, dolphin sightings, excellent dive spots, and a lot of people and tourists in our target audience. Elvira, my co-founder, already lived here, and I fell in love with the place. It kind of reminds me of Conil, my Mom’s hometown in Spain. Loosely, anyway.”
She didn’t bother opening the menu. She always ordered the same thing: margherita with fries on top, an Italian millennial guilty pleasure.
“Definitely better than London,” Asma joked.
Sofia smiled politely. Then her gaze sharpened. Time to get to the point.
“So,” she said, folding her hands together. “Want to explain what exactly you want to know from me about Neptune?”
Leif’s eyes narrowed with quiet intent. “As we mentioned, the European Commission has flagged recent grants to Neptune. They’re… not sure the funds were used appropriately.”
“And,” Asma added, “you were almost president, until Doctor Thomas Whitmore was appointed instead. So, we figured you might have insight.”
“And maybe a reason for leaving so suddenly,” Callum added, his blue eyes assessing her like she was an asset under review.
Sofia met his gaze head-on. “I had nothing to do with Neptune’s finances. Thomas managed all of that. His family is one of the largest investors. Apparently, I got the job through nepotism.”
She let the silence stretch.
“That was part of why I left,” she added, voice level but sharp.
The three exchanged glances.
“What were the other reasons?” Asma asked.
Sofia didn’t blink. Maybe in another situation, maybe before Ilias and Sydney, that topic would have still hurt her, but now, she felt strong enough to talk about it with no shame or regret.
“Thomas manipulated the board to win the chair position. We were together for eight years. He lied to me. And I realized I wanted nothing to do with the Whitmore clan or their dirty money.”
“I see,” Asma murmured, thoughtful.
Gianpaolo took their drink and pizza orders, then disappeared again.
“So, you have no insight on the EU funding?” Leif asked.
“None,” Sofia said bluntly. “And just so you know how out of the loop I was, I signed a contract that gave Neptune full rights to all my research. Even though my name’s still on it, I have zero intellectual property. It was a stupid move. I know.”
“Should’ve had a lawyer,” Asma said lightly.
“Yeah, no shit.” Sofia scoffed. “My sister’s a lawyer now, just started at a firm in Milan, but at the time? I had no idea what I was doing.”
“I’m sorry,” Leif said gently. “That kind of theft hurts.”
“That’s exactly why Lamina exists,” Callum added, his accent still testing the limits of her comprehension. “To call out that kind of exploitation. Greenwashing, funding abuse, falsified data, we expose it.”
“Do you think Neptune is corrupt?” Sofia asked.
“Do you think so?” Asma countered, her eyes gleaming with practiced poise.
Sofia tilted her head. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“We’re starting a formal investigation next month,” Callum said. “Full audit. Is there anything we should be aware of? Anything you did that might fall in a gray area?”
Sofia arched an eyebrow. “Besides trusting a rich boy? No. I could never steal anything. And once I found out how I was hired, I couldn’t stay.”
“How’s your relationship with Thomas now?” Leif asked.
“Hostile. I ignore him. He tries to undermine me, my business and my relationship every chance he gets. If you want me to speak with him again? Forget it. I’d rather eat horse shit.”
Asma chuckled. Callum nodded slowly.
“Would you say he’s a good person?” Leif asked.
That one landed heavier. Was he? Her mind flashed to the rude way he treated staff, the condescension, the entitlement, the lies.
He was never the scientist, she had always done the work, but somehow she couldn’t erase the fact that they had been together for eight years, and somehow, somewhere in the past, she had loved him.
“He’s a rich kid raised in a toxic world. You can’t expect much.”
“I’m a rich kid,” Leif said quietly. “But I grew out of it.”
Sofia gave him a slow smile. “Then you’re already better than him.”
Just then, Gianpaolo reappeared, balancing pizzas in both hands.
With pizzas in front of them, Sofia added, “Whatever you have to do, do it. But you must be aware that the Whitmores have lots of money and lots of connections. I don’t know if an audit from a startup could change anything.”
“Well,” Asma said, smiling faintly, “we built Lamina because change doesn’t happen until someone’s willing to piss off the powerful. Guess it’s our turn.”
“Isn't that why you have founded Salacia?” Callum asked, his blue eyes set on her. “To show that you can be more than Neptune?”
Sofia took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yes. I just never believed I could actually make a difference.”
Leif shrugged. “I feel you’ve done a very good job, Sofia, in showing people the ocean from a close perspective. Imagine if those European Funds could land in Salacia’s lap instead of an old institution like Neptune.”
Sofia nodded, thoughtful. Who’s going to tell them that fake dating a pro surfer had pushed her career further? Was she better than Thomas, at that point?